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All.
“Yeah,” he says, slowly, cautiously. “That’s commendable, Higham, but I don’t think you’re getting away with it.”
“Getting away with what?” I ask. What’s the fucker done?
James’s lips straighten, and he clicks it to loudspeaker. What’s with that expression? “Tell him, Higham.”
Higham sighs. Tired. “They’ve found a body in the woods off the interstate freeway. Late twenties. Blonde. Time of death estimated to be roughly six months ago. Cause of death, bullet wound.”
I fall back against the wall. Fuck, no. But . . . is it her? “Formally identified?”
“Not formally. I’m sending you an image.”
My phone dings, and I look down at the message from Higham, wincing at the decaying face.
“Ex-whore at Casa Black, yes?” Higham goes on. “Who went on to date Tom Hayley, who was running for mayor before he was murdered. Know anything about her death, Danny? Because it stinks of The Brit.”
I laugh to myself. What, because I used to fuck Amber? And actually, it stinks of The Brit’s wife. “I need to see you, Higham.”
“Thought you might say that.”
“I’ll call you.” Jesus Christ. Today needs to just fuck off.
17
PEARL
* * *
I watch as Brad, Danny, James, and Nolan all appear from the corridor that leads to the offices. Danny, James, and Nolan head to the booth where the others are. Brad heads to Allison. I return my attention to the bar. I wouldn’t be here through choice, but when a big hairy Viking tells you to get in the car, you get in the car. I doubt Brad orchestrated this encounter, as things seem too tense for him to play stupid games. So . . . she was here anyway. Last night, now tonight too. She knows where he lives and works. I’m surprised. And ignoring the sting.
I fiddle with the coaster. “Hey, sorry, it’s busy tonight,” Anya says, leaning over the bar in front of me. “Want a drink?”
“Yes,” I say, with not much thought at all. “Yes, I want a drink.” Bring me all the drinks. “I’ll have a vodka tonic. Easy on the tonic.” Anya dances off to get my drink, and I put my head in my hands. What the hell am I going to do?
“Hey.” Beau pulls at my wrist. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” I smile lamely and accept my drink, taking a good healthy glug, squeezing my eyes shut, blowing out my cheeks. She really did go easy on the tonic.
“Did you check her ID?” Brad asks Anya as he passes.
I grit my teeth as Anya rolls her eyes. Beau spins on her stool and glares at him. “Fuck off, Brad.” She took the words right out of my mouth.
“Pregnancy’s making you feisty.”
“God, you’re a dick.” Beau swivels back. “I don’t like him right now.”
“Me neither,” I muse.
“Mind if I join you?”
I drop my eyes to my glass. I don’t want to look. I can already sense the awkwardness coming from Beau. I don’t want people to feel like this around me. Around Brad and me. And now around Allison and me. God, and they don’t know the half of it. But whatever they think they know, I need to squash it.
I pull a smile out of the bag and swivel on my stool. “Sure, have a seat.” I reach back and pull the next stool closer. “Would you like a drink?”
Allison sits and rests her handbag on her lap, smiling. I can feel Beau eyeing me. “I’ll have an Aperol Spritz, please.”
“Anya,” I call. “An Aperol Spritz for Allison, when you’re ready.” I slurp back my drink, wincing at the strength again. I’m in a sea of predicaments, struggling to swim. But really, Brad is the least of my worries. The call from the unknown number has shaken me. How did he get my number? “You look lovely,” I say, taking another sip, swallowing hard, blinking. Allison looks no different to the perfect woman I saw this morning.
