Page 85 of An Evil Heart
He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “You going to be okay with all of this?”
“Yeah.”
When he smiles, I feel some of the weight lifted off my shoulders and not for the first time I’m reminded of everything he’s brought to my life, and why I love him so unconditionally.
“Thank you for talking me off the ledge,” I tell him.
“It’s nothing a decent bartender couldn’t have done.” He shrugs. “They solve most of the world’s problems, you know.”
“If you ever retire, some bar owner is going to snap you up.”
For a moment, we smile at each other. Then he gets to his feet and pulls me up to face him. “Too bad we can’t play hooky today,” he murmurs.
“No way we can pull that off.”
He leans into me, slides his arms around my waist, and presses his mouth to mine. “On the other hand.” He looks down at me. “It’s not yet five thirty in the morning.”
“Which means I need to get going.”
“Or it might mean we have an hour or so to kill before our cell phones start ringing.”
“You’re already dressed.” I straighten his tie, flick the knot with my forefinger. “You’re wearing your good suit today.”
“Fuck the suit,” he says, and sweeps me into his arms.
CHAPTER 23
I’m sitting in the Explorer in front of the Vernon Fisher’s gas station, windows down, watching the sun rise and listening to a cardinal chip from atop the maple tree a few yards away. I’m thinking about Aden Karn and Emily Byler, the masks people wear, and how those masks contrast with the personas they present to the rest of the world. I’ve always believed I have good instincts when it comes to seeing any darkness that lurks in the hearts of men. I’m loath to admit it, but I’d been wrong about Karn—and blind to a slew of possibilities in terms of motive.
Not a good look, Kate.
The crunch of tires on gravel pulls me from my thoughts. I glance left to see Vernon Fisher pull up next to me in an old Chevy pickup truck I’ve never seen before. His window is down, music blaring, and he’s glaring at me, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Not happy to see me parked in his driveway so early in the morning, a fact that gives me a disproportionate rise of pleasure.
Frowning, he jams the truck into park, tosses the cigarette to the ground, and gets out.
I meet him at his vehicle. “Get a new truck?”
“Bought it this morning for fifteen hundred bucks.”
“Nice.” I run my hand over the fender. “You must be an early riser.”
“Ain’t been to sleep yet, so…” He shrugs. “This about Aden?”
I tug the photo of Paige Rossberger and the red Altima from my pocket, unfold them, and show him the picture of the woman. “Have you ever seen her?”
He gives the photo a cursory look and shakes his head. “Who is she?”
I shuffle the photo of the Altima so that it’s on top. “What about this vehicle?”
Another perfunctory look. “Nope.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t take a very good look. Take your time. Take a good long look. This is an important moment for you.”
He narrows his eyes, not sure of my meaning. He doesn’t look at the photo. “No offense, Chief Burkholder, but I looked at those photos. I answered your questions. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me go inside and get some sleep.”
I’m aware of the cardinal chipping away. The truck engine ticking as the engine cools. The sun warm on my back. I think about Emily Byler, and I feel that dragon of rage snap its tail.
“I understand you’ve had a few parties here at the station,” I say, keeping my voice conversational.
