"Now, detective... let me tell you who you are."
The words hung between us.
For the first time since I walked through the diner's door, I wasn't entirely sure what expression I was wearing.
Joe was smiling as usual.
Not the broad, theatrical grin he'd used with the waitress.
Nor the amused expression he'd worn whenever I refused to answer one of his questions.
This smile was smaller.
Sharper.
The kind a person wore when they'd just found the edge of something they hadn't known was there.
I didn't answer and neither did he.
The waitress appeared from behind the counter carrying two plates, completely oblivious to the atmosphere sitting between us. She placed the apple pies on the table with a quiet clatter, a small puff of steam rising from the crust.
"Careful. They're hot."
I nodded.
"Thanks."
Joe looked down at his slice.
"Absolutely beautiful."
The waitress smiled, even showing a feint blush across her cheeks.
"I've been told."
Joe returned the smile pointing a finger at himself.
"By me?"
She laughed awkwardly.
"Sure."
She walked away.
Watching her disappear, I noticed Joe was not staring in her direction at all.
He watched me.
I could feel it. His gaze was ever present, and completely locked onto me.
That was the problem with people like him. You could feel them watching even when their eyes weren't directly on you. Almost as if you could sense their intent.
I picked up my fork.
"You're actually eating?" He suddenly asked with a slight curl upwards in the corner of his lips.
"I'm hungry, so I will eat."
"I assumed you were too nervous. I know I am. You are pretty intimidating when you want to be." He said, completely relaxed back in his seat.
"I don't get nervous."
That wasn't entirely true.
I was nervous. But that wasn't a bad thing. Nervousness kept one alert. On edge and always detail oriented.
But not because of the pie.
Cutting into it, I took a bite.
Warm apples. Cinnamon. Too much sugar.
The reflection appeared in the window beside me.
"Surely he's trying to calm himself. We got him on the ropes, I can feel it."
Ignoring him, I noticed Joe actually took a bite of the pie he had gotten. He seemed almost pleased with himself as he let out a hum of approval.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"It's pie."
"That's not an answer."
"It's not that good." He answered slyly before taking another bite, anyway.
I narrow my eyes at him. Of course, I should never take his outside reaction for the one he is having on the inside. With him, I must treat right as left, and up as down.
"So...you said were going to tell me who I am."
Joe put his fork down.
"Was I?"
"You said you were."
"I said I was going to try."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
His eyes remained fixed on mine.
"But it's much more fun. Trying means there is a chance of failure, and failure is a chance for trying again, and trying again means more fun to be had. It is a simple cycle of life, detective."
There was that word again.
Fun.
Everything with him seemed to return to the same concept.
The cult. Manipulating people and families. This entire investigation on him. Even this very conversation we are having now.
Everything became a game the moment he could turn it into one.
Leaning back, I tilt my hat down.
"All right."
Joe waited.
"Go ahead."
I gestured toward myself with my thumb.
"Tell me who I am."
His smile widened. He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at my hands.
Then my coat.
Then my shoes.
My watch.
My coffee.
The table.
The window.
Every little detail.
I had seen people profile suspects before.
Most weren't very good at it.
This thing was.
He didn't just notice things.
He understood what they meant.
"You don't sleep much."
I shrugged.
"Occupational hazard. It comes with the territory."
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"You don't sleep because you don't like what happens when you're alone with your thoughts."
The reflection leaned closer to the glass.
"He's good."
I ignored him as Joe continued.
"You drink coffee when you're tired, but you don't actually enjoy it."
I glanced down at my cup for a split second.
"You don't drink it for the taste. You drink it because it's something to do with your hands. It keeps you busy, distraced from any unwanted thoughts."
He leaned in closer.
"Your shoulders are constantly tense. Not from stress. But from aniticipation. The anticipation that something could happen at any time."
His smile became quieter.
"You need there to be something happening."
I hold back a grunt. There was truth in his words, and he was good at using them.
I had spent years chasing criminals who kept finding ways to disappear.
Cases that went nowhere.
Cold trails.
Dead ends.
And every time one appeared, I'd tell myself I needed to solve it. But maybe there was another reason.
Maybe I needed the chase.
The reflection smiled.
"Now we're getting somewhere. This is what we were meant for. The thrill of the chase. Hunting the foxes that bit the rabbit. It is our fun."
I stared at Joe.
"You've been watching me for a long time."
"I've been watching you for a few minutes."
"No."
He tilted his head curiousity written all over him.
"You've been watching me for much longer than that."
He smiled.
"I think you're confusing me with yourself."
That made me pause.
"What do you mean?"
"You've spent years watching me."
He tapped the table.
"Studying me."
Tap.
"Following me."
Tap.
"Listening to me speak."
He leaned back.
"And now you're starting to see some things in yourself...that you see in me. We are not so different, you and I."
I felt my jaw tighten at his words. I was nothing like him.
Joe picked up his fork again and took another bite of pie. He looked almost casual.
Almost friendly. Like a friendly neighbor who'd help you move in and invite you over for a drink, and that is what makes him so dangerous.
He wasn't trying to dominate the room. He had no need to.
He simply sat there and waited for me to react.
"You're not a normal detective." He said.
"Neither are you a normal pastor."
The smile returned.
"Let's trade."
"Trade what?"
"Truths."
I stared at him.
"One truth for another."
"That's not how investigations work."
"Exactly why it'll be interesting. We get to learn more about eachother this way."
I shook my head.
"No."
Joe sighed.
"What a shame."
He leaned back, a sudden wide smile appearing on his face.
"Fine. I'll go first."
I raised an eyebrow about to object once again, but he spoke before I could.
"I grew up with loving parents. Who loved and cherished me with all their hearts."
That surprised me.
Not because of the fact itself.
Because he offered it so easily.
"Your turn." He said.
"I didn't agree."
"I know. So I will continue until you feel like butting in."
He tapped the table before continuing.
"They gave me everything I could have wanted."
He paused.
"Money. Safety. Education. A good home."
He looked down at his pie.
"And I became this, anyway. They must be proud."
The casualness disappeared for half a second.
There was something almost empty behind his eyes.
Then the grin returned.
"So that's one."
He lifted his fork.
"Your turn now, and you cannot object."
I said nothing yet.
"See? That's the problem with detectives."
"What?"
"You want the truth."
He pointed the fork at me.
"Just not when it costs you something in return."
I felt something twist in my chest.
The reflection sat on the table.
"Careful."
I looked away from it.
Joe watched me.
"I'll make it easy."
He lowered his voice.
"Why did you become a detective?"
That was simple indeed. But why so simple?
"To help people."
Joe smiled.
"That answer came too quickly."
"Because it's true."
"I'm sure it is."
He took another bite.
"But that's not the whole truth."
I stared at him.
He swallowed, this time not reacting to the taste at all. No disgust, and no fulfilment.
"People who genuinely want to help usually choose easier ways to do it. A detective? That takes a lot of skill."
"You don't know me."
"But I know people well enough."
He leaned forward.
"Maybe once upon a time you wanted to catch someone. Maybe you wanted to understand them, and somewhere along the way you started to enjoy a part of it."
My fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
The reflection leaned close to my ear.
"He's right y'know."
"Shut up." I growled out lowly.
Joe's smile faded.
"What was that detective?"
I realized I'd spoken aloud.
"Nothing."
He stared at me.
Then his eyes narrowed, and there here was a tiny shift in his posture.
His amusement disappeared.
Not entirely though. But just enough.
He had noticed something. Something behind in his eyes was connecting.
Of course there was.
"Interesting." He murmured.
I looked up.
"What?"
Joe leaned back again.
"Nothing."
The reflection stared at Joe.
Then at me.
"You better be careful."
Joe folded his hands.
"You don't have to answer."
"I'm not going to."
"Oh, I know."
He smiled.
"That's why I asked. Your refusal tells me more than your answer would've."
I hated him...I genuinely hated him.
Not because he was evil. Not entirely at least.
Because he was good at this.
And worse...
Part of me enjoyed it.
The reflection grinned.
"There we are."
I looked at the window.
I saw him staring at me.
No, it wasn't him, it was me. Or was it him? It was hard to tell who I was looking at in this current moment.
Joe noticed my eyes move.
"Notice a bird, detective?"
"It's nothing."
He didn't push. That bothered me more than if he had. It possibly meant he already knew was he needed to know.
Instead, he changed direction.
"What happened to Thomas?"
I looked back at him.
"You already know."
"I know what he told me."
"Then you know."
"No."
Joe's expression became more serious.
"I know what you wanted him to believe."
Silence.
"And what does that mean?"
"It means you think he was taken."
"Wasn't he?"
"I don't know."
Joe leaned back.
"But I know this."
He tapped the table once.
"Someone else is moving pieces, detective."
That was exactly what I had been thinking.
"Why tell me that? You could have kept this to yourself."
"Because I am sure you already had some idea."
I frowned.
"You think there are more people involved."
"I think people are predictable."
He smiled.
"Except when they aren't."
"You believe someone else took Thomas."
"I do indeed believe someone took Thomas."
"Who?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
I almost smiled.
"You're investigating your own investigation."
"I like knowing who is playing with my toys. They're valuable collectibles, y'know."
"Thomas isn't a toy nor a collectible."
Joe's expression changed.
Very slightly.
His eyes hardened.
"To me, he is."
There it was.
The monster in the light.
A man who could say something like that without shame.
The reflection leaned toward me.
"Now you see him."
I did.
And somehow...
I still couldn't look away.
Joe suddenly spoke darkly.
"And to you he is too."
I froze as he pointed toward me.
"You put monsters in boxes."
He counted them on his fingers.
"Thieves. Murderers. Cult leaders."
A shrug.
"You need us to fit somewhere."
His smile disappeared.
"But people don't."
Silence.
"I'm not a monster because you say I am."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"I'm a monster because I choose to be, and I am a monster because you are too."
The words settled over the booth.
For the first time all evening, I had nothing to say.
Joe leaned back again.
And just like that, the tension broke.
He picked up his fork.
"Your pie is getting cold."
I stared at him.
Then at the plate.
"You really are insane."
He smiled.
"Yes."
The answer came so easily that I almost laughed.
Taking another bite, the silence that followed after felt different than before.
Not comfortable, but not hostile either.
It was strange.
Two men eating pie while discussing cults, missing people, and morality.
If someone had told me this was how my night would end...
I would've asked for a transfer.
The waitress walked over.
"You boys need anything else?"
Joe looked at me.
"Coffee?"
"No."
He looked disappointed. He already knew I didn't truly like coffee.
Then turned toward her.
"Two coffees."
I stared.
"You just ordered for me, why?"
"Because you're going to need it."
The waitress left.
A few minutes passed, and soon the coffees had arrived.
I didn't touch mine.
Joe, of course, helped himself.
Steam rose between us. Like a barrier between two sides.
Two sides of the same table.
The smell of roasted beans filled the space.
He breathed it in deeply.
Then smiled.
"Much better."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"You looked like you were about to say something."
"I was thinking."
"Thinking is a dangerous thing for someone like you detective."
I ignored him.
"I think I know what you're doing."
Joe smiled.
"Do you?"
"You're trying to make me angry."
"Never that good, sir."
"You're trying to make me defensive."
"Could never."
"You're trying to get me to tell you things."
"Your life is probably boring anyway."
Joe leaned forward.
"I'm trying to see who you become when you stop trying to be a detective. Where's the monster in you?..."
Silence.
That was a different answer from I as expecting. I was half thinking he was trying to know me better, or rile me up with his behavior.
However, it seems he already knew me and my behavior already, and was going for something much deeper.
"You spend so much time wearing the badge, that hat," he said quietly, "that I wonder what happens when you take it off."
"Where does the detective go, and who comes for fun after that?"
He didn't truly need me to answer, and I didn't.
The reflection appeared in the window.
This time it wasn't smiling.
"Don't answer him."
I tilt my hat down slightly.
Joe watched me.
He knew he hit something somewhere. He just didn't know what.
Not yet.
With the chair scraping against the floor, I suddenly stood up.
The waitress looked over.
I reached for my coat.
"We're done here."
Joe remained seated.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"You didn't finish your coffee."
"I didn't order it."
"What a sad waste of a coffee detective. Like I said, you're going to need it. Whether that be eventually or now. You'll need it."
I shook my head.
"Goodnight, Pastor."
I turned.
"Detective."
I stopped.
I looked back.
Joe was still sitting in the booth.
Still smiling.
But there was something different in his face now. Something more thoughtful.
"You know what I find interesting? You never answered my question."
"And which question was that?"
"Who are you?"
There was silence between before he smiled and sighed.
"Well, I suppose I'll find out, eventually."
Turning and walking away, the bell above the door rang highly as I stepped into the night.
Cold air hit my face.
Rain had started falling again, thin and steady beneath the streetlights.
I stopped beneath the awning, and for a moment I just took a second to breath.
The diner behind me glowed warmly against the darkness.
A comfortable little box.
A place where two men had sat across from one another and tried to understand what the other wanted.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt hollow.
The reflection appeared in the diner window beside me.
"You like him."
I closed my eyes.
"No."
"You do."
"He's a criminal."
"He's interesting."
"He's dangerous."
"So are you."
My eyes opened.
The reflection smiled.
"That's why you like him."
I stepped away from the window.
"You're wrong."
"Am I?"
I kept walking.
Rain soaked into my coat as cars passed by in blurred streaks of white and red.
I reached my car and unlocked it.
Before opening the door, I looked back at the diner.
Joe was still inside.
I could see him through the glass.
He had returned to his pie. Completely relaxed and at ease with his current life.
As if none of what had happened mattered. As if he hadn't spent the last couple hours peeling apart the man sitting across from him.
As if he hadn't gotten dangerously close to something I had spent years keeping buried.
I got into the car.
The door shut.
Silence.
I gripped the steering wheel.
The reflection appeared in the rearview mirror.
"You almost told him."
"No."
"You wanted to. You wondered what would happen if you did."
I looked away.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
The reflection smiled.
"I know exactly what I'm talking about."
Starting the engine the reflection remained.
"You've been pretending we're two people for so long."
I froze.
"What?"
The smile faded.
"Maybe that's the problem."
I stared into the mirror.
For once, neither of us spoke.
Then the reflection quietly said:
"Maybe we're both the same person."
My hands tightened around the wheel.
"We are nothing alike. Do not go comparing us."
"But you already knew that." He said, ignoring my words completely.
I looked away.
The car pulled onto the street, buildings passed outside my window.
Streetlights.
Storefronts.
People.
The ordinary world continued moving around me. But something inside me had changed.
I had gone to the diner expecting to study Joseph Bishop.
Instead...
In the mirror of the car sat me, and in the reflection was a smile. A smile so wide some would think the mirror is playing tricks on them. A grin that belonged to a long hidden monster.
"Who are we, Detective Shutes..."