Chapter Thirty-Six

A month had passed since the Drake’s Den incident, and Jamie had since thrown herself back into the dull comfort of divorce cases and surveillance work. She sat at Hemingway’s bar, waiting for Cookie and watching Marty sling drinks as he egged patrons on to share their latest stories. She signaled to Marty, touching her empty glass with the top of her forefinger. “Uno mas, por favor.”

Deuce sat next to her on a high-backed barstool, a padded cushion providing enough stability for the stocky bulldog to stay balanced. Marty had placed a bowl of water on the bar for him, which he largely ignored. The pup would settle for nothing less than jalapeno poppers.

“I’ve got you covered, don’t worry,” Marty called from across the bar as he reached for a clean beer glass. As Jamie turned to look toward the door, Cookie walked in. He claimed the empty seat next to Deuce. Jamie had saved it for him by placing her satchel on the stool. He put the bag on the floor, prompting a scolding. “Give me that.” She wrapped the strap around her leg before letting it fall to the floor. “No one’s going to lift this bag without taking my leg with it.”

“Must be one of those girl tricks I’m glad I don’t have to deal with.” Cookie signaled to Marty for a drink. Marty navigated his way through two other bartenders and brought them matching beer glasses. “Another blonde ale for the lady and a Fireman’s Four for the gentleman.”

“We are definitely in the wrong place,” Cookie joked. “Do you see a lady?” His jab at Jamie resulted in a mock stink-eyed stare.

“Be nice,” Jamie said.

“I love you, you know that.”

Jamie grabbed a handful of peanuts from a nearby bowl, causing Deuce to take note. “Marty,” she called, “can we get some chicken strips for Deuce?”

He nodded at her and tended to the other waiting patrons piling up at the bar. Cookie held his glass up for Jamie to toast. “Cheers.”

The clinking of the vessels almost caused beer to spill over the top, foam threatening to escape down the sides of the glasses. The two friends drained their glasses like stranded sailors on an island, prompting Jamie to signal to Marty by circling her finger in the air to bring another round.

At that moment, Erin walked through the door and waved to her friends. “Bring me whatever they’re having,” she called to Marty as she pulled up a barstool and sat next to Cookie.

Cookie reached over and gave Erin a side hug, while Jamie offered her friend a wave from a few stools over.

“How are things at Silver Sands?” Jamie asked.

Erin reached for the bowl of stale snack mix and popped some of the salted concoction in her mouth. “Business is great. I think I’m going to start needing Deuce at least once a week for appearances. All my regulars love him.”

Deuce turned his face in her direction at the mention of his name, but when no food was offered, he quickly lost interest. Jamie gave his head a pat and reminded him that food was on the way.

“So, you want to take the Carter case?” Cookie asked, leaning over Deuce so Jamie could hear him above the conversations of nearby patrons.

She nodded. “Absolutely. I’m ready for some good old-fashioned domestic drama that pays well.” She took a long draw from her beer glass. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Cookie placed his hand on Deuce’s head, giving him a solid behind-the-ear rub. “I agree. It’s kind of nice to have some boring, basic cases for a bit.”

Jamie felt her phone vibrating in her back pocket. She reached behind her, retrieved it, and glanced at the screen. She recognized the number as Huntsville Prison. Brian had been trying to reach her since his unfortunate drug bust down in the Valley.

After a few seconds of deliberation, she turned the phone off and placed it face down on the bar. She knew who her family was now.