Her attention was fully focused on trying to make her appointment with the detective. Val punched his number into her cell phone, but the voicemail came on. She quickly left a message and rushed back to her car. Jesus, hopefully he’ll pick this up and not leave before I get there.

Val arrived at the Anchor Bar by 6:30. The place was full and she had to stand on her tiptoes to peer around as she searched for Gavin. She finally noticed him sitting at the bar. A half empty bottle of beer was in front of him. “Did you get my message?”

“Yes,” he said. “I gave the hostess my name for a table. She said it could be a while. Looks like she was right. Have you eaten? The food here is pretty good.”

“No. And I’m starving.”

“Can I get you something to drink while we wait?”

“A Heineken would be great,” she said, eyeing his bottle.

Gavin motioned for the bartender and ordered. The man sitting next to him stood up and offered Val his seat. As she sat down, the bartender brought over her drink.

“So, you were a dentist?” Gavin asked. “Are dead patients treating you better than live ones? I can’t imagine they would pay better.”

Val looked down and started to play with the ends of the napkin that her beer sat on, nervously fidgeting and tearing at the corner. She hated this question, but tonight as she tore bits of paper, the answer wasn’t difficult. Taking a deep breath she said bluntly, “I can’t practice anymore. I had an accident.”

Gavin immediately apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s no need for you to be sorry. Personally, I’ve spent too long feeling sorry about it.” Her days as a dentist were a thing of the past, plain and simple. She had a new career. She dropped her fingers from the napkin and turned to face Gavin directly, ready to handle any more questions.

“Now I’ve done it,” he said. “Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my big mouth shut.”

She smiled. “That’s okay. In order to make up for it, I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

“Deal,” he replied, grinning back at her. “So, what happened?”

“This.” She held up her hand. The scar was clearly visible.

“That’s pretty bad. Were you doing something dangerous?”

“Dangerous to the max,” Val said, and rather than describing what happened, added, “I was trying to fight crime.” She couldn’t believe how therapeutic it felt to state it so simply. Her response made Gavin laugh.

“If that’s what happened, you should probably leave crime fighting to the experts then,” he said.