Chapter Five Brad
Chapter Five
Brad
“You know what Ray’s like.” Kennedy tugged hard on the laces of his skates as he filled me in on the details of the previous night at the Wicked Goose. “He was giving her some newbie hazing, but it was Bostwick that drove her off.”
“Why’s that?”
“He googled her while we were all there. You can imagine how that went.”
He gave me a face, and I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was thankful for the cold air in the rink as my temperature rose.
“He sure as hell didn’t read her body language, if you know what I mean. Gotta give her credit—she held her own for a bit, but after Bostwick’s big reveal she skipped out the second she could. That’s when she bumped into you.”
I wriggled the jersey over my pads and grabbed my gloves and stick. “Shit.” I was pissed.
“At the risk of overstepping, especially on something I promised you I’d never ask and want zero to know about”—he gave me a look—“I know everyone processes trauma in different ways, my friend, but I could practically smell her fear. I kid you not, she went white as a ghost when Bostwick brought it up.” He leaned closer when the ref popped his head through the door to see if we were ready.
“All I’m saying is maybe check in with her. ”
“Ready?” the ref asked.
“Yeah.” I tried to push Kennedy’s words out of my head.
Ever since Bree came back, all sorts of mixed and twisted feelings about so many things had come out of hiding.
I’d tried to make a life with Sherry, but I’d failed miserably.
The darkness inside me finished us. But in the short time since Bree had returned, I felt better—lighter actually.
I just didn’t know what to do with that.
“Come on, let’s go kick NY’s ass.” Kennedy slapped my shoulder. We hurried onto the ice and skated over to where the rest of the team warmed up.
“Drinks tonight?” Kennedy asked as we were about to split up to head for our cars. “I mean, these quick hands”—he wiggled his fingers at me—“basically won the game.” He grinned.
I waved him off with a laugh as my phone vibrated, and I wondered if it was Bree. I hoped last night didn’t play too hard in her head. “I’ll get back to ya,” I called out to him as I tossed my hockey bag into the SUV and slid into the driver’s seat.
Sherry: Thought maybe we could have dinner tonight and talk.
I started the engine and thought about her text. She’d been keeping her distance from me, and I was happy with that.
Bradley: Not a good day. Rain check?
Sherry: I know how your days get. Dinner will be ready at six.
Bradley: Another day.
Another text came through, and I switched over to that chat.
Bree: I think I might have found something.
Bradley: Where are you?
Bree: Just got to Velvet Nightclub
I was just down the road from her, so it would be easy.
Bradley: Stay there, I’ll come to you.
I took the next turn and headed in her direction. With my arm on the edge of the open window, I felt the cool northeastern autumn day refresh my hot skin. I squeezed my water bottle and sucked some Gatorade down my throat, then tossed back some peanuts for protein.
My phone rang, and I saw it was Mom.
“Hey.”
“Hi, honey.” Her voice rang through the speaker. “Sherry just confirmed she’s picking Ginger up tonight. Okay?”
Fuck me.
“No, I have Gin for three more days.” Was that why she wanted to have dinner, so she could pick up Ginger early? Ginger wasn’t even her dog to begin with. I had gotten her when I knew I was spiraling, and I was only being nice by sharing her.
“Must be a misunderstanding, hon. Maybe just give her a call.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that later. Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you.”
As I drove, my mood took a dive. Sherry knew what Ginger did for my head.
She was my buddy, the one that never judged or cared if my day sucked.
She was just there for me. The past week I’d noticed that Sherry had been messing with me through her.
I had no idea why, but I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
When I spotted Bree’s truck, I parked as close as I could. I couldn’t help but slam the door as I left. It made me feel a little better, but the anger still simmered as I met Bree outside the nightclub. “Tell me you actually got something and are not just chasing some bullshit lead.”
“Wow.” She shifted her bag on her shoulder. “So, you’re in a good mood.” She studied my face and whistled.
“Sorry.” I rubbed my head. “Been a day.”
“I thought hockey helped you de-stress?”
“How did you know I played today?”
She smiled wide. “Because you smell like hockey.”
I did? I sniffed my arm. “Is it a bad smell?”
“No.” She pulled out her phone. “It’s just your hockey smell.”
“I didn’t know that,” I muttered and wondered what else I had that I wasn’t aware of. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I was just poking around. I could have met you somewhere else, but since you’re here . . .” She opened the door, and I followed behind, taking a moment to enjoy her backside, and all thoughts of Sherry went out of my head. “What do you see?”
“I see the coat room, the ID checkpoint, today’s shipment of”—I turned the box around—“Grey Goose.” I looked at her, not sure what she was getting at.
“I see this.” She pointed to the wall, at all the beer advertisements.
“Which made me think about marketing, which led me to think about social media and how beer sponsors online are huge right now. I looked into some of the breweries, and, for example, East Dog increased their sales thanks to a deal with some local college pubs. Then I went to this beer’s”—she pointed to the Sea Foam Brew—“social media pages.” She stepped close and held her phone up so I could see it over her shoulder.
Her scent filled my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply.
She smelled fresh and had a hint of something sweet I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“This is Sophia.” She pointed at the screen.
“She’s one of their top influencers. She was here both nights the girls were murdered. ”
“Really?” That’s something.
“And she works the club from open to close wearing a body cam.” She tapped on a video, and the girl popped up. She was talking about the upcoming night’s events. Then the camera flipped around as she clipped it back into place on her chest. It showed a great view of everyone’s faces.
“Holy shit, Bree.” I leaned down to study the footage better. “How did you get this, or is all this on her social page?”
“Detectives.” The bartender we interviewed before gave us a wave, and we approached. “Can I get you a drink?” He polished a glass, and I noticed his hand shook slightly. “Or maybe something for dinner? The staff orders from next door.”
“No thanks, we’re good.” Bree smiled.
“Your hand okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, just tired. Hazard of the job, I guess.” He held up the glass.
“Where was I?” Bree went on. “Oh yes. There was a lot on her page but only small snippets, so I contacted her and got the entire two nights’ worth of footage.”
“Wow.” That impressed me. “Did you go through it? Did you find anything? Any leads?”
“I watched a lot, but there’s a ton of footage, and I was tired last night.
However, I did catch this.” She switched to her camera roll and brought up a screen-recorded video.
“Sophia jumped up on the bar and this guy”—she gave a light shrug—“reaches for her cuff. Look at his thumb.” She looked over her shoulder at me.
“It might be nothing, but this was about fifteen minutes before the actual murder. Just the way he touches her, how he rubs her cuff . . . I don’t know, but it gives me creepy vibes. ”
“Creepy vibes?” I raised a playful brow at her, and she scoffed at me.
“It’s a real thing.”
“Right.” I laughed, impressed at what she’d found. “Any chance you can get this Sophia and maybe some of her friends together so we can interview them?”
“One step ahead of you.” She waved her phone at me. “They’re already waiting for us at Sophia’s apartment.”
“Great.”
She turned and walked backward toward the exit. When she opened the door, it revealed the sun was almost down. “I am kinda great, aren’t I?” She laughed as I followed her out, but I stopped when she climbed into her truck. “What?”
“Let’s take my car.”
She squinted at me. “Something wrong with my truck?”
“No.” I unlocked my car. “But mine has heat—does yours?”
Her mouth dropped open. “That’s incredibly offensive to her.
” She made a face at me but hauled out her big purse that doubled as a work bag.
“Just because she doesn’t always produce the warmest of air doesn’t mean she’s not as classy as this thing.
” She looked at my car funny. “What the hell kinda space car is this thing anyway?”
“A reliable one.” I slid her bag off her shoulder and opened the front passenger door.
“Don’t argue—I’m going to win every time.
” I couldn’t resist getting under her skin like old times.
Her eyes narrowed in on me, and her mouth pressed into a fine line.
There she is. “Isn’t Sophia waiting for us?
” I reminded her and held her murderous gaze as I struggled not to grin.
I knew she could see the twinkle of amusement in my eye.
“All right.” She nodded a few times. “I see the old Brad is still just below that corporate tie and crisp dress shirt.” She slipped inside and closed the door. I hurried around to my side, and we headed across town.