26
Roman
Thebeerwascoldon my tongue, but it tasted more bitter than usual. The tall glass thumped onto the tabletop a little too hard. Shawn stared at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw.
“What?” I snapped.
He blinked and shook his head. “Nothing.” He glanced at Nolan, who sat next to him. “It’s just I’ve never seen you drink so fast.”
Nolan cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything before taking a swig of his own beer.
I grunted and looked away. The bar was only about half full tonight. Callie’s Tavern was popular in town, but it wasn’t too late yet and there was no entertainment scheduled. I didn’t usually spend my time here, but where else was I going to go? The house was too empty. I had no desire to go there after work.
I hadn’t been able to sleep last night after I got back home. So many thoughts had run through my head that it was impossible to turn off my brain.
The memory of Palmer flashed through my mind: the sight of the tears streaming down her cheeks, making her freckles glimmer in the moonlight.
Her words still didn’t make sense to me.
I’d saved her?
I’d tried to reach back to that night, but it had been so long ago. Everything was a blur of grief and adrenaline. I’d spent years actively keeping my brain from revisiting that day, which was both the worst and best of my life, and I’d blocked so much of it out.
How could Palmer have been in that fire that night?
I wanted to remember, but I also didn’t. There were multiple people who had been saved from that building. The reality that I had saved her specifically was hard to accept.
Because if the woman I had just kissed was the same woman I pulled out of a burning building the night my wife died…I didn’t even know what to think about that.
“Tell me again why we’re meeting the detective here?” I asked Nolan.
The only thing getting me through was focusing on something else. Anything else. And I’d wanted to meet with Detective Whize since the fire at Hearthstone.
Nolan smoothed a thumb over the label of his beer bottle. “It was his idea, not mine. He’s been swamped since Amos Anderson’s escape, and the arsons aren’t helping. I think he’s squeezing this in after his shift. Maybe a cold beer sounded good.”
I shrugged. It didn’t really matter. My beer was almost gone and I had every intention of getting another, but I wouldn’t until I spoke with Whize. He was late, which made me irritated. I’d been on edge all day.
As if I’d summoned him, the detective’s voice met my ears. “Sorry, got tied up at the station.”
Detective Whize stood near the end of the booth. He seemed tired, with his rumpled dress shirt and bags under his eyes. He held a pint glass that was already missing half an inch off the top.
I scooted over to allow him to slide in beside me.
He sighed as he sat and leaned his head back against the booth. “Thanks for meeting with me like this,” he said. “I just needed something a little more casual, and damn”—he took a swig of his beer—“I needed a drink.”
Shawn chuckled. “Yup, Ember Hollow has been crazy the last few months. Ain’t no one here blaming you.”
I drained the last of my beer. “I’m just glad you’re meeting with me,” I said. “Thanks for taking the time.”
I sounded completely pleasant, but I didn’t smile. I wasn’t sure my mouth remembered how.
Whize turned to me. “I’m sorry about Hearthstone.”
I clenched my back teeth.
“We’re doing everything we can to try to find the guy,” Whize continued. “Your brother sent me over the footage, but as you probably already know, it isn’t clear who the man is.”
“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.” I shifted on the uncomfortable booth seat. “We’ve made a possible connection that I wanted to run by you.”
