Chapter 36 #2
All too aware of my limbs, the lingering pain in my arm, and the gentle whoosh of my breath in and out, accompanied by the rise and fall of my chest, it took me several minutes to do as Lane asked.
But then, the present went hazy around me, my mind’s eye instead focused on the battered wooden door of a bar and the neon sign above that glowed like a beacon in the night, twisting to spell THE SWALLOW.
As if sensing the shift in me, Lane softly said, “First, I want you to immerse yourself in the scene. What do you hear, smell, see?”
My voice seemed to reach my own ears from a great distance as I replied.
“We haven’t gone in yet, but I can hear the bass of the music thumping and the overlapping voices of a lot of people.
Lainey moves ahead of me and opens the door, and I’m hit with a wave of sound.
Everything was muffled before, but now it’s loud.
As soon as I cross the threshold, I can smell stale beer and lingering cigarette smoke.
I thought smoking indoors was illegal?” I asked absently.
Distantly, I registered Lane’s chuckle. “It is, but the Swallow has been open for a long damn time. Now, what do you see?”
“People. Lots of people. How are we ever going to get to the bar through this?”
My mind seemed to flash at me, reminding me I’d had that same thought all those years ago.
“Can you tell me what you’re wearing?”
“You were there. You already know.”
“Humor me.”
“A red dress,” I said. “And black cowboy boots I’d bought that day.”
“What about Lainey?”
I described her denim skirt, white blouse, and matching boots—though hers were brown. We purposely purchased different colors so we could share them.
“Somehow, Lainey found us a table. In that sea of bodies, impossibly, no one had claimed it, so she did. I went to the bar and got our first round.”
“What were you drinking?”
“Vodka sodas, same as always.”
“Was this when you met Finn?”
“No. I got drinks after waiting for what seemed like hours, then went back to the table. Lainey and I stood there, sipping and taking in the scene.”
We were from the south, you know? Country bars weren’t uncharted territory for us, especially not when one of the biggest country stars of our generation happened to be from our same hometown.
But the vibe at the Swallow was…different.
No one made any effort to impress anyone else.
Back home, eyes would’ve followed us everywhere, accompanied by whispers of the shitty hand we’d been dealt with the loss of our parents.
But in Dusk Valley…no one knew us. No one gave a fuck who we were.
“When did you meet Finn?”
“The next time I went to the bar. I begged Lainey to go since I got the first round, but she insisted she was better suited to ‘protect the table.’” I chucked as I recalled her words. “I was on my way there when some guy touched my ass.”
“Tony Walters.”
I’d never learned the creep’s name, but it made sense Lane had.
“Finn and I chatted for a bit, then I headed back to my sister. When I got there, she told me she was leaving with the guy she’d just met.”
“Was that out of character for her?”
I snorted. “No. Lainey was the queen of one-night stands.”
Meanwhile, the only time I’d ever participated in one, the man had haunted me for seven years, re-entered my life unexpectedly, and I’d fallen in love with him.
Lainey, on the other hand, was the fuck-’em-and-leave-’em type.
“Let’s talk about this guy. He was tall, right?”
“By normal standards, maybe? Like to Aspen, yeah, he’d be considered tall.”
Aspen made a noise of protest but didn’t refute me.
“But not to you?” Lane asked.
“Lainey and I are five ten. This guy was maybe two inches taller than us.”
“What about the rest of him?”
“Brown hair, muscular build.”
“How muscular?”
“Like he used his hands for a living. Not as trim as Trey, but not as stacked as you.”
“Anything else? Eye color?”
“I never saw his face.”
I explained how he’d had his back turned to me when I arrived at the table. How he was chatting with some other guys, but I couldn’t remember anything about them.
“Any idea how old he was?”
“Not a clue,” I admitted. “But Lainey never mentioned he was older or anything, so I’d guess somewhere around our age.”
“Was he local?” Lane asked me.
“I don’t know that either.”
“How about the morning after? Did you have to pick her up?”
Jolting upright, I stared wide-eyed at Lane.
“He dropped her off.”
Sitting back against the couch, I pulled my knees to my chest and allowed my eyes to flutter closed again, squeezing them tightly shut, as though that would make my memory clearer.
“He drove a truck.”
“The same one that ran you off the road?”
I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t be certain. “Maybe?” It sounded more like a question than an answer. My eyes popped open again. “I remember a dark color. Black, maybe brown, maybe navy?”
“I don’t suppose you got a plate.” I glared. “Try,” he prodded.
Eyes fluttering closed again, I focused my mind’s eye on that truck. On the glow of its taillights, bright in the fresh dawn of a new day. The roads were deserted, and he’d pulled away so fast, kicking up dust from the motel lot.
“E,” I gasped. “But that’s it.”
“That’s amazing, Reagan. Truly.”
“Thanks.” I beamed, pleased by a job well done.
Lane didn’t look at me; his attention was focused wholly on scratching furtive notes in his spiral-bound pad.
When he finished, he got to his feet, closing his notebook and stuffing it into the pocket of his uniform shirt.
“Well, I think that’s everything. I’ll pass this new info onto Addie and start running down some leads myself. ”
“Keep us posted,” Aspen said.
Lane tipped an imaginary hat and left.
“I suppose I should head out too,” she said when he’d gone.
“You should stay. Crew is on shift, right?”
“Yeah, and I do hate being in that house alone. Especially now, with this stalker on the loose.”
“Stay for dinner.” I checked my watch. “Finn will be home any minute.”
“You sure?”
“Of course,” I insisted.
“Okay, fine. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me cook,” she said, glancing pointedly at my casted arm.
I laughed. “Deal.”
While she moved around our kitchen with the ease of someone who had likely done so before, we chatted about my sister’s case and the upcoming wedding. When Finn arrived home, we had a full spread of spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad on the table.
Over the food and a few glasses of wine, Aspen and I shared all of the new info with Finn. After that, conversation flowed easily until we realized how late it had gotten. Not wanting to take any chances with her safety, we convinced Aspen to stay in the guest room.
Once she was settled, Finn and I went through our own nighttime routines and got into bed ourselves, him drawing me tight against his chest and falling asleep almost instantly.
Sleep didn’t come as easily for me, but when it did, for the first time in months, I wasn’t plagued by nightmares of a creepy, abandoned farmhouse.