The Bluest Blue (XII)

Ten minutes later they were at a coffee shop around the corner. They sat at a table sipping espresso and watching customers come in and out of the shop. The only sounds those of people chattering and the intermittent jangle of the bell attached to the door.

Davenport seemed content to sit there quietly, his gray eyes placid and still, like the unmoving surface of a lake just before a storm. Even during their walk from the garage to the coffee shop he’d been quiet. But what was really strange was that theirs was a companionable silence, as if they were old friends for whom words were now simply an afterthought. Unnecessary.

Brian downed the rest of his espresso and sighed. Davenport turned towards him and smiled.

-So Madeline has come to see you, despite my advice to the contrary.

-Yes, this morning. If you don’t mind me asking, what is this all about? Somehow I sense that you don’t mean me any harm…

-You can trust me. But there are people here who do mean you harm, Brian, which is why we have come.

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