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Not that she couldn’t use his insight, but because her ulterior motives were a little underhanded and disingenuous. Not her favorite traits, she thought, cruising along 101, the shops brightly lining the main artery cutting through Astoria.
She’d fallen for him three years earlier when they’d worked a case together, here in Astoria. He’d been separated from his wife then and the murder investigation had gone on for months. It had happened during those long nights of a stakeout, when they’d spent hours alone together, the night surrounding them as they’d sipped coffee in a car, or in the apartment across the street, trying to catch a view through the windows of the suspect’s house. That was when she’d fallen in love with him.
It had been stupid.
He’d been married; she’d known it.
And though he’d admitted to being separated, he’d never once said he planned on divorce.... She had fantasized, of course, even though she told herself now that she’d fought her attraction to him.
Had she?
Or was that just a lie she told herself to feel better about the whole doomed situation?
Tonight, she would unwind. For an hour or two. Tonight she’d put Violet Sperry’s homicide on the back burner and she would definitely stop thinking about Cade Ryder even though he was now, indeed, divorced. Had been for nearly a couple of years.
“Still off limits,” she reminded herself as she drove under the ramp to the Astoria-Megler Bridge, the tall, four-mile span that linked Oregon to Washington at the mouth of the river.
O’Callahan’s was located on the riverfront, tucked between a restaurant and bookstore in what had once been a series of warehouses and was now one big mall, a hodgepodge of stores on three levels.
She parked, locked the car, then dashed across the parking lot to the wide glass doors that were the main entrance. Inside reclaimed wood floors gleamed beneath industrial lights suspended near the exposed air ducts. She made her way down a short flight of stairs to the Irish bar and stepped inside, where the lighting was dim and the conversation humming. Customers lined the bar, where two bartenders poured drinks, chatted, and laughed in front of tall mirrored shelving holding dozens of gleaming bottles. Two flat-screen TVs were positioned overhead, a baseball game in progress.
Kayleigh spied Camille seated in an oversized booth in a rear corner. Wild streaked curls framed her heart-shaped face. She was sipping from a small copper cup, her lips a glossy pink. With her were three men and two women, heads bent over their drinks. Kayleigh took a step toward them, then stopped. Maybe this was a mistake. She could spend the next hours piecing together the case, follow up on . . . Oh, crap! One of the guys was Travis McVey.
Her ex.
The man she’d dated before stupidly falling for Cade.
Her heart sank.
Damn you, Camille.
A roar went up at the bar as one of the players cracked a line drive. Travis looked up, then over, his eyes finding Kayleigh. The back of her throat went dry.
They’d lived together six months.
And she’d walked out on him, never really explaining. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him she was in love with another man. In love with a married man. And a man who hadn’t felt the same, not that she’d known it at the time.
Camille, too, caught a glimpse of her and began waving frantically, motioning her over, chatting up her friends, all of whom looked in her direction.
Decision made.
* * *
Mercedes was glaring at Rachel again. “I’m just saying, it’s a pretty major coincidence that these murders are on the same date.”
“You’re right, a coincidence,” Nate said. “An ugly one, but nothing more. Geez, Mercy, you’re suspicious of the whole damned world.”
“That’s my job.”
“Then your job sucks.” He drained his glass as Reva reached the group.
Brit was on the verge of tears again. She flung a glance at Reva. “You got this?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Sniffling, Brit hurried into the dining area and scooped up her notes and tablet. “Look. Anything you all decide is fine with me.” Her gaze found Reva’s. “Just let me know. Text me.”
“What? No!” Lila had followed her to the table. “Brit, you can’t leave,” she said in a soothing voice. “We need you.”
