Page 29 of Wild Escape

Her mother didn't say anything.

We stayed for a little while, and Daphne kept trying to break through. She brought up old memories and talked about good times they'd shared.

Nothing seemed to work.

When we left, I asked Daphne what the issue was. "She seems too young for early-onset dementia."

Daphne shrugged. “I’ve taken her to every specialist around. They've all written it off as cognitive decline." Daphne frowned. "She wasn't always like this. Six months ago, she was fine. Sharp and active."

"Did she suffer any head trauma?”

"She got into a small fender bender. The airbag deployed. She went to the hospital after that. Her hand was on the horn when the airbag blew and pushed her hand into her face. She broke her wrist and got a concussion. They did a CT scan, but there was no brain bleed. This didn't start until three months later. So I don't think it's related."

"Has she had a CT since?”

"Yes. She had a second CT scan after the accident, and everything was clean." Daphne frowned.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Luck of the draw, I guess. Freaks me out. You never know what’s waiting down the road for you.”

We exited the facility and made our way across the parking lot. I grabbed Daphne's door, and she slid into the seat. She held her hands out for me to place the cuffs on them again. Against my better judgment, I said, "If you promise not to give me any trouble, I'll leave them off for a little while longer.“

"I'll be a saint," she said with devilish eyes.

"I've done a few favors for you. Now it's time to come through with the goods."

"You got it. I promise, I'll deliver."

I gave her a skeptical look, then closed the door, hustled around to the driver’s side, and slid behind the wheel. I cranked up the Porsche, and we drove back to Oyster Avenue.

Daphne said that Dane liked to frequent the Iguana Lounge. It was a chill, old-school bar that played good music, had pool tables, and cozy couches. The drinks were stiff and reasonably priced. The bartender would laugh at you if you went in and asked for fruity cocktails.

The avenue was a little more crowded than when we left, and I had more trouble finding a place to park.

I escorted the vixen to the strip, and we strolled the sidewalk to the lounge. I grabbed the door for her, and we stepped inside and ambled up to the bar. I gave a look around, but didn't see Dane or Brock. It was still early in the evening. Things really didn't get happening around here till much later.

I texted JD and told him where I was. [Message me when you're finished, and I'll pick you up.]

I didn't hear back right away. It was too loud in the practice room.

The bartender approached. "Can I get you anything?"

“No, thank you," I said with a discreet display of my badge.

He looked at Daphne. "For you, ma'am?"

"She can have anything nonalcoholic,” I said.

"I've got nonalcoholic beer, wine, and the usual array of soft drinks."

"Come on," Daphne said to me. "One drink isn't gonna hurt anything. Live a little. You know you want to," she said in an inviting tone. A tone that had led many men to their doom or heartbreak.

I considered it.

"You’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb if you're not drinking in a place like this. Everyone's gonna make you for a cop."

"Do I care? Dane will spot you before he spots me." I looked around the bar. "We should find someplace less conspicuous," I said, nodding to a booth in the back.