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Tears were snaking down her cheeks.
“And I knew if I took you from a public place, I’d forever steal your sense of security. Not that you have much time left. You took my life!” He pulled his gun and flailed it in the air, paused for a few seconds, the muzzle pointed at his temple.
She held her breath. “I’m sorry for what you suffered.”
“No!” he roared and put the end of the gun to her nose. “You don’t get to apologize. You are a liar! You just get to suffer and die! That’s the least of what you deserve!”
Katherine’s heart was pounding. She’d only lied about one thing in her entire life. She took a hard look at his face and studied the contours and his eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about him.
Was it possible…?
SIXTY
Amanda’s stomach growled in hungry protest, and Trent took them through the drive-thru for Petey’s Patties, Zoe’s favorite fast-food place. They each quickly ate a cheeseburger in the car, and then carried on to the East End Pirate.
She’d always thought it was an odd name for a bar but her best friend, Becky Tulson, had explained to her in the past why it wasn’t that strange. “Think about it. Captain Morgan rum. There’s a pirate standing right on the bottle.” Becky had given her this look like Amanda had lost her mind.
Unquestionably a dive bar and living up to its name, the East End Pirate was in the east end of Woodbridge. Its clientele would be sketchy people with things to hide. She and Trent wouldn’t be popular once they flashed their badges around.
Eighties rock music was thumping inside, the bass turned up to the point that it distorted the lyrics, but to a drunk person, it wouldn’t matter. They were all about the beat.
The place was practically empty, and they sat on stools at the counter.
The bartender came over to them. “What can I get ya?”
She lifted her badge, just enough that the gold shield would have winked at him. The bartender groaned and braced both his hands on the counter. His muscled biceps bulged from beneath the edge of his short sleeves, no tattoos.
“So much for anonymous tipline.”
Tingles laced down her arms. “You’re the one who called in about Lynnette Johnson?”
“Ah, yeah. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
This was an exciting turn of events, and he could provide them the break they’d been after. “We are here about Lynnette Johnson but not because we knew you called.”
“Oh. Well, is she all right? I haven’t seen her since Sunday.”
“Before I answer that, who are you?” she asked.
“Davis Dunlap. Owner of this fine establishment.”
“How do you know Lynnette?” She suspected this might be the dive bar that Barry Holden had mentioned.
“She worked here. Are you going to tell me if she’s okay?”
“I wish that I could. Lynnette was found murdered yesterday, gunshot to the back of her head.” As much as Amanda stuck to the facts, a splinter of sadness ran through her at the loss of life.
Davis clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything.
Despite his silence, it was clear this news upset him. “Were you and Lynnette close?”
“I’ve known her a long time. She used to go to Striving Minds school with my much younger half-sister. Obviously, that was years ago, but I’d often run into Lynnette and ended up offering her a job about six months ago.”
Amanda nodded. This was the dive bar that Barry told them about.
“What can you tell us about her boyfriend? We were just told he has brown eyes, brown hair, is in his late forties, with a snake tattoo on his left wrist. That sound right to you?” Trent inserted.
“It does.”
