information on Aaron trickled in, including third-hand knowledge of a woman Aaron had harassed before he fixated on Libby. Simone had been trying to convince the woman to come forward when Libby’s restraining order was granted.
Now that the order had expired, Simone feared that Aaron had turned his attention back to the one woman who’d stood up to him and refused to tolerate his stalking.
She worked her way toward the bar, passing a woman too drunk to be holding a sharp implement as she threw a dart. It hit the Budweiser lamp above the board. The woman laughed uproariously and then flopped down in a nearby chair and took a swig of a beer too pale to have flavor.
Simone sat on an empty barstool and waved to the bartender, surprised to see a familiar face from three years ago.
“Hello, gorgeous. Haven’t seen you here in ages,” he said.
“Redhook ESB, please,” she said, waving a bill. “I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you can tell me if he’s here.”
The man next to her leaned close. “I’m right here, baby. Look no further.”
Simone rolled her eyes. Why didn’t the lines ever change? She shook her head. “Sorry, but it’s not you. I’m looking for a cop. Aaron Brady.”
“I’m a cop, too. A better cop than he is.”
She didn’t doubt that for a moment. But then, Aaron set the bar low. The bartender gave her the beer, but the cop next to her paid for it. She would miss the city. The few times she’d gone out in Coho, she’d had to buy her own drinks. “Thanks,” she said. “Simone Atherton.” She held out her hand.
He shook it and said, “Mike Ford.”
She addressed both Mike and the bartender. “Is Aaron here tonight?”
“Haven’t seen him,” Mike said.
“Me neither. He usually comes by if he’s off-duty,” the bartender said.
She looked at Mike. “Has Aaron been around much lately?”
“Why are you so interested in Aaron?”
“You friends with him?” she asked.
His shrug was indifferent. “Not particularly.”
She guessed this was the truth. “Neither am I. I just need to know where he is.”
“So you won’t be there?”
“Something like that.”
“I can tell you where he’s not.” He paused. “At my place.”
“Nice try.”
“Won’t work?”
“’Fraid not.”
Two men joined them; one of them slapped Mike on the back and begged for an introduction. She opened her mouth to give her name.
“Simone Atherton. What the fuck are you doing here?”
There he was, surly and in the flesh, Aaron Brady. The noise decreased as nearby patrons paused to listen. “I can be wherever I want. There’s no court order restricting my activities.”
The look on his face made her happy she’d dressed to flirt tonight because it had already gained her at least one friendly cop, and she’d need someone to escort her to her car later.
“Last I checked, there wasn’t one on me, either. You can tell your bitch-friend that, too.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Just a fact.”
“Have you been in Seattle the last few days, Aaron?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Why are you afraid to answer? Been somewhere you shouldn’t be?”
“There is no shouldn’t about it. The restraining order is history. Now I’ll tell you the same thing I told the hick cop in Coho. Your friend is a fucking psycho.” He turned and left.
Simone faced Mike. “Well, I think that went well, don’t you?”
Another man approached. “Ms. Atherton.” He flashed a badge. “Bobby Johnson, detective with the Seattle PD. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
C HAPTER S IX
A T NOON ON S UNDAY, L IBBY WATCHED from the bay window of the Shelby house as Jason Caruthers parked his gold Lexus in a no-parking zone. Last night the chief of police hadn’t said a word as he helped Jason unload boxes from that very same illegal parking spot. But then, you can do almost anything when you own the town.
She stepped out on the front porch to greet Jason, who looked like a girlhood
Now that the order had expired, Simone feared that Aaron had turned his attention back to the one woman who’d stood up to him and refused to tolerate his stalking.
She worked her way toward the bar, passing a woman too drunk to be holding a sharp implement as she threw a dart. It hit the Budweiser lamp above the board. The woman laughed uproariously and then flopped down in a nearby chair and took a swig of a beer too pale to have flavor.
Simone sat on an empty barstool and waved to the bartender, surprised to see a familiar face from three years ago.
“Hello, gorgeous. Haven’t seen you here in ages,” he said.
“Redhook ESB, please,” she said, waving a bill. “I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you can tell me if he’s here.”
The man next to her leaned close. “I’m right here, baby. Look no further.”
Simone rolled her eyes. Why didn’t the lines ever change? She shook her head. “Sorry, but it’s not you. I’m looking for a cop. Aaron Brady.”
“I’m a cop, too. A better cop than he is.”
She didn’t doubt that for a moment. But then, Aaron set the bar low. The bartender gave her the beer, but the cop next to her paid for it. She would miss the city. The few times she’d gone out in Coho, she’d had to buy her own drinks. “Thanks,” she said. “Simone Atherton.” She held out her hand.
He shook it and said, “Mike Ford.”
She addressed both Mike and the bartender. “Is Aaron here tonight?”
“Haven’t seen him,” Mike said.
“Me neither. He usually comes by if he’s off-duty,” the bartender said.
She looked at Mike. “Has Aaron been around much lately?”
“Why are you so interested in Aaron?”
“You friends with him?” she asked.
His shrug was indifferent. “Not particularly.”
She guessed this was the truth. “Neither am I. I just need to know where he is.”
“So you won’t be there?”
“Something like that.”
“I can tell you where he’s not.” He paused. “At my place.”
“Nice try.”
“Won’t work?”
“’Fraid not.”
Two men joined them; one of them slapped Mike on the back and begged for an introduction. She opened her mouth to give her name.
“Simone Atherton. What the fuck are you doing here?”
There he was, surly and in the flesh, Aaron Brady. The noise decreased as nearby patrons paused to listen. “I can be wherever I want. There’s no court order restricting my activities.”
The look on his face made her happy she’d dressed to flirt tonight because it had already gained her at least one friendly cop, and she’d need someone to escort her to her car later.
“Last I checked, there wasn’t one on me, either. You can tell your bitch-friend that, too.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Just a fact.”
“Have you been in Seattle the last few days, Aaron?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Why are you afraid to answer? Been somewhere you shouldn’t be?”
“There is no shouldn’t about it. The restraining order is history. Now I’ll tell you the same thing I told the hick cop in Coho. Your friend is a fucking psycho.” He turned and left.
Simone faced Mike. “Well, I think that went well, don’t you?”
Another man approached. “Ms. Atherton.” He flashed a badge. “Bobby Johnson, detective with the Seattle PD. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
C HAPTER S IX
A T NOON ON S UNDAY, L IBBY WATCHED from the bay window of the Shelby house as Jason Caruthers parked his gold Lexus in a no-parking zone. Last night the chief of police hadn’t said a word as he helped Jason unload boxes from that very same illegal parking spot. But then, you can do almost anything when you own the town.
She stepped out on the front porch to greet Jason, who looked like a girlhood
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