Returning Home.

Chapter 19

Pulling up at the local Bakery, I quickly check myself in my sunshade mirror. I have no idea why I spent a little longer on my appearance then I would normally, I mean I am just meeting the Detective to go over his findings, its not like it is a date or anything like that.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, I grab my phone and hop out of the car, making my way up the steps to the bakery I see the Detective sitting on one of the outside high tables talking on his phone. I make my way over to him and slip into the seat across from him.

"I will be back in the office in an hour, I'm just meeting with a friend but will be back soon." the Detective says as he looks towards me and gives me a small wave.  Ending the call and placing his phone down, he moves his attention to me.

I take in his appearance, on the night that we had met I had not really had a decent look at him but here sitting on the deck I can see that the Detective is quite a handsome man with sharp edges to his cheeks that ran down to meet a prominent chin. His eyes were a sparkling chocolate brown which paired in well with his messy salt and pepper coloured hair. There is just something about his face and build that has me wondering why he chose a career as a detective.

"Thank you for joining me Dr Baxter" the Detective offers. I shuffle in my seat "Please call me Amelia" I ask "Dr Baxter reminds me of my father."  That saying has been something I have said for so long that it always just rolls of my tongue when a colleague would call me Dr Baxter. Now it has me stop and think about the fact that my father has passed away.

"Of course" I hear the detective say and it breaks me from my thoughts. "Please call me Holden, people seem to find it easier to remember." he responds. I chuckle as I imagine that people would get confused with the F.J part.

I wonder "Is F.J short for anything?" All the F.J's I know are usually called 'Frank John'. He leans back in his seat and says "You would think but my dad was such a car buff that my first name is actually just the initials 'F.J'. You would be surprised how many times I get asked that." He chuckles as if it is an internal joke.

He clears his throat and I notice that his facial features change into a more serious look. I see his shoulders shuffle and I look down to notice a folder that he has underneath his forearms on the table.

"What is your connection to 'The Wanderers'? He straight out asks. I internally gulp but try to not make any changes to my body language or face so that I don't give much away.

"As much as anyone else who grew up in this town. I've known the Tanners since I was born but I moved away when I was nearly 18 and only recently come back home and reconnected with them. Why do you ask?" I figured that if I overshare slightly he might realise that I'm not overly affiliated with them or draw up his own conclusions.

He seems to mull over my answer and then asks "Do you trust them?". I find that to be a strange question to be asked and I have to think for a minute on what would be the best response to this.

"Trust is such a hard thing to define. It would depend on what level of trust you would be referring too. I mean, I moved my boys back here to a town that I grew up in where the Wanderers have always been a big part of the town, so in that case, I trust them enough that I would live here with my children." I know that the answer is probably not what he was looking for, but I am still trying to create some form of distance in his eyes with regards to my involvement with the Wanderers.

I am curious to know what this is all leading too, so I figure I should just get straight to the point and ask "How dose this all relate to the Ferry Terminal?"

"I am new to the Bay, I've spent most of my life in the city working on various cases that were slightly more intricate but when I was asked to take this position for a change of scenery, I had this nagging feeling that there was more to this then what was initially told to me." He relaxes in his chair and is about to continue when Aunt Maise pops out the door and comes over to the table.