.

The counterfeit passports had turned up in warehouses around Bangkok; quite a few of them bore the RRNs (RRN stands for "Retrieval Reference Number" and in the context of banking, a RRN is a unique identifier assigned to a transaction when it is processed by a bank's card payment system.) of people registered as runaways. Having rather made a name for himself as the expert on missing persons even all the way out in Bangkok Foreign Affairs in Bangkok had called him to offer fresh insight into their investigation.

It had felt like a no-brainer to agree to help. Kongpob should have known the unprecedented event known as Arthit Rojnapat would complicate things.

Given the choice, Kongpob would prefer to ignore Inspector Nat's question and wait out the silence in the meeting room. But even Inspector Lee, who was supposed to lead the debriefing, was staring at him expectantly.

Kongpob sighed. "He was my partner when I was stationed in Lampang."

"Just a partner?" Inspector Nat turned to the rest. "You should have seen him bouncing to that man like a puppy. I thought he'd been possessed."

The problem was that Kongpob had worked with most of this team during his time in this division. They'd known him as the mysophobic standoffish son of the Deputy Commissioner who didn't initiate conversation unless he needed something.

"Did they drug you in Lampang?" said Inspector Lee. "It's not as difficult for townies to get their hands on hard drugs as you might think."

"Get on with it," said Chief Off.

"Don't pretend, chief. We know you're curious too," grumbled Inspector Nat. "The man who melted Inspector Suthiluck's heart."

Kongpob leveled Inspector Nat with a look. "Are you finished?"

Inspector Nat froze. Nodded.

"Good," said Kongpob.

Chief Off took him aside after the briefing. "We know you value your privacy but you didn't need to snap at Inspector Nat. You know what he's like."

"So you'd prefer I encourage Inspector Nat's unprofessionalism?" Kongpob cocked his head to the side. "Is this how you still run your team?"

Chief Off scoffed. "You haven't changed, have you?"

Kongpob was used to superiors disliking him. Even this particular superior who would have been promoted to Director General had he not dismissed Kongpob's assertions that a serial killer was behind the deaths of those illegal immigrants two years ago. Kongpob understood jealousy and avarice and how both corroded the hearts of career policemen like Chief Off.

Just as well, Kongpob no longer answered to him. He returned to his seat, ignoring the way the others avoided his eyes and resolved to crack the case quickly so he could return to his post in Chiang Rai.

His phone buzzed.

A text from Arthit.

'Dinner tonight?'

'I don't like eating out,' Kongpob replied.

'You were fine yesterday. Let's eat at your place then.'

'Who said you could come over?'

'I can stop by the supermarket if you're missing anything.'

"Did you find a new lead?" Inspector Lee's question was like an alarm ejecting him from a dream.

"Pardon?" said Kongpob.

"You're smiling."

"No. No new lead," he clarified. Kongpob bit down on his lip and typed,

'Just come over.'

Weekends at the Police University started the moment lectures let out on Friday. The students would unclench, stretching their hands high above their heads as conversation about weekend plans filled the corridor. Shopping and Karaoke sessions, dates, and dinner with the family.

When the guidance counselor asked Kongpob why he had no such weekend plans, Kongpob questioned her concern. He was outperforming the rest of his cohort.

When he had agreed to spend time with classmates, cousins, and peers, he'd simply counted the minutes until he could politely excuse himself.

It was fine. He did well enough without those emotionally draining relationships; the same relationships that had left those excited classmates weeping during class because a girlfriend had left for another country or wanted a break or something.

'Why,' Kongpob had wondered, 'did people seek out complications?'

Arthit's latest text read, 'I'm outside.'

Kongpob hurried down to the parking lot, patting his hair.

Arthit was standing by Kongpob's SUV, in the middle of a phone call.

"I've spotted him. Talk to you later." He hung up.

"Namtan says hi and to tell you to visit soon."

"Weren't we meeting at my apartment?"

"I had free time." Arthit lifted a plastic bag. "I decided to go to the supermarket nearby."

"Private investigation must be easy."

Arthit tsked. "You've grown cheekier, Inspector Suthiluck."

Kongpob preened. It was addicting; this feeling.

"And who's this?" Arthit said.

Inspector Lee warily approached them and handed Kongpob the burner phone he kept for informants. "You left this on the desk."

Kongpob thanked him and made reluctant introductions.

"Have you known our Kongie for long? You seem very familiar with him," said Arthit.

Kongpob wasn't sure which made Inspector Lee's brow jump: the implication that he knew him well or 'our Kongie'.

"Sort of," said Inspector Lee. "We were in the same cohort at the Police University."

"So you have known him a while," crowed Arthit. "Wouldn't you agree that he has grown a lot cuter since?"

"Arthit Rojnapat!" Kongpob should be more appalled but Arthit was grinning.

"Is that the tone to take with me after I went grocery shopping for you?"

"That's the least you could do since I'm the one cooking."

"No, I'm cooking," said Arthit. "I bought ingredients for Pork Skewers. You don't know how to make that, do you?"

Kongpob fumed. "I gave you a list."

"Someone who only keeps bottled water in his fridge doesn't get to talk."

Inspector Lee cleared his throat. "I'll see you tomorrow, Inspector Suthiluck. It was nice to meet you, Khun Arthit"

He made an awkward turn, stumbling against Arthit who, in an attempt to steady him without dropping the groceries, lost balance himself. Kongpob caught him, his two hands grasping Arthit's torso just under the arms. A distant part of Kongpob's brain registered it as a rather intimate part of a person to touch. Not many circumstances occasioned it. Latissimus dorsi muscles, Kongpob remembered from A-level Biology. Arthit's muscles were firm.

Arthit patted Kongpob's hand. "You don't have to keep on holding me. I'm not that old."

Inspector Lee looked at Kongpob's hand and quickly bowed his head. "I'm sorry about that. It's been another long day."

"Is that right? Then I should take this one home right away. Come along, Inspector Suthiluck. Charming young man," he added as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kongpob's SUV.

"Old flame?"

"Like I said, your jokes aren't funny." Kongpob buckled his seatbelt and brought his SUV out of the park.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, Kongpob dreamed of an ocean. A shore that ran on forever as Kongpob walked along it. Someone said,

 "Why are you walking so close to the waves? Look, your trousers are wet.'"Kongpob's dress slacks were dark up to his knees.

"Arthit, you're not any better," said Kongpob.

The nebulous someone became Arthit, who, drenched in ocean water, smelled inexplicably of grilled meat and rain.

"Why didn't you look for me for one whole year?" said Kongpob. No communication whatsoever until Namtan had asked him to visit for the anniversary of Chief Tha's death and Arthit was wearing brighter colours.

"You didn't want to see me, right? You're just playing with me because you happen to be in town, right?"

It started to rain; the ocean was replaced by Chiang Mai Beach.

The morning air upon waking was sour. Kongpob made coffee.

Today was Arthit's last day in Bangkok. The trail for his case was growing cold and there were only so many nights in the shitty motel he could charge his client. He was driving back to Lampang tonight. Kongpob had extracted one last dinner promise; determined to repay him for last night.

Kongpob drew his cardigan closer to his body. His gaze drew towards the whiteboard where he had mapped out his current investigation. Arthit had drawn an arrow between two events, suggesting a possible new line of inquiry.

Longing-soaked Kongpob bit by bit. Like a shadow growing in dying light. By the time Kongpob had to get ready for work, he felt hollow.