As observant as a hawk, Headly was leaning back in his chair and sipping from a cup of coffee with a casualness that Dawson knew was phony. He missed nothing, possibly not even the faint whisker burn on Amelia’s throat.
“Mom doesn’t let us have doughnuts for breakfast except sometimes on Saturdays. But she said it was okay today since Mr. Headly already brought them.”
“Then this is a treat.” Dawson licked the icing and sprinkles off his fingers.
Up to that point, he and Amelia had avoided looking directly at each other, an avoidance also noticed by Headly. Now, still not quite meeting his eyes, she offered Dawson coffee and started to leave her place at the table.
“I’ll help myself.”
He filled a mug with coffee and leaned against the counter to drink it while the boys finished their doughnuts. When they were done, Amelia sent them to wash their hands and faces. “Just what they needed,” she said, looking askance at Headly as she wiped the table with a damp sponge. “A sugar high.”
He chuckled. “We’ll figure out a way to let them run it off later.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
“In the meantime, the three of us need to talk.”
Amelia said, “Then I’d better figure out something to entertain the boys.”
Everything that she’d packed into her car the day before had been unpacked and put back in its proper place. While she was settling the boys down with a DVD on the TV in the living area, Dawson joined Headly at the table and assessed the doughnut inventory. “Any with Bavarian-cream filling?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Then this will have to do.” He selected a plain glazed.
“How’d it go last night?”
The question immediat
ely put Dawson on the defensive. “How’d what go?”
“Did you get the shakes?”
“I told you. I’m not a damn addict.”
“Any nightmares?”
He rolled his shoulders in a gesture that could have meant anything or nothing.
“Only because you didn’t sleep at all.”
Dawson silently endured Headly’s appraisal of his haggard face and the dark circles under his eyes.
“If she ever sees you looking normal, she might not be attracted. It may be the zombie effect she finds appealing.”
Dawson finished the rest of the doughnut, asking around the last bite, “Haven’t you got more important things to do than to try and piss me off?”
“What’s giving you nightmares?”
“I don’t recall telling you I had nightmares.”
“You didn’t deny it, either.”
Dawson folded his arms over his chest, letting his body language speak for itself.
But Headly wasn’t through with him. “When are you going to tell me what happened to you over there? Why are you afraid to fall asleep?”
Dawson mentally counted to ten, then repositioned himself in his chair to signal a change in topic. “Have you talked to Eva?”