The Last Innocent

by Rebekah Strong

  Luke had a vague plan to circle around and get back out to the main part of the city. River Street wasn’t all that interesting except for the view, and he still had over half the squares to hit. Although he wasn’t sure how many more he’d see if he kept drinking at this rate.

  He thought about driving back to Atlanta in the morning. He’d been away for a while and things at home could use some attention. None of it seemed important at that moment, and an empty apartment sounded like torture, so he decided to stay. This place was better than the ATL, and there had to be some single women somewhere in this city.

  Ahead, past a bank of windows with reeded glass, an alley cut into the bowels of the building. A dim gas lantern flickered at the end and Luke saw a sandwich board with the pub name worn off. It had one happy hour special written in unreadable chalk scrawl. The rest of the squares would have to wait, he decided as he headed in.

  Inside Luke felt the sweat on his forehead dry. The heavy walled, low ceilinged room stayed comfortable despite the windows flung open to the warm day. A breeze off the water blended with slow ceiling fans making it feel cool despite the lack of AC. The late afternoon sun blazed off the water, but in here it was dark and cool. His kind of place.

  His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted by the time he made it to the bar. He took a seat on the far end so the door was in view. Out of habit he studied the clientele. Three people sat at the bar and two booths were occupied. It was a quarter past five and the place wasn’t busy yet.

  Behind the scuffed bar, a white-haired man in a tacky Hawaiian shirt and apron talked to a woman sitting in the middle of the bar. She hunched over a glass staring into it. It took a moment before the old barkeep sauntered over to him.

  “What can I get ya,” he asked with a thick Irish accent that caught Luke off guard.

  “Ah. A beer, please. Whatever you’ve got that’s dark.”

  The old man nodded. Then Luke changed his mind. He felt like he had made friends with the city today, so he decided to tear a page out of her playbook and let it all hang out. “You know what? Fuck it. Give me a whiskey.”

  “Haha, good lad,” grunted the old man, pleased at the change of order.

  By now Luke’s vision had adjusted to the darkness. He saw the woman look up from her glass. He glanced at her and did a double-take. There was no mistaking the blond hair covering the side of her face like she was trying to hide behind it.

  Tully Meara sat at the center of the long bar paying no attention to two male patrons eyeing her from their end. She wore the same clothes he’d seen her in at the station and was having a very bad day from the way her shoulders bowed. When he spoke, her head jerked up and snapped in his direction. In the dim light, it looked like fear on her face.

  That was his fault. What was he thinking when he went there? He should listen to Thad more often. The kid had good instincts. Not that either of them could have predicted her. Seeing her sit there slumped over made him feel especially bad. He wanted to make it right.

  Luke saw a muscle twitch in her neck. She swung her knees away desperate to turn her back. Southern breeding prevented her from being too rude, and she ended up looking straight ahead. He slid off his stool and approached her.

  “Of all the gin joints, right?” He sat and smiled hoping it would have the effect it usually had on women.

  “Thfuck do you want?” She rounded on him.

  So much for southern breeding.

  “Are you following me?”

  “No, I…”

  “Why are you here?” She demanded, swiveling her seat so she could get in his face.

  “I saw you and, um, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t… You’re not hurt are you?”

  “You come to my station and accuse my dead partner of being crooked, and you’re worried about hurting me? That’s what’s keeping you up at night?” She slurred her words a little. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t let him. “Save your apology.”

  “I’m not apologizing.”

  She glared at him.

  “Not for that, anyway. You were about to a punch federal agent for god’s sake. Did you think I was going to let you? I wanted to make sure you’re not hurt.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I’ll take that as a no. And you’re wrong, Tully.” He watched the muscle spasm again when he said her name. “I wasn’t accusing your partner of…anything.” He nearly said, “accuse your partner of murder,” because he was buzzing, and his mind couldn’t keep up with his mouth.

  “But I should have handled it differently,” he admitted. “For that I am sorry. I get carried away sometimes. Bad habit. I knew Cummings was a scumbag, but I should have been a little more…”

  “Yeah. Yeah, you should have,” she said, locking those brilliant blue eyes onto him.

  The second he met her it was clear she wasn’t capable of halfway, even when she wasn’t punching someone. But the quiet pub and peaceful river backlit the chaotic passion oozing from every word. At her angry outburst, the men that were eyeing her suddenly became interested in their beer. Luke wanted more.

  “Please believe me, the last thing I would do is smear a fellow law enforcement officer without concrete evidence,” he said.

  “I should hope so.” She turned back to her drink.

  “My partner was right. We were just there to get some questions answered. It was me that got carried away. I overplayed it. If you still need to pummel someone it should be me.”

  “Overplayed? Is that what you were doing?” The apology must have worked. Her anger had subsided. Now she sounded annoyed.

  She cupped her glass with both hands. “It doesn’t matter. Everybody’s moved on anyway. People barely remember that a cop died two weeks ago. They’re all back to their comfortable lives. You showing up is….”

  “People care more than you think,” he cut her off softly, placing a hand on the back of her stool.

  A stiff gust of wind whipped through the windows and flipped her hair. A strand snagged on her eyelash. Luke’s hand twitched as he stopped himself from brushing it back.

  The old bartender had been hovering nearby watching the two of them. His demeanor toward Luke became much cooler after Tully’s initial reaction. He slammed down an empty glass in front of Luke but didn’t fill it. Luke was sure he was about to get kicked out when Tully called him off.

  “It’s okay, Only.”

  “Sure, Love?” The old man eyed Luke up and down like he could take him.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Alright, Love.” With a withering glare, Only poured the glass half full of Jack Daniels and shoved it toward Luke. Luke picked it up, hoisted it in the air to thank him, then downed it. The burn felt good.

  He turned back to Tully. “I swear I didn’t know this was your watering hole. I happened to run across it.”

  “Right. Look, I don’t know if I should even be talking to you.”

  “Oh, we definitely shouldn’t be talking.” He grinned at her and this time it worked. She parted with a tiny smile. “Can I buy your next one?”

  She thought for a second. “That’s a bad idea.”

  “God, I love those.” He motioned for a refill. “What are you drinking?”

  “Same.” She indicated his glass.

  “Two then,” he said as the old man scowled, but refilled their glasses. Luke twirled the brown liquid so it coated his glass in dripping ribbons. “Listen, I really am sorry about earlier. That…whole thing was messed up and it was my fault. I can never seem to get what I want without being a jerk.”

  He meant to make her laugh. Instead, the tortured look on her face grew. Suddenly she remembered the glass in her hand. She put it to her lips and Luke watched her kill it in a single gulp.

  “Wow. You should probably slow down. You’re kinda small to be throwing that much liquor back.”

  “I can drink you under this bar, G-man.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow. “I believe it.”

  She slammed
the glass down. “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to see…”

  “No. What do you want? Why did you come over here?”

  Luke studied her face without answering. She could handle herself in a fight, that was abundantly clear. Even she could tell he wasn’t worried that he hurt her. He just didn’t know what else to say.

  “He was a good man.” Tully’s look was pleading. He nodded so she would keep talking. “I’ve never met a better officer or family man.” She blinked and the strand fluttered. Luke’s hand twitched again.

  “They just had a baby, you know. He and Melissa were married for six years, and they tried to have Katy for five.” She gave a little laugh and hiccupped. “I couldn’t get him to sit still for a week after they found out.”

  Luke turned away and focused on the rows of bottles behind the bar. The timing of the shooting was too perfect to be a coincidence, but he didn’t have the courage to say it to her face. That the man she respected so much was probably involved in some very bad things. She wanted to hear him say that he believed her partner had been nothing but the upstanding man everyone thought he was.

  It was the look. He’d seen that look from friends and families of the men he’d put away, the day they learned betrayal doesn’t come from a stranger. She never saw it coming. Good people who love bad men rarely do. The agony on her face in that conference room cut deep.

  Now he endured it a second time, inches away listening to her talk about her partner. The pain mimicked her soft southern accent, stretching and wrapping itself around each slow vowel. Only appeared and their drinks refilled. Like any bartender worth his salt, the old man was a firm believer in liquid therapy.

  He wanted to say that this whole thing was screwed up, and he was sorry he made her sad, and would she come home with him. “I’m sorry,” was all that came out.

  She said nothing, and Luke shook his head. “Why would he go to the station after he came to me and claimed he’s afraid for his life? And with a gun. It doesn’t make sense. Is he known to carry one?”

  Tully shook her head.

  “And the camera footage…” he saw her stiffen, “he was looking for someone. Maybe it was bad timing,” he finished.

  “You know,” she twisted her fingers together, “if you showed up and asked me about anyone else in this town, you would have me wondering too. But not Pete.” She shook her head again. “Not him.”

  “Do you think Cummings really had anything?”

  “Maybe. Or more likely he was spinnin’ a yarn. He knew how the public snaps to when people start spouting off at the mouth. Nobody can resist a crooked cop theory. He knew it well. That shit sells.”

  Luke leaned back. “He never mentioned a cop. We never would have met if your partner was still alive.”

  She looked at him, surprise evident on her face. Then shook it off. “Trust me, you’ll find a dead Nick Cummings works out for the best. It’s a defense attorney’s wet dream to see someone like him on a witness roster. Any case you cobble together on his back is over before the prelim, my friend.”

  “Of course it is,” said Luke as he rubbed his face. Like everything else in this dead-end he called an investigation. At least it wasn’t a total loss. Her anger was subsiding at the same rate she threw back whiskey. The fact that she wasn’t yelling felt like a victory. He dropped his hands when he realized she was studying him. “Where does this leave us?”

  She smirked. “Us? I think you mean ‘where does this leave you’. And with Nick Cummings as a lead, it leaves you with precisely dick.”

  The strand of hair had worked its way loose from her eyelash and rested on her cheek. Luke surrendered and brushed her hair back. “That’s not what I meant.”

  She flinched and a hand flew to her scarred cheek. Flustered she dug her hair out from behind her ear and smoothed it back over her cheek. “What?”

  “You forgive me?”

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Tully, I…”

  She turned back to her glass. “I’m not gonna be your little snitch, G-man. Pete was my friend, and he was a good man. Don’t insult me.” She was slurring more now.

  That’s not what he’d been thinking. Not even close. He was thinking about the way her lips parted when she was mad like she needed more oxygen to fuel the fire. He was thinking about taking her clothes off and feeling her hot skin next to his. He was thinking about how much he didn’t want to be alone.

  “No. That’s not….” Luke stopped. He was already at three whiskeys, the usual point his judgment took a detour to Shitsville. Taking her back to his hotel was a terrible idea. Especially when she was drunker than him.

  “Not what?” Her eyes bore into him, cloudy but still accusing. “Not why you came here? Why are you here then?”

  He needed to get a handle on this. “I should go,” said Luke realizing the glass he emptied was full again. He swallowed it and reached for his wallet. “You were right. This is a bad idea.”

  “No.” She grabbed his hand. “You can’t come in here then just leave. You have to tell me what’s going on.” In her drunken state, she twisted too hard and made him wince, but she didn’t notice.

  “It’s a routine investigation.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, a little too loud. “Why are you asking about Pete. Why?” That familiar passion radiated. Or was it desperation? She leaned in, twisting his arm further. “What do you know?”

  “Ow,” he said, trying to right his arm.

  “Oh sorry.” She released him but continued to lean in. “What do you know?”

  All she needed to do was lean in another inch to make him tell her everything. A hint of cleavage peeked out from her V-neck, and she was so close he could hear every rustle of her clothing. Luke turned to the bar to put some space between them. “Nothing,” he said, defeated. It wasn’t a lie.

  It seemed to satisfy her. “You’re wrong, you know. You’re so wrong.”

  Luke gave a noncommittal nod and waived off Only, who was about to refill the glasses. “I think maybe we should switch to beer, huh? Something a little lighter?” Tully pulled a face but didn’t argue.

  The whiskey did its job, and the conversation became easier. Luke told her about Atlanta and the blackmail scam. He left out the part about the murdered reporter, the soldiers, and the hitman. He wasn’t ready to tell her that. The night was going too well. As they talked, darkness gathered, and the pub began to fill up with its usual night crowd.

  A car sped down River Street too fast. It seemed to jerk Tully back to the present. She looked out the window at the dark street, then around the bustling bar in surprise. She checked her watch. “It’s ten?”

  “So?”

  “We’ve been here for five hours?”

  “You have somewhere to be?”

  “Um, n…yeah.” She started digging through her pockets.

  “I got it.” Luke cut her off and slapped a hundred down on the bar.

  She staggered a little as she slid off her stool. He reached for her, but she had already righted herself. Luke was impressed. As much alcohol as she consumed, she should be on the floor.

  “Bye, Only. I’m going home,” she called to the old man. He was at the far end of the bar.

  “Lemme call ya cab, Love.” He reached for the phone sitting next to the polaroids of people banned from the pub.

  “I’m good.” She blew him a drunken kiss.

  “I’ll make sure she gets home,” Luke told the Irishman who scowled. Luke wrapped his arm around Tully’s waist, returning the glare. They walked out the door. Only turned and picked up the phone anyway.

  “I don’t neejour help,” Tully slurred and yanked herself out of Luke's embrace once they were outside. To avoid a scene, she waited until they left to push him away. Luke smiled. She was nicer drunk than sober.

  “I bet you don’t,” he said.

  “Duz that mean?”

  “You make this trip a lot in this condition?”

&nb
sp; “Fuck you, Marshall. You think you can jusshow up in my town and start judging everyone. And I’m s’posed to be fine with it because you’re…” she stopped as he looked down at her and gave her a little smirk. “FBI,” she finished lamely, then burped.

  Like him, over the past several hours she had a hard time hiding her interest. She would realize she was staring only after he caught her, then look away pretending she was interested in something else. She got worse at it the more she drank.

  Tully whirled and walked toward the steps to Bay Street. She went first, hanging onto the handrail to help herself up. Behind her, Luke didn’t have to hide that he was admiring her well-formed ass ripple in tight jeans. Luke forgot everything but the scent of her perfume, he was so tuned in to her. He swallowed hard as the carnal thoughts barged into his mind again.

  At the top, she turned right, and they crossed over Bay Street at the next light. Her pace quickened, and it was obvious she knew where she was going. Maybe she would decide for both of them and take him home. He wasn’t sure, and she said nothing so he kept following.

  Soon they crossed a quiet street and the largest park, Forsythe Park, spread out in front of them. Ahead he could see the centerpiece fountain of Forsythe Park. The circular path around the fountain was lined with benches. Only two were occupied.

  Tully walked up to the wrought iron fence around the fountain and propped her elbows on it. Her movements were fluid and natural like she stopped there all the time. Probably a habit on her way home drunk from the bar. Luke stood beside her feeling the cool spray on his face.

  She lowered her head. “Why is this happening? This can’t be happening.” She said it so softly he nearly missed it over the rushing water.

  Then it hit him. It felt like someone doused him in cold water. She wasn’t thinking about sleeping with him. She was thinking about his boneheaded questions and her partner. He wasn’t going to argue with her drunk. He wasn’t going to argue with her at all.

  Luke put a hand on her arm. When she didn’t fight, Luke reached around and gently turned her to face him. Either he moved in or pulled her too far because suddenly they were closer than he meant. Tully pulled away so their bodies didn’t touch, but she refused to look at him. Luke placed his hand under her jaw to lift her face when a door slammed nearby.