Cross

18 | Who is Alan Smith?

"The art of conversation is the art of hearing as well as of being heard."- William Hazlitt

               Chapter Eighteen

"TO: Agent Lam (Susana); Hey, can you cover for me today with Agent Hook? I can't come in."

Within a few seconds, she responded. "From: Agent Lam (Susana); Of course, but what happened? Is it an emergency?"

I bit my lip, deciding how much of the truth I should part with it. "Sort of. I got another letter from Blaze. I need to investigate it."

"Is it another clue?" She asked.

"Idk yet. I'll let you know soon. And, I'll catch up with the case progress with you and Rosie tomorrow? Is that okay?"

"That's fine. We are just going over the list of relatives we're calling in. Rosie wants to go over the details with you though. I'll tell her to come to your house tomorrow?"

I replied back, "Sounds good. Talk to you later."

I placed my phone into my bag and stood up on the front porch of my house. Eli was due here any minute. Glancing at the roads, I tapped my feet on the ground to fight with the chilly wind. To my relief, I did not have to wait long. A few minutes later, he strolled onto my street and stopped his car in front of my house, honking once.

"You look toasty," he said, as I entered the car.

"It's way too cold for the first week of April."

He tapped the car wheel, creating a tune out of it. "That's what I've been saying."

He chuckled. "Great minds think alike, right?"

"I guess so...by the way, where are we going?"

Shifting the car into drive, he said, "Well, you sounded quite serious in the morning, so I thought it would be best if we went somewhere low-key to discuss this."

"And where would that be?" I asked.

"Just this place that me and my buddies go to whenever we want to kill two birds with one stone. You know? Enjoying a nice meal and getting work done? You'll love it, I promise."

"I hope," I said, putting on my seatbelt.

We sped down a couple of blocks, relatively avoiding all of the congested streets, before we arrived at a local diner I had always seen on my way to work but never visited.

"Is this it?"

He smiled, his dimples popping out. "Come on. You're going to like it."

Sitting down at a table meant for four people, I admired the theme of the diner. It was small, large enough to hold only a handful of tables, and didn't draw much traffic. Besides us, there was only an old couple sitting near the counters and a business woman ordering takeout. I couldn't help but feel that everyone else was missing out.

The theme of the restaurant was 90s retro, with bright yellow tiles on the walls and white floors. The lighting was bright enough to see the minuscule details they put into the decorations, but not overly so to hurt our eyes. Overall, it did not feel like a restaurant. It felt like home.

Once we had ordered our food—I went with the traditional order of a cheeseburger and fries with a drink, while Eli asked for chicken soup with a side of fries—I finally took the time to look at him. After seeing him in his uniform day in and day out, his casual clothing burned against the backdrop of the restaurant. Although I had, in a way, spent my most vulnerable years with his family, he and I never got the chance to connect to the same level as Dex and I. Perhaps, if I had, he would not look like a stranger to me now.