Wolf found a table in a shadowy corner in the back, with a full view of the room. She sat down, and then he did. The waitress showed up immediately. “What can I get for you?” she asked in a heavy Spanish accent.
“Brazos, if you have it on tap,” Wolf said, naming his favorite beer. Then he asked Camellia, “Two?”
“Quiero un whisky. Doble. Con hielo.”
The server smiled, but she made no comment as she left to get their drinks.
“So you speak Spanish,” he said.
“Badly. No doubt to our server’s amusement, but I like to practice with real people when I can.”
Wolf leaned back in his seat and said, “Have you seen any sign of him?”
Camellia had been scanning the patrons since they’d sat down. He’d taken a quick survey himself. The guys on the barstools along the front of it were regulars, he’d bet. They chatted and called the bartender by name. The rest of the folks at tables and the pair at the pool table seemed harmless. He watched her big eyes sweep the place, then she gave a nod, and her body seemed to lose a little of its stiffness.
Their server came back with their drinks. When she set Camellia’s down, she said, “Estoy aquí hasta las diez si me necesitas.”Then she slipped away with a narrow look at Wolf that he felt clear to his toes.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“She’s on until ten if I need her,” she replied. “I wonder why she?—”
“She thinks it’s me,” he said, when she was out of earshot.
“She thinks what’s you?”
“She can see you’re scared and nervous, and I’m the nearest guy to you, so?—”
“Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Wolf.”
“It’s all right. Hell, it’s fine. If I had a sister and she walked into a bar with some guy looking scared as hell, I’d want her server to look out for her.”
“It’s not my intention to be so obvious. Or so scared.” She tried to school her face, but in doing it frowned so hard it made him smile. Then she rolled her eyes, took a mighty slug from her glass of whiskey on the rocks, and coughed most of it back out again. “Hooo—that’s strong!” She mopped up the table with a napkin, then took a more moderate sip.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
“No. I really don’t.”
“Okay. You want to eat some unhealthy bar food?”
“I do. Yes.”
He signaled the waitress and she gave them the sign for just a sec. Then Camellia said, “I used to have to watch for Earl everywhere I went. He’d just show up, at the drugstore or the gym. I’d see him lurking at the bank, or grocery store. He’d stand outside my apartment, under a streetlight to make sure I’d see him. He’d call and call. Every time I changed my number, he’d get it again. All hours of the night, he’d call and tell me the sick shit he was going to do to me one of these nights, to teach me a lesson. For leaving him, I guess.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I never knew whether he was just trying to terrify me or if he was going to really do it, really hurt me, you know?”
Wolf swore softly, sounding a little like his mom, he thought.
Camellia took another slug of the whiskey. Apparently, she’d got used to the burn, because it was bigger than the first one and she didn’t spew it back out this time.
“You didn’t tell me why you were calling,” she said. “Just came to the rescue like a unicorn.”
He frowned and wondered just how hard that whiskey was hitting her. “I was calling to ask why you weren’t,” he said. “Calling, that is.”
“Oh?” She blushed a little. “But we both said neither of us were looking for?—”
“About the case.” Damn, he’d messed that up, and now she was embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to do that. So he added, “And I don’t know, I kind of missed your smiling face. You should’ve brought it along.”
She smiled with her mouth only, and sarcastically at that.
He shook his head and said, “Not even close.”
