Chapter 20
I lock up the pool house and head to the main one via the back patio doors. I can see Fiona on the couch, looking at her phone, and knock slightly even as I unlock the door and step inside. I don’t want to startle her.
“Hey, the girls are asleep.” She sets her phone down on the side table, then looks at the door to her dad’s bedroom right off the living room. “Dad was being weird earlier, right?” she whispers.
I sit next to her and nod. Before I can say anything else, he steps out of his room, still fully dressed. It’s only nine o’clock, but he looks like he’s going out.
“Oh, hey, I’m glad you’re here. I was going to call. I’ve got to run a quick errand. Can you stay here with the girls?”
“Of course.”
“I can watch the girls,” Fiona adds.
“I know, honey, I just want your aunt here too.” He doesn’t make any small talk as he grabs his keys from the kitchen, then leaves.
“He never leaves this late unless it’s for work.” Fiona rolls her eyes and stretches out on the couch. “No way is he running errands.”
I don’t think him leaving is about work, but decide to keep that to myself. “Do you mind if I head out and check on something?”
She sits up straighter. “Is it about…”
I nod, not about to tell her that I’m going to follow her dad.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Promise you’ll set the alarm and call 911 immediately if anything weird happens.”
“Yeah, I know, of course.” She gives me an eye roll now, which is to be expected.
Instead of driving Cara’s car, I grab mine (which thankfully Fallon or someone dropped off) and pull up my tracking app. I’ve got a handful of trackers set up, including Ethan’s. (And now I’ve got one on Fiona’s car after she ran off earlier.)
For some reason, I’m not surprised that the farther I drive, the clearer it is that he’s heading to that sports bar owned by Orson Hall. It’s not like it’s in the middle of nowhere, but it’s in an industrial area and there isn’t much open after six o’clock in that part of town.
As I park at a closed laundromat across the street, I think what a far cry this is from Ethan’s posh neighborhood. I pull out my binoculars to get a better view of people coming and going. After ten minutes of watching, it’s mostly single guys or couples carrying pool cue cases.
No Ethan, though his car is in the parking lot so he must have gone inside already.
As I debate whether I should go inside or not, my car dies, sputtering a sad choking breath before…
nothing. “Are you kidding me?” I try to start it, but it doesn’t make a sound other than a click.
So it’s either the battery or my car finally gave up the good fight.
I just replaced the battery, so… Well, this makes the decision for me.
Guess I’ll be driving Cara’s vehicle from now on.
I feel like my car dying is the sign I need to move into action.
I slide into the back seat and unzip the duffel bag I almost always carry with me.
I move fast, tugging on a light brown wig that falls in a bob around my face, slide on glasses, and change into a button-down green and blue flannel-type shirt instead of my Christmas sweater.
Then I pull on a beat-up leather jacket and toque.
When I step inside the bar I keep my face tilted slightly downward as I take in everything.
Big-screen TVs on the wall behind the bar, an area with pool tables that’s already full, and a couple rows of booths for people just eating.
Plus a bunch of high-tops in the bar area.
A typical sports bar, then. And no sign of Ethan.
I head up to the bar since it’s also got a panel of mirrors I can use to check people out.
“What’ll you have?” The guy behind the bar looks bored as he approaches with a menu.
“Coke and…” I quickly scan the menu. “And your nachos. Hold the olives.” I’m not hungry and I don’t like soda in general, but since I’m sitting at the bar I can’t order a water. And I definitely can’t order alcohol, even though I contemplate it to blend in better.
But that’s just an excuse and I know it. Right now I can’t afford to make a stupid decision. Placing a vodka tonic in front of me is just asking for trouble.
The guy sort of grunts, but puts my order in the computer. After he brings me my drink, I’m surprised when he lingers for a minute. “Haven’t seen you in before.”
“I haven’t been here before.” I give him a smile that’s made far too many men drop their guard.
Not that I’m a bombshell or anything, but men can be dumb when it comes to a pretty face and a smile.
“I’m visiting my brother and his family for Christmas and needed a break from all the hot cocoa and matching sweaters,” I say with a laugh.
When lying, it helps to stick close enough to the truth that things sound natural—and it makes it easier to remember your lies.
The guy snorts and nods as if in agreement. “I hear that.”
He leaves me alone after our light exchange and it gives me a chance to check out the bar itself. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary except the security cameras—they’re seriously high-tech.
Which makes sense if the owner is a loan shark.
“Hey, Frank, I’m taking one.” A young guy reaches over the bar and plucks a beer from one of the wells.
He’s wearing orange lounge-style pants and a thick puffer jacket with a hoodie. I go still for a moment, but then glance away, watching the guy in the mirror as he strides back to one of the high-tops.
I didn’t see the guy who shot at me yesterday after the memorial, but I recognize the jacket. It’s got a green and orange stripe running around the bottom edge.
And yeah, it could be a common jacket for all I know. But I don’t believe in coincidence. Some asshole wearing that jacket shoots at me, and now Ethan has come to this bar?
Foxe didn’t find anything weird in his financials (she checked hard) but clearly we’re missing something. And where the hell is Ethan?
I glance at Puffer Jacket a couple times as I work through the nachos before he disappears down a hallway. I notice the bartender watching me and wonder if I’ve been too obvious. I don’t think so, but this “case” has me messed up.
“Bathroom?” I ask.
He nods at the hallway that Puffer Jacket went down.
There are two doors for bathrooms at the front of the hallway, but two more closed doors after that, and one clearly marked EXIT.
Once I pretend to use the bathroom and wash my hands, I pay my bill and head back outside into the cool air. I prefer the crisp night to the chaotic blend of music, voices and pool balls clacking together.
I pull out my phone as I debate my next move. I need to either call for a car, or Alex. She’ll be annoyed at me for coming here on my own, but will probably get here quicker.
As I tap the rideshare app, I hear something in the distance.
Like a muffled cry on the wind.
There’s no one in the parking lot so I jog around the side of the restaurant and stop at the edge when I hear voices, including one I recognize.
“I’ve got your money. It’s just going to take a couple more weeks. These things don’t move fast. Your boss knows I’m good for it.” Ethan sounds desperate.
“I think you need an incentive.” There’s a thudding sound, then a groan.
Adrenaline surging, I peer around the corner and see Ethan on the ground, with Vincento the Tank standing over him.
Shit.
Without pausing, I race back to my car.