Page 49 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
“So why are you in here?” Kateri didn’t expect to like the answer.
Berk pulled off his baseball hat and ran his hand over his bald head. “I heard a rumor and when I saw the sheriff come in here, I thought I’d follow along and ask if it was true.”
Kateri sighed. Small towns. Everybody knew everything about five seconds after it happened. “It’s true. We lost a tourist last night.”
Bertha put her hand on her skinny hip. “Something tells me it wasn’t another dumbass who walked off the cliffs while he was texting.”
“No, although we did have one come into the police station yesterday to demand we retrieve her phone from the ocean.”
Berk and Bertha cackled.
Then Bertha sobered. “The way you’re acting, I’m going to guess it’s another slashing.”
“Yes.” Kateri pushed the half-finished chocolate away. “He, um, finished what he started with Monique.”
“Slashed her neck?” Bertha guessed.
“Slashed around her face.” Kateri gestured in a circle around her own face.
“What?” Bertha got loud.
Heads turned.
Bertha leaned across the bar. “What?” she whispered.
“Exactly what I said. Head wounds bleed, you know? I don’t ever want to see that again.” Kateri reached across and took Bertha’s hand. “Listen, if this is John Terrance, and even if it’s not, you’re the sole witness to Monique’s attack and I’m worried about you.”
“I know, honey. But I’m not leaving town, and I’m not leaving my bar.” Bertha was implacable. “No little prick with a box cutter is going to chase me away from my home.”
“I figured you were going to say that… Got any objections to the occasional police presence?”
“Not at all. I’ll give ’em peanuts, jerky, hot chocolate and maybe even iced tea.” Bertha crossed her fingers and her heart. “No liquor for the boys in blue.”
Kateri slid off the bar stool. “You take care of yourself, Bertha.” She turned to Berk. “You, too. John Terrance worked for you once upon a time, and you fired him.”
Berk turned a lovely shade of green.
Kateri said, “All of us, no matter who we are, need to be careful.”
Kateri thought he’d turned green because he was considering how John Terrance might get his revenge. But the way Berk stared at the door made her look, and she recognized the form silhouetted against the light.
Luis Sanchez, the current Coast Guard commander. He had served under her when she held the post. He had been a steadfast friend through the horror of her drowning and the constant, dreadful effort of recovery. He had been her most constant friend… and then, almost lover.
That was when things got awkward.
Luis headed for Kateri. He was Hispanic, tanned, not too tall, toned, moved like a dancer and a dark curl of hair caressed his forehead. It was miracle any woman ever resisted him.
Kateri had been so, so lucky.
Berk, the lousy coward, said, “Gotta go to work. Talk to you later, Sheriff!”
Bertha, the other lousy coward, moved to the far end of the bar and started assiduously polishing the glasses.
Even the fishermen leaned back in their chairs as if they viewed a possible blast zone.
Luis pulled up the stool Berk had so recently vacated. He leaned close and quietly said, “I’ve got news about John Terrance. Maybe.”
Kateri sat back down. This was the best news she’d had in two days and it was delivered by a man who was all business. “Tell me,” she said.
