Page 69 of Aftermath
Stone navigatedus to the High Tide Pub in minimal time. There was no doubt in my head the man was a genius, the only person I knew able to navigate these roads in record time. I would’ve found myself wandering up and down them until I happened upon the pub.
You’ve lived here three years. Get it together.
There were a few patrons inside when we arrived. My heart was already racing, and I recognized the interior of the place. Very little had changed in three years. There was the same smell of pub food and sticky alcohol, the dim lighting, the low music playing over the old speakers.
Stone led me to a high top table with two chairs. He pulled out mine before taking his own. I wasn’t sure who looked more anxious—myself or him. He kept glancing over to the bar with bottles of liquor lined behind it.
Shit.
I kicked myself, remembering what he told me. Stone didn’t drink. And now, because of me, we had to sit in the center of place revolved around drinking. I wasn’t sure what the story was, but I got the sense he didn’t stop drinking just because he chose to.
The waitress came over and asked if we wanted anything. Before I could answer to order just a water, Stone whispered, “What did you get that night?”
Instantly, I was transported back three years prior. I was pregnant, so I knew I didn’t drink any of the alcohol behind the bar.
“Can I do a club soda with lime?” I asked. “And a side of fries.”
She looked at Stone, waiting for his order, and he requested the same drink.
“Fries?” he said and eyed me.
“It was a pregnancy craving,” I admitted, and I watched his face fall a little, only for a second, before smiling gently at me.
“I’m here every step of the way,” he reminded me.
I took a deep breath while we waited quietly for the waitress to return. The pub wasn’t busy, and it didn’t take long before she carried over a basket of fries and our two drinks.
Stone scrolled through his phone while I nervously sipped. His eyes barely flicked up to me every few minutes.
“Now what?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.
“A colleague sent me information about this place,” he answered. “I didn’t have time to comb through it until now.”
“Anything helpful?” I asked, raising a brow.
The conversation helped. It distracted me from focusing on my surroundings, the way the place made my skin crawl.
“Not exactly,” Stone answered. “A few employees have prior records, but nothing that sticks out or fits the profile. It does help me at least whittle down who to consider, but I’m not fully eliminating anyone.”
I nodded. Seeing Stone actively working on the case outside of the small bubble we had formed in his rental had my heart beating a little harder.
Stop it, Len.
There was no doubt in my mind that if anyone could find the person responsible for all this, it would be him, but I couldn’t let the feelings growing inside me disrupt that.
“I should warn you, my colleague also found this,” he said and held up his phone screen for me to see.
When he flipped it, my breath caught in my throat. On the screen, staring directly at me, was a blown up version of the footage I had sent him. The keychain I’d been adamant about was now readable. I didn’t know what told me it was important, maybe it was instinct, but I knew there was a reason we had to read it. There were those three little words, staring right at me on the tag attached to a key inside whoever threatened me’s pocket.
High Tide Pub.
The same pub we sat in now.
I glanced around the room, as if I was going to be able to spot the keys out in the open. Tourists walked in the front door, wearing hats with BP embroidered on them. Waitresses hustled around the place, taking orders and cleaning tables. The longer we sat, the busier it became.
If they were truly keys to the pub, anyone could have them. It wasn’t exactly the damning evidence I hoped it was, but it did at least confirm we were starting in the right place.
“We should begin,” Stone said gently.
