Chapter 1 #2
I sighed, my eyes fixated on where Abby had disappeared into the restroom.
I wondered what a girl like that was doing with the likes of Daphne Vaughn.
Part of me wanted to know more about her, but the logical part—the part that had always won out—knew there was no point in finding out.
My life was too busy, too chaotic. I was too wrapped up in crime scenes, warrants, and restraining orders.
In fact, I was so wrapped up in everything but tending to the bar, I was completely oblivious to the customer who’d just skipped out on his bill.
Kate nudged me in the ribs with her elbow as she piled her tray with appetizers. “Creepy dude at three o’clock just skedaddled.”
“Shit.” I lifted my head in time to watch a rickety white van pull out of a parking space. Squinting, I tried to read the license plate, as if I’d planned on hunting down The Withered Man and collecting his hard-earned ten dollars like some kind of beer vigilante.
“And there’s our new friend looking like she wants to stab me with these antipasto skewers at nine o’clock,” Kate added, lifting her tray in the air.
“Left and right works just as well.” I made eye contact with Abby when the two girls exited the bathroom.
Her haunted eyes had turned fiery, and my skin warmed in response.
To my surprise, instead of leaving the bar, the girls disappeared to the corner of the room to play darts with the Wilson brothers.
I carved a hand through my hair.
It was going to be a long night.
Abby
I hadn’t intended on trading insults over cocktails with the McAllister siblings that evening. In fact, I hadn’t intended on going out at all. There was a mess of unpacked boxes in Daphne’s small guest room that needed tending to.
“Let’s go to the bar tonight,” Daphne had suggested, popping a ruffled potato chip in her mouth as her 1950s swing dress kissed her knees.
The bar—not a bar.
Crow’s Peak had an assortment of dive bars and hole-in-the-wall pubs, but there was only one place worth going to, according to Daphne: The Crow Bar.
A clever name to say the least. It was where most of the locals gathered, along with residents of the larger nearby town of Ashland. I had shrugged. I hadn’t been opposed to a little socialization. It would give me a legitimate reason to procrastinate from unpacking, other than, “this sucks.”
I’d agreed.
And now I regretted it.
Another burst of thunder roared outside, followed by the sound of torrential rainfall pelting the roof. I shuddered, glancing up at the ceiling. I hated thunderstorms. They put me on edge and made me anxious.
Wrapping an arm around myself, I sipped a Gin and Tonic, my eyes occasionally wandering over to the bartender across the room.
Daphne had warned me about Cooper and Kate McAllister.
There had been a tiff between the women ever since Daphne had graduated college five years ago and moved up to the quiet town of Crow’s Peak called The Crow.
It had involved a boy.
Typical.
Cooper was a cop, his sister was a waitress, and their father, Abe McAllister, owned The Crow Bar. Their family was well known throughout the town of less than one-thousand residents.
Crow’s Peak had become my home the moment Nana Cecily had passed away and left me with a house I didn’t want and memories I desperately needed to escape.
I could appreciate the town’s appeal, considering I’d been born and raised in the bustling north shore suburbs of Chicago.
For what my hometown lacked in charm, it made up for in entitlement, deadlines, and an obscene amount of traffic.
I really didn’t miss the traffic.
I also didn’t miss the ghosts I’d left behind, or my high school sweetheart who’d broken my heart.
And I had stopped missing my brother a long time ago.
“Stop ogling.”
I lowered my drink and turned to face Daphne, whose nose was glued to her cell phone. “What?”
“You and your eyeballs. Stop,” Daphne clipped.
“My eyeballs are none of your concern. And I’m not ogling.”
Daphne slipped her phone into her purse and crossed her arms over her partially exposed cleavage. “I love you, Abs, but the McAllisters and I have a very sordid history. I can’t sit back and watch you make eyes at Kate’s asshole brother.”
Sordid?
I couldn’t help but snort gin out of my nose. “I wouldn’t exactly call a post-college love triangle sordid.” My laughter ebbed, and I took another sip of my drink. “And I’m not making eyes at anybody. I’m observing the crowd.”
Daphne scoffed as one of the Wilson brothers—Tom?—approached with three darts in hand. She accepted them and stood from her chair. “I saw that look he gave you. I’m not blind.”
I chugged the rest of my beverage, my alcohol buzz increasing with every gulp. Daphne was imagining things. There was no look. Shifting my gaze to the bar again, I watched as Cooper handed out drinks like he’d been doing it his whole life.
He was attractive; I couldn’t lie. Well-muscled, slightly rugged, chocolate-brown hair and hazel eyes. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Sure, he was hot.
But I wasn’t interested.
Cooper McAllister was rude. His sister was ruder.
And I wasn’t keen on getting involved with any man.
Ever.
Jordan had ruined me.
As the thought trickled through my mind, Cooper glanced up and caught my stare.
My ogling.
Dammit.
I smoothed out the fabric of my knee-length dress and made a quick decision to approach the bar. “Be right back,” I muttered to Daphne, not waiting for a response. She was too wrapped up in flirting with the Wilsons to notice me slip away.
I stepped over to where Cooper was inputting drink orders on his register. His eyes found mine for a beat before he refocused on the transaction.
“What can I get you?” he asked, his fingers tapping away at the keys.
I placed my hands atop the counter and leaned forward, enjoying the satisfying buzz that had settled in. “An apology.”
Cooper faltered.
I could have sworn I saw a smile touch his lips, but he replaced it with a look of indifference.
“No,” he said.
I scoffed at him. “Why not?”
“You insulted my sister.” Cooper handed a receipt to a customer with a nod and continued to busy himself around the bar. “Therefore, you insulted me.”
“Well, she was being bitchy. She doesn’t even know me.”
“Well, I’m not sorry.”
A standoff.
I chewed my bottom lip, contemplating my next move. The gin was making me frisky. Cooper’s resistance was making me angry.
The look in his eyes was making me curious.
“Fine,” I relented. “A Gin and Tonic.”
That ghost of a smile reappeared on his mouth. “You got it.”
Tapping my unpainted fingernails against the countertop, I watched him make the drink, my gaze floating from his hands to his face. His chiseled jawline was shadowed in dark stubble. He looked jaded, like he’d seen one too many horrors.
A jaded cop. A jaded city girl.
It would never work.
Cooper set the drink down in front of me, and I reached for my purse to fetch my wallet.
He stopped me. “It’s on the house.”
An apology drink.
I couldn’t help but grin at my small victory. “Thanks,” I told him. I was about to walk away and rejoin Daphne and her uninspiring game of darts when Cooper interrupted my exit.
“Hey.”
His gaze traveled over me, prompting a tingly sensation to unfurl in the pit of my stomach.
It’s just the gin, it’s just the gin, my mind chanted.
He wasn’t leering. There was nothing salacious or offensive in his scrutiny.
There was…something else.
Something warm.
“Welcome to The Crow.”
I wavered, my fingers tightening around the strap of my baguette purse. My other hand clutched the cold glass of my tonic, squeezing it like a security blanket. I nodded. I’d planned on replying, responding, saying something, but Cooper had already disappeared to the opposite end of the bar.
“Abby!”
I jolted in place, twisting around to the sound of Daphne’s shrill voice. My friend was waving her arms at me, beckoning me back to the group. Sighing, I sipped on the tiny plastic straw as I made my way to the far corner of the room.
Welcome to The Crow, indeed.
Cooper
I ambled through the station the next day, yawning as I nodded a greeting to my office clerk, Faye.
It was a little after four p.m. and I’d slept away most of the afternoon.
I didn’t work the bar often, but when I did, I was always off my game the following day.
The noise, the drunken patrons, the cigarette smoke I could still smell on my skin despite a long, hot shower—it got to me.
“McAllister.”
My partner, James Walker, was leaning against the front of his desk.
“Hey.” I made a quick stop at the Keurig, perusing the coffee flavors with my back turned. “Anything on the Fisher case?”
“No, but there’s something else.”
I selected a breakfast blend. “Hit me.”
James joined me over by the coffee station, holding a flyer in his hand. He ran his fingers over the dark five o’clock shadow along his jawline and pursed his lips. “This just came through. A missing girl."
“Shit. We haven’t had one of those since those seniors got lost near the bay.” Fiddling with the Keurig machine, I added, “Elderly?”
“Nope. Only twenty-eight. Daphne Vaughn just called it in.”
The name snagged my attention, and my head shot up, a whisper of dread skittering across my skin. “What?”
James slapped the flyer down on the table and folded both arms across his wide chest. “She was last seen leaving your father’s bar last night.”
My blood ran cold when I glanced at the missing person flyer. I picked it up and scanned the familiar face, my stomach sinking to the tile floor.
Violet eyes peered back at me.
Haunted eyes.
Abigail Stone.