Page 81 of Breathe Me In

“I thought we could be friends, too, Sherry, until you started messing with Bree’s head. You crossed a line when you were with her in that ambulance. I put my trust in you that you were going to be there for her.”

“Bradley, no, you misunderstood—”

“I gotta go.” I hung up before she could say goodbye.

I had a meeting with the chief, but to my relief, he canceled, which meant I had a few hours free. I needed to do something with myself given the facts that Bree needed space and Sherry’s sudden need for my attention was exhausting. I needed to work through our plan, and the last thing I wanted was Sherry in my head.

My mind went to Bree. I thought again about my decision not to include her in the takedown. I knew it was unfair, but I worried about her safety. She’d been through a lot but had never been through something like this. I shook it off.

I nearly made it out of my driveway when Officer Stanley called through.

“Mornin’, Stone. I’m putting a gal through to you—name’s Donna Jay. She works for Sea Foam Brew. Says she has something to share.”

“Go ahead.” I stopped the car and waited for her voice to push through.

“Detective Stone, my name is Donna, and I worked with Sophia before.” Her voice sounded nervous. She paused, and I heard a small whimper. “Sorry, I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry about your friend, Donna.” I tried to be sympathetic while anxious to hear what she might have to offer. “Was there something you wanted to share?”

“Yes.” She sniffed and let out a long breath. “I’m not sure who you spoke to or haven’t yet, but I would investigate Jeremy Law—he’s a brew rep with Sea Foam, and she used to complain that he followed her home a few times. He was always creepy with her and hated when anyone else would flirt with her.”

Ah yes, I remembered he was on our list of people to check out. “Any idea where he might be?”

“Actually, yeah.” She paused. “He’s at the Velvet Nightclub right now. I work across the street when I’m not working nights there, and I can see him.”

“I’m on my way.” I eased out onto the road. “Whatever you do, don’t engage, and don’t let him see you watching him.”

As I pulled into the driveway of what the media now called the Murder Club, my gut told me something was off. I could see the owner, Longboard, next to the building. He had his arms in the air and seemed to be in a heated conversation with a man who I assumed was Jeremy Law wearing a Sea Foam Brew jacket. I parked and watched them argue as I radioed in my location, then shot Cap off a message about what I had heard, that I was at the club, and that I was going to check it out. I activated the AirTag that was embedded in the inside of my jacket. Captain had asked us to wear them given how crazy this case had become.

As I stepped from my vehicle, Longboard suddenly reached out and knocked the man’s clipboard out of his hand; it hit the ground not far from me, and Longboard looked my way, then shook his head and headed inside the club.

“Asshole,” the guy muttered as I grew closer. He picked up the clipboard and started to walk down a narrow alley next to the building where his truck was parked.

“Good afternoon.” I hurried to catch up with him. “Excuse me.”

“What?” he snarled over his shoulder as he reached his truck. He started to load some boxes of beer into the back.

“Looked like you and Longboard had some words back there.”

“Yeah.” He spun around. “And what’s it to you?”

I pulled back my jacket and showed him my badge. “It means a lot to me, and to a case I’m working on.”

His face paled, and he pulled on his gloves with a huff. “You’re a cop?” He lifted the dolly into the truck.

“I’m a detective workin’ on the club murders.” I grabbed hold of the end and helped him load it. “I want to ask you a few questions. What’s your name?”

“Jeremy Law. Haven’t you already asked all your questions? I’ve seen you here a few times talkin’ to people.”

“Yes, but I want to ask you a few questions. We haven’t talked yet.”

He shrugged.

“What’s going on with you and Mr. Longboard?”

He tugged his winter hat down over his ears as I quickly sent his name to Cap to check him out. “He just canceled our contract. Said our brand reminded his customers of the murders and he doesn’t want to let brew reps advertise in his club anymore.” He used the back of his hand to wipe his nose like a child. “Guess we’re in the media too much. I reminded him that any kind of publicity was good publicity, but as you saw, he disagreed, and there went my Christmas bonus.”

“Well, given that it was one of your young reps who was strangled to death in the guy’s club, I can see where he might be coming from.”