“Okay, I get it,” said Pia. “And you’re right. Okay, great! You keep the blood. We don’t know what we’re looking for, so you should hold on to what you have till we have a better idea.”

“Okay, I’ll keep it, but let me ask you another, personal question.”

“What’s that?” Pia asked. She stiffened, not knowing what was coming.

“Why are you avoiding looking at me? It makes me nervous, like you’re being secretive or you’re not telling me the truth.”

Pia forced herself to lock eyes with Paul at least for a few beats. It was hard for her as always. Then she came back to where she had been sitting and sat back down. Looking at her hands, she shook her head. “You’re right, but you’re wrong.”

It was time for Paul to shake his head. “If I’m supposed to understand that comment, you’re giving me far more credit than I deserve. What the hell are you saying?”

“You’re right about me not telling the truth, but you’re wrong about it being the reason I have difficulty looking you in the eye. This is probably more than you want to know, but I’ve been diagnosed with adult attachment disorder. Are you familiar with that?”

“I can’t say that I am.”

“Let’s put it this way and keep it simple. You can look it up online if you want. Basically I have trouble with social relationships.” Pia went on to give a quick explanation about her foster-care past. It was unusual for her to be as open as she was, but she liked Paul intuitively. She felt there was a beginning of a bond and she was willing to be uncharacteristically open in return. When she was finished, she forced herself to look at him again and try to hold it. She couldn’t.

After a moment of silence Paul said, “Thank you for telling me what you have. I feel honored. I felt yesterday I wanted to get to know you more, and now it is an even stronger feeling. But what about this comment you made that you weren’t telling me the truth? Do you have a drug problem, Pia?”