I smiled, thinking of the reluctant Detective Keegan. Rarely was an arrangement like that ever truly mutual.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Anyway, I guess that’s it for now. May I walk you to your car?”

I nodded, gesturing towards Sixth Street.

“Tom probably told you that he and I go way back,” he said amiably as we headed off. “We were in college together.”

“Here at Penn?” I asked. Tom’s alma mater was one of the few facts I knew about him.

“Yes,” Duane said. “Though I’ve got to tell you, you’re a lot different from the gals Tom went for back then.”

I felt my steps falter for a moment.

“I don’t understand,” I said, regaining my footing, keeping my voice light. “What do you mean, ‘went for’?”

“I mean, you know, Tom always dated real flashy types. You’re very beautiful, of course, but in a subtle way. More classy.”

“Duane…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not making a pass at you. Tom already told me that you’re all his. Strictly hands-off for me.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him.

“He said what?”

“That you were hands-off. ‘Just give her the facts,’ he told me. ‘No dates, no flirting, no trying to run the ball to the end zone.’ So don’t worry. I got the point.”

I felt a red flush creep into my cheeks.

“I’m not ‘all his,’” I said, confusion pounding in my brain. “It’s none of Tom’s business who makes a pass at me. My relationship with him is purely a business one.”

“That’s not the impression I got,” he said, grinning. “But if you say so.”

“I say so.”

I opened my car door, climbed in, and shut the door. I had just put the key in the ignition when I heard Duane tapping on my window. I started the car and rolled it down.

“So how about it?” he asked, still grinning. “Since you’re fair game after all, would you like to go out while you’re in town, maybe have some dinner?”

“No,” I said sharply, then, hearing my tone of voice, repeated it again, more kindly. “No. But…thanks for asking.”

I put the car in gear and drove off, leaving him looking after me, confused. Though I wasn’t sure why, my hands were shaking by the time I finally reached the Smythe building and turned into the parking lot. Tom was just being protective, I thought as I slid my car into a narrow space and pulled to a stop. Like a big brother.

Or was he?

I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes for a moment, thinking back on all the long nights Tom and I spent talking on the phone, on all the exciting events we had shared, albeit via long distance. We were so close in so many ways—and yet, in many other ways, we barely knew each other.

Now he was insinuating to his friend that I somehow was “taken”? That I in some way belonged to him? It was too much to think about.