Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,50
Why is he closing us in?
“Open the door!” I shout. “I don’t want to be in here with you.”
“Felicity,” he says, “Aspen was in the freezer with—” I shake my head, not because I know what he’s going to say, but for the fact that I don’t think I want to know. And I don’t want to be in a confined space with him while he tells me.
“I can’t do this. I need more time. I’m not ready to be back here.” I reach around him, push the door open, and run from the kitchen, through the parking lot, and away from the restaurant. I run until my legs hurt. Until I’m in the middle of the goddamn city on some random side street filled with a bunch of trashy bars.
I walk into the closest one and take a seat at the bar. I order Vodka on the rocks, pull out my phone, and open the text app.
Me: Meet me at Tilly’s. It’s in the city, down some side street.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE WALKS IN, looking a bit surprised. His eyes roaming the place before he spots me. As he drops down onto the empty stool beside me, I slide a beer-filled glass over to him. “Here.”
“Okay, nutso, what are you doing in a biker bar instead of working?” I take the opportunity to look around, realizing I’m the only woman in this place, which explains the looks I’ve been ignoring for the past thirty minutes.
“I think I’m losing my mind, Tanner.”
He folds his hands together over the bar and lowers his head. “Yeah, I feel the same.”
“Why would they think I did it?” Unease bubbles in my chest, and the alcohol isn’t doing a thing to take the edge off. “I don’t get it.”
“What do they think you did to cause it?” he asks. “I mean if they’re questioning you, what do they think you did to start the fire?” He takes a swig of his beer and twists to look at me, waiting for an answer. He’s probably wondering what I could have done. How long before he blames me? Seems to be the only thing to do now that I’m the prime suspect.
“When I told them I had a cigarette before bed, they ended their questions. I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s what they think caused it.”
Sensitivity goes out the window when disappointment fills his eyes. “Smoking,” is all he says. He may as well have just stamped guilty on my forehead. “Do you think you did something reckless without realizing it? Obviously, it wouldn’t have been purposeful, but Blake told me you were burning the candle—sorry—you were working a lot of hours.”
The thought has entered my mind a few times. When I try to recall the exact moment I tossed the butt into the little sand filled tin on the back porch, it’s like my mind goes blank. I can’t remember throwing it in there. It’s like when I can’t remember if I unplugged the iron or not; I can replay the action of ironing over and over, but I never remember if I actually unplugged it. “I don’t know…but it certainly wouldn’t have been intentional. Doesn’t arson mean ‘on purpose’?”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Did they say why they’re considering it arson?”
I feel like I still know nothing even after sitting in front of that detective for an entire hour. “No, they said they suspect arson and they’re in the process of a more thorough investigation. I should know more soon.”
He looks almost relieved when I say this, and I wish I felt the same. “I think you should relax a bit until they find a reasonable cause. Do you want me to give my dad a call? I know he’s been trying to help out on the case to push things along.” I almost forgot he works for the Providence Police Department.
“No.” I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to push for information. It’ll probably just make me look guiltier. This is ridiculous. “Thanks, though.”
* * *
Tanner hasn’t said much to make me feel better. Instead, I’ve downed a few more vodkas while he’s been nursing his beer, staring through the TV in front of us. Maybe he’s realizing he shouldn’t even associate himself with me. I’d probably be thinking that if I were him too. At least it’s almost eleven. I have to go meet Hayes—a very good reason to end this uncomfortable silence.
I pull my coat off the back of my