Page 89 of Bad Intentions

I was at the bar the night that woman came in. In her mid-twenties or thirties, tired but with that pretentiousness that I recognized in Al and Vic. When she pulled out the picture from her purse to show it to Karen, I made sure I was close enough. The familiar face on the picture was Derek’s.

A woman, a baby, and him. The floor dropped from under my feet.

When the woman walked out, I asked Karen what her deal was.

“Everything is fine,” Karen said, brushing me off.

But things were far from fine. Karen was on the phone right away, calling Donna Snickett at the Old Rooster. When I tried to eavesdrop, she sent me away to the kitchen.

Argh!

I had my own agenda, and part of it was to make sure no one took Derek away from me.

I went out the back door of the bar and into the parking lot. The woman looking for Derek was getting into her car. A BMW. So, she had money.

I knocked on the car’s window.

“Are you looking for someone?” I asked when she rolled the window down. “Can I help?”

Her name was Sarah. She showed me the picture of “Jimmy.” I almost lost it, seeing Derek like this, with a family.

“Your husband?” I asked.

“Yes. Have you seen him around?”

“Yes, at this bar a couple of times. But… The owner doesn’t get along with him. She won’t tell you anything. He stopped coming here. I can ask my friends and find out where he stays. Is everything okay?”

“We had…um…an argument.”

Her hesitation was a clear sign that they weren’t together. Yet, she was here, looking for him.

“That baby is yours?” I asked.

“Yes, our son. He misses his father.”

“Are you sure he will come back?”

“Jimmy has to. I’ll make him.”

I’ll make him. See? Guys like Derek always had women who tried to cling and rope them in. Make him stay.

“Do you have a mobile?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Can I get your number? I’ll text you when I find out. You stay low.”

She frowned at me.

I shrugged. “People in this town don’t like outsiders. No one will tell you anything.”

God, I loved how sneaky and smart I sounded.

“I appreciate it,” she said, nodding vigorously, and handed me a pen so I could write her number on my palm. No way I was giving her mine.

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

“At the Star Inn.”