She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,162

what’s allowed and what’s not. Interestingly enough, Nevada is very relaxed, still kinda the Wild West out here. You can carry a gun openly in this state nearly anywhere you want. Feel free to strap that thing to your hip and wear it proud!”

“Who are the people in the white cars? You’ve mentioned them a few times now.”

Jack raised a finger, motioned for her to lean in closer. “I don’t like Nevada. It’s too hot out here, too hot for coats. They leave their cars, and you can’t find them anymore.” He motioned wide around the club. “Any one of these people, except the girls, maybe…but who knows?”

Two more shots appeared on their table. Fogel hadn’t seen Jack order them this time. Jack slid one toward her.

Fogel shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Come on, you’re on vacation, right? Because if the sheriff doesn’t know you’re here, you’ve got to be on vacation.” He raised the glass. “To whoever is next!”

“Do you know who’s next?”

“I’m surely not going to tell you, if you won’t even drink with me.” He finished the shot and nearly dropped the glass.

A silly thought crossed Fogel’s mind at that point, one she should have ignored but didn’t—If she got him drunk enough, he might talk. He’s almost there. Maybe one more, two at the most. It wouldn’t be a confession, not in the legal sense, but she might learn what was going on, and she could use that.

Fogel raised her glass, smiled, and drank.

They did one more after that.

Lenny Kravitz blared from the speakers with “Fly Away.” She liked that song. She scooted her chair closer to Jack and leaned into his ear. “Who’s next?”

“What if it’s you? Maybe that’s why you’re here. Maybe she wanted you here. How do you know you’re not next?”

The deejay came over the loud speaker and told Grace to report to the main stage.

Jack’s posture changed. He grew tense.

The lights in the club went dark, and a single white beam struck the stage. The opening notes of “Uninvited” by Alanis Morissette began, and the most beautiful girl Detective Joy Fogel had ever seen stepped into the light.

Unbuttoned halfway, the sleeves rolled up, she wore nothing but a men’s white dress shirt, black heels, and black lace gloves, the kind you might find worn by the starlet in an old movie. They covered her fingertips to nearly her elbows. She stood there for a moment, perfectly still, her long, brown hair dripping over her shoulders, her head tilted down. Long, toned legs beneath the shirt, a hint of black lace panties beneath that. When she began to dance, Fogel found herself mesmerized, unable to look away. She didn’t see Jack motion to one of the security guards. She didn’t even see the man come over. It wasn’t until he was standing behind her and put a hand on her shoulder that she noticed him at all.

The guard leaned close to be heard over the music. “You’ll need to come with me, ma’am.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been told you have a firearm in your purse.”

“I’m allowed to…” The whiskey hit her harder than she thought, and the room tilted. She drew in a breath to compose herself.

He knew what she was going to say, though. “Yes, you’re allowed to carry a gun in your purse in the state of Nevada, providing you are not intoxicated. You are clearly intoxicated, though. You’ll need to come with us, ma’am.”

Another man lifted her out of the chair. When had ‘he’ become an ‘us?’

She looked to Jack. He held up his empty shot glass and smiled. “I’m a stickler for the law, Detective. Thanks for drinking with me. I hope you have a wonderful night.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the men dragged her away before she could, one riffling through her purse as they went.

5

I watched the security guards take the detective away only long enough to see them disappear down the hallway behind the deejay booth. Then my eyes went back to the stage, to her.

I first saw her the night before last, and the aching in my heart only grew with each tick of the clock. I sat at this same table, picking it because it was close to the dressing rooms—from the moment I left Pittsburgh, down each highway, turnpike, and interstate, I felt myself growing closer to her. By the time I crossed into Nevada, more than two thousand miles behind me, I found myself pressing the accelerator damn near to the floor, my