In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,21
“Don’t tell me.”
“James Worthington Crane.” Apparently, she watched cable news. “Can I get another drink? Make it a triple?”
“I fuckin’ knew it.” She poured more whiskey into his glass. “I told Beau when that story came out that the guy looked just like him. But in person—holy shit. It’s even weirder than I thought. Literally identical. What are you doing here? You know what, show me your ID.”
James gamely reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and trading his license for the drink.
“James Worthington Crane.” She inspected the license, arching a slender brow. “New York City. Shit.”
“That’s me.” James took another long drink that made his eyes water slightly. “What’s your name?”
“Shelley.” Shelley passed his ID back, eyeing him as she toyed with a silver skull-shaped tongue stud, flashing it between her lips in a way that even he found sort of sexy. “So, what are you, his long-lost twin? What’s this about?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” After this afternoon, the twin comment hit differently. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“Hm.” Shelley cocked a brow and gave him a slow once-over. “You could call him that.”
Well, well. His lookalike was a lover. “Do you know where I could find him?”
“Find him for what?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” James swallowed the second half of his drink and licked his lips, impatient for the alcohol to penetrate his bloodstream. “I wanna see for myself. When’s the last time you saw him?”
“Back in August, probably.” Shelley crossed her arms and leaned against the back counter, the bottles behind her glowing faintly under old amber lamps. The skull flashed between her lips as she appraised him. “The fuck are you doing out here?”
“Drinking, mostly.” He pushed his empty glass toward her. “Another triple.”
“Chill out.” Shelley picked up the bottle and poured a skimpy double. “You couldn’t drink in New York?”
“I didn’t want to.” James took another searing gulp.
“Did they ever catch who did it?”
The din of the tavern seemed to quiet, the air tightening around him. “No, they haven’t.”
“Didn’t they think it was you at one point?”
“No.” He set the glass down a little harder than he meant to and fixed her with a cool look, wondering if she was being rude on purpose. “I was out of state. The police knew that from the beginning.”
“But weren’t people saying you planned it? For the money?”
“Only fucking assholes,” James bit out. “What’s your problem?”
“I don’t know you.” Shelley shrugged, unmoved by his irritation. “And you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
James propped his cheek on the heel of his hand as he glared at her, rolling the bottom edge of his glass along the countertop. Already too buzzed to lie, he sidestepped the question again. “Not for Beau. I never heard that name until I got here the day before yesterday. It sounds like I have a doppelgänger, but it’s news to me.”
Shelley scoffed, looking him over critically. “You think he’s the doppelgänger?”
James sighed. “Listen, a cop came up to me yesterday.” He watched her eyes narrow. “Yeah. Officer Brady. I heard about the warrant, and the boat.”
Shelley rolled her eyes so hard her whole head went along. “Those cops know he didn’t do that. They just like to get on his ass.”
James believed her, and was oddly pleased. “So who did it?”
“I don’t know, James Worthington Crane. What am I, your personal fuckin’ police scanner?”
“I just wanna meet him.” James’s glass was empty now, and he could hear his words starting to slur as the whiskey caught up. “Maybe he is my long-lost twin. Maybe it’s like the Parent Trap.”
“Well, that’d be his lucky day, wouldn’t it? How rich are you, again?”
James scowled and waved off the question. “Can I have another drink?”
“Slow down, moneybags. You even know how many you’ve had?”
Two or three doubles plus a triple equaled…whatever. “I can handle my liquor.”
“We’ll see. Take a break.” A fisherman walked up to the other end of the bar and lifted a hand to get Shelley’s attention, and she pushed off the counter, fixing James with a look. “And mind your business. You’re not in fuckin’ Kansas anymore.”
James rolled the base of his empty glass on the bar, frowning at the loss of liquor and the fact that she wouldn’t talk. Mind his business? No way was he giving up on finding Beau. The idea had gotten into him like some ideas tended to do. Once he wanted to know something, see something, have something, he couldn’t let go—even if it