After she’d escorted the last customer to the door, she threw her hands over her face, and her body wracked from what appeared to be her sobbing. Mark tilted his head in confusion; she’d seemed so together only seconds earlier. But she had been putting on a show in front of her customers.
She dried her tears with a tissue that she pulled out of her apron and then lifted her phone to her ear. Within seconds, she was pacing the area behind the bar, stopping only when she opened the cash register. She shoved all the money inside a bank bag, and then continued her pacing. Mark could see that she was having an argument. She threw her free hand in the air as if disgusted with the person on the other end of the line and then glared down at the phone as if she’d lost the connection.
Stuffing the phone in her apron, she snatched her purse from under the counter and disappeared up the service steps that led to the upstairs portion of the restaurant, the area where he’d been in the office.
Mark waited a few minutes, noticing how ghostly-looking the bar was without people. The plants swayed lightly as they had done the other night when a train had passed.
He stopped the tape.
If the train had already passed, the man had already jumped, and he’d be dead. He rewound the tape, concentrating on the scenes from different camera angles. The kitchen and front door feeds were blank, so no sensors had been tripped. He watched the shed area overlooking the train tracks. The tape was moving, so the train’s approach must have tripped it because nothing moved or caught his eye. Just a barren field behind the building with a shed and a few buckets and bags of trash. He waited a few seconds, and then, there it was…the train. But nothing else appeared in the scene.
His eyes darted to the left-hand side of the screen after the train had passed. The plants swayed as he’d noticed before. After a few minutes, the bartender came down the stairs, her head lowered as if she were still upset. She made her way toward the front entrance, unlocked the door, turned off the lights, and then left the building.
Nothing changed in the four-square scene on his screen. He pressed fast-forward, but still nothing changed. And then the screen went blank where nothing had been recorded. He fast-forwarded until the end of the tape, but nothing else appeared, which was impossible.
There should have been something else on the tape even if Devin never stepped inside the bar before or after it closed. He should have seen himself, Townsend, and the forensic team. But they weren’t there.
The manager had given him the wrong one. This was not last night’s tape.
Chapter Seven
Deciding she’d ignore the detective’s message, Ashlyn went directly to work after school, stopping long enough to grab a double-shot latte from Starbucks so she wouldn’t fall asleep halfway through her shift. She’d call him in the middle of happy hour when the bar was buzzin’. That way it’d be too loud to hear, and she’d have to call him later. Preferably, after she pulled herself together.
When she got to work, she went straight to the ladies’ room. As she suspected, she had black circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She opened her makeup bag and dabbed a few dots of concealer under her eyes, touched up her face with some powder, and brushed a hint of blush over her cheeks to make her face appear cheerful and healthy, even if she wasn’t. Lastly, she dabbed on some lip gloss.
She appraised her perfectly flat belly, which would be round with life in a few months. How could she do this on her own? All her dreams. She might as well flush them down the toilet. Would Devin’s parents be interested in the child of the woman they didn’t even know existed? No. She couldn’t tell them. Right after they blamed her for their son’s death, they’d probably try to take her child. Her mother wouldn’t help. In fact, she’d chastise her for being irresponsible.
It wasn’t as if they hadn’t used protection; they did. It wasn’t her fault the condom broke. Even though Devin had said it was her fault because she should have been on the pill. The fact was she wasn’t on the pill because she didn’t sleep around. She’d never even been with another man. She’d waited until she found the one whom she’d thought could make her dreams come true. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Never again.
She placed her hand over her tummy. Never again, she recited to her unborn child. I will have you, and I’ll do it on my own. She didn’t need a man to make her dreams come true as Momma had always pounded into her brain. “I’ll make my dreams come true, dammit!” she said aloud, but then blanched when the door opened.
Ashlyn sucked in a breath and took a long look at her face in the mirror. I’ll graduate before the baby is born. I’ll start looking for a job now before I start showing, and I’ll make it happen, she said to herself this time.
She pushed open the door and stepped out, ready to work.
The daytime bartender glanced at her, but didn’t smile. Instead, a look of sadness washed over her face. “I’m so sorry,” Corrine said, walking toward her. “I could cover your shift if you need me.”
Ashlyn hung her head. “No. I’m fine. I have to work.”
Corrine bit her bottom lip. “Do you know why he did it?”
“No. But honestly, Corrine, I don’t feel like talking about this. And could you keep this on the down-low? You’re the only one who knows I was dating Devin. I’d rather not have the media harassing me.”
The tall brunette dragged her to the side and whispered in her ear. “Well, they’ll still probably harass you. Different agencies were here all day. When Steve kicked them out, they returned, but as customers. They’d sit and not say anything and then they would subtly start asking questions, usually right after a big tip. At least that part was nice.”
Ashlyn huffed out a breath. That was all she needed.
“Really, if you want me to work, I will.”
“No.” She inhaled another deep breath. “I’d just be home moping.”
“Okay, hun. Lemme know. I’ll cash out then.” Corrine stepped behind the bar and closed out her register.
Ashlyn spent the next few minutes putting on a happy face, answering all her regulars’ comments: Can you believe it? Did you know him? Wow, what would make a good-looking boy like that kill himself?
Yeah, she wondered. Why would he? Had she hit him harder than she thought? She shook off the feelings and made herself busy cutting fruit for the evening, twirling cocktail napkins, and checking her back-ups of juices and sour mixes.
“Hey, Ash,” Steve called to her from the end of the bar as she was half buried beneath the counter.
She pulled herself upright and walked toward him. “Yeah?”
He nudged her around the bar. “Did the detective call you?”
She gulped. “Um…yeah, but I was too busy with school. I’ll call him when I’m not busy.”
“Okay. Do you know why—”
“No!” she said too loudly. “Why would I have any idea?”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “Ash, I know you were seeing him.”
“Oh, God.” She dropped her head, wondering if he’d told the police.
“The detective who came by earlier asked for your number,” he continued.
She squeezed her eyes shut, silently praying that he hadn’t said anything to the police. “Did you tell him Devin and I were dating?”
“I said I suspected. Are you okay?”
She waved him off. “Fine. I have to work.” She walked behind the bar, attempting to push everything to the recesses of her mind. Of course, if she couldn’t do it in statistics, how would she do it in a job where she practically moved around like a robot? She turned around, as if in a daze, and noticed Steve hadn’t left. She narrowed her eyes at him. The last thing she needed was her boss to think she couldn’t handle her position.
“Okay,” Steve said. “I’m heading home, then. Call me if you need me to cover your shift.”
She definitely couldn’t afford to lose any shifts with a baby on the way. A baby. She shook the thoughts out of her head. Just concentrate on
work.
Corrine was right; the restaurant buzzed with business. And for a little while, she was able to push Devin out of her thoughts. Until a group of barely-legal college kids sitting in one of the booths in the bar area started hammering her for details, that is. She politely ignored their queries, and eventually, they stopped asking.
As she turned away from the students, she noticed another gentleman had taken residence at the table in the corner. Rarely did anyone sit there because it was dark. There were no windows, and supporting columns blocked the TV screens, so customers couldn’t watch whatever sport was in season. In fact, the only people who usually sat there were employees.
“Hello,” she said as she approached him, forcing a smile.
The man smiled in response as he closed his menu, and Ashlyn couldn’t help but notice her smile morphed into an authentic smile. He was cuter than cute and dressed impeccably.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just water—” He paused. “On second thought, do you know how to make a Lynchburg Lemonade?”
Another smile lifted her cheeks. “Of course. Would you like something to eat too? I noticed you were looking at the menu?”
“Can I eat here?” he asked.
“Sure. Most single men—” She peeked down at his hand. “I mean, most single diners eat at the bar.”
“I better eat then. I haven’t eaten anything all day. I’ll take the Depot burger, but no fries. Can you substitute a salad or vegetable?”
She laughed. “Yep. Let me guess, vinaigrette dressing?”
He nodded, and she glided off, shaking her hips a little more than necessary. And then she mentally wanted to slap herself. Hadn’t she told herself that she didn’t need to look for a man? Especially after what had happened to her last night. But this guy appeared perfect. His clothes screamed money or possibly just good taste. Even his stance demanded attention. And he was so cute. Shorter hair than she was accustomed, but the dark brown hair with a hint of curl set off his deep green eyes. Greener eyes than she’d ever imagined possible. His shoulders were wide, but he wasn’t bulky. She appreciated a man who kept his body in tiptop shape. And skipping the fries, but keeping the hamburger said that he didn’t deny himself what he wanted; he simply made choices and had self-discipline.
Ashlyn keyed his order into the computer and grabbed a salad out of the cooler, along with a ramekin of vinaigrette on the side. She delivered the salad to his table, then reached behind the bar for her basket of rolled silverware and condiments. She set the items on the table. “I’ll be right back with your drink,” she said.
Normal servers would get a customer’s drink order first. But when she was out of the bar area, taking food orders, it was easier to get it all at once. Otherwise, she’d be stuck behind the bar. After making the Jack Daniel’s style lemonade and setting it in front of the handsome stranger, she remembered she needed to call the detective. She’d call his office number. That way, maybe he’d be gone for the day. She took out her phone and searched for the number she’d saved so she would know if he called again.
The call went directly to voicemail. She stooped down behind the bar as if she were reaching for something and cupped her hand over the phone to mask her words. “Detective Waters, this is Ashlyn Allan. I had school, and now I’m at work, so I’ll call you tomorrow.” She clicked end before she could say anything stupid. Her best bet was to act as if she had nothing to hide.
She straightened her body, smoothed her apron, and shot a glance around the bar. The good-looking man at her table was watching her. Feeling paranoid for no reason, she smiled and hurried to see if she could help anyone else.
Chapter Eight
Mark watched as Ashlyn flitted around the bar, doing everything she could to avoid eye contact with him, it seemed. Had she known he was the man she’d called, he wondered. She couldn’t have. When she’d returned her eyes to him, though, her eyes had darted away as if flustered. He’d caught her comment and glance at his left hand when he’d asked about food. He didn’t know how he felt about a woman flirting with a man the night after her boyfriend committed suicide, but then again, she flirted for a living. Her job counted on her being good at what she did, but it also required that she be friendly and flirty.
Unfortunately for him, as he’d suspected earlier, Ashlyn was an absolute knockout. And he’d been correct about the hair too. Just a hint of strawberry tint in those long blond curls, that for some reason he had an overwhelming desire to run his fingers through.
Forcing his mind to the current situation, as he always did, his thoughts returned to his jumper. Why would a twenty-five-year-old man, who he’d now verified had no money issues, a job waiting as Daddy’s CEO next month, and a hot girlfriend to boot, jump in front of a train? And Ashlyn wasn’t a big enough girl to have pushed him. Burke was six-two and one-ninety according to the coroner. Ashlyn couldn’t be more than five-six and a hundred twenty pounds fully dressed. He shook his head as he imagined her body without being fully dressed.
Ashlyn stepped to the table with a plate in her hand. “I went ahead and gave you a baked potato with your burger. It was all lonely by itself.” She set his dinner in front of him. “Can I get you anything else?”
Lonely indeed, he thought, still attempting to remove Ashlyn’s naked image, which was now keeping him company. “A-1 and one more of these, please.” He pointed to his drink.
She nodded and strolled behind the bar, returning a few seconds later with the bottle of steak sauce and another spiked lemonade. “Enjoy. Holler if you need anything else.”
He smiled as he watched her walk away, a nice view. As he ate, he observed everything she did. She stayed busy, but the few times she had downtime, he saw her fall into a trance, and even watched her wipe away a tear. So she wasn’t heartless; she was merely trying to work through the pain. He’d known that feeling far too many times. He recalled the video he’d watched earlier, how she’d been smiling and waving, and then her body had wracked with pain. He’d wanted to reach through the screen and hold her. Of course, he’d also wanted to know who was responsible for giving him the wrong tape. And since he didn’t think they were simply going to hand over the correct one, he decided the better path would be to do a little investigating.
Normally he wouldn’t drink, but hey, this was off-the-clock investigating. The captain wanted answers, but it didn’t mean the city would front overtime pay for those answers. Nope! They’d expect him to find those answers during his 8-4 shift.
After he’d finished his meal, Ashlyn cleared his plate. But since he was still sipping on the same drink, she didn’t offer a refill. Mark sat and watched as the restaurant filled and emptied several times. Ashlyn came by and made small talk a few times, brought him another drink, but then carried on with her duties.
Around eleven, there were only a few people sitting around the bar and a couple of servers finishing their tables. The beautiful blonde returned to his table, and this time, sat down across from him. “So why haven’t I seen you here before? Are you new to the area?”
“No. I usually come by at lunch. I know the owner, Steve,” he said, hoping she’d be a little more at ease that he wasn’t some stalker, even though in a way, he was.
“Oh. Cool! Steve’s awesome. I’ve worked for him for three years. It’s great work while I finish my undergrad.”
He nodded. Though he’d known most of that. He’d already done a background check. She’d never been in trouble, not even a speeding ticket, even driving a turbocharged Jetta.
“What’s your major?” he asked.
She smiled, and he enjoyed the slight flush in her cheeks. “Business. I figure it’s the most versatile. Whether I want to open my own business, run somebody else’s, or even teach, it’s a great degree.”
“I agree.”
“What do you do?” she asked.
Mark inspected the Gucci watch on her wrist, the diamond tennis bracelet on the other, her Lucky You jeans, and
the eight-hundred-dollar biker boots she tended bar in, and smiled. Either she came from money, or she made sure she looked like it. She’d have no interest in a police detective. Although he did well with his other ventures, he couldn’t keep her in the style she was accustomed to. But for some reason, he’d wanted to believe that he could, so he decided to tell a half-lie, especially since he didn’t want her to know he was here to watch her, hoping he’d get some insight on what happened last night. “I have several ventures.” Which was true.
She stood up, dismissing him, making her way to the bar. She swapped coasters, replaced a few drinks, closed out another patron’s tab, and then found her way back to him. She dropped down in the chair again. “Okay…another question, since you obviously didn’t want to answer the last one. Why are you still here?” she asked point-blank. “You’ve never been here at night that I’ve seen, and suddenly, you’ve spent your entire evening at this tiny table. You can’t even see the TV.”
He smiled, wondering who the detective was. She was smart. He lifted his iPhone as an answer. “Fruit Ninja.”
She laughed. “You’ve been playing games all night? And here I thought maybe you were interested in me, but I wasn’t sure if I needed to call my big brother to escort me to my car.”
“Do you have a big brother that comes and does that?” Slipping into detective mode, he wondered. A boyfriend had her bawling the night before, and then maybe big brother shows the next night. That could work.
“No. I don’t have any siblings.”
“Oh.” He exhaled a breath of relief at that, but it also meant he was back to square one. “Well, I assure you, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m just chillin’…for the first time in a long time actually.”
“You want another drink, then?”
“Might as well. I already have to call a taxi.”
The Library: Where Life Checks Out Page 3
