Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (13 page)

Fagan snorted and shook his head. “No. I think she was an addict, and the labs confirm that. She made this mess herself over time and apathy.” He looked around, disgust curling his lip. “Are you done?”

I nodded and followed him back out. When we were back in the car, he rolled his shoulders back. “I need a drink. Do you mind if we make a stop before I take you home?”

“Will you take me back to Montgomery?”

He cracked his neck. “Sure, we’ll get a drink there instead.”

****

Walking into O’Malley’s
was like running into an old friend I actually wanted to see. I missed it. Everything was exactly as it ever was, but I was different now. I wasn’t despondent. I even waved to Joe when he waved at me. A couple young people were in my usual booth—well, my old booth—but it didn’t matter. I led Fagan to the vacant stools at the bar.

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” Joe said with a smile. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, the usual,” I said lightly, and he winked at me. I had no delusion he didn’t know all about what happened, but I liked that he was willing to play the game with me.

He eyed Fagan’s suit and my uncharacteristic dress. “What can I get ya? The usual?”

I couldn’t bring myself to say no, so I shook my head. Having a drink felt more like cheating on Gabriel than being out with Fagan—because it wasn’t a date. “Water.”

“Vodka tonic and a shot of Patron,” Fagan said when Joe looked at him.

I watched him mix the vodka tonic and my stomach fluttered in anticipation. Joe slid my water in front of me and turned around to retrieve the bottle of Patron behind him. He poured Fagan’s shot and sat his drinks in front of him. I took a long unsatisfying pull on my water. An internal struggled warred in me, and I stared at Fagan’s vodka tonic as if I could make it appear in my hand.

Fagan nudged me. “A booth is open,” he said when I looked up.

I followed him to the booth and slid in across from him. I didn’t take my eyes off the untouched vodka tonic in front of him, but I leaned back, distancing myself.

“Why don’t you like me?” Fagan asked.

My face crinkled. “Is this the part of the night where we have a heart-to-heart and braid each other’s hair? I pass.”

“I’m not a bad person. Most people don’t mind my company. Hell, some even like it.”

“I imagine you don’t torment and manhandle them.”

“I said I was sorry for that.”

“Oh, yes, that makes everything better.”

He sipped his drink and studied me. “You didn’t like me from the start.”

I had another mouthful of water. The bland liquid rolled down my throat. So very boring. “Nothing personal. There are very few people I like from the start.”

He shot back the rest of his tequila, held up his empty glass to a waitress walking by, and asked for a refill. “Was Detective Troy one of those people?”

I thought back. It was hard to say if I liked Gabriel from the start. I didn’t dislike him. “Not exactly.”

Fagan smiled. “Well, I guess that gives me hope. We might be friends yet.”

I shrugged.

He stretched an arm over the back of the booth. “What I want to know is what makes you so special?”

My eyebrows pulled together. What the hell was he talking about? “Nothing.”

“Then why do you think you’re so much better than everyone else that you can judge them without even knowing them?”

I laughed, tracing the sweat rivulets on the side of my glass. “I don’t think I’m better than anyone. See that table over there.” I pointed to a particularly fun-looking table, where people were laughing and having a grand time. “You could probably go over there, start talking to them, maybe even join in. I couldn’t. It isn’t me. I’m not friendly, and I don’t really want to be. I’m better now than I was, but…”—I shrugged again—“as Gabriel says, baby steps.”

Fagan watched the fun table until the waitress returned with his fresh drink. “So asking you to go to parties where you don’t know anyone and socialize is—”

“Dreadful.” I nodded. “But my will is stronger than my antisocial tendencies these days—and I’m determined to solve Mary’s case.”

Fagan’s jaw softened a little and he took another drink. “Do you even want to change?”

Did I? The word “no” was on the edge of my tongue, teetering back and forth. A smaller part of me—the part that always cleaned up after my brash side—wanted to say yes. “Sometimes.” I smiled a little—very little. “I can’t tell you how to make me like you. Just stop being such a douche. That would be a good start.”

Fagan laughed, throwing his head back. “Detective Troy is a saint for putting up with you.”

“You don’t know half of it.” Perhaps it was the environment, but I was relaxed, and Fagan seemed nearly bearable. “What about you? Why are you bargaining for dates? Surely there are other girls in Jackson.”

He nodded. “But none quite so famous as you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just when I started to think you weren’t so bad, you had to prove me wrong.”

Fagan laughed. “I thought you’d appreciate honesty.”

“It’s better than thinking you have some unrequited love for me.”

The waitress stopped by our table. “Another round?”

“Yes,” Fagan said with enthusiasm. I looked at my water and at his tonic. The devil on my shoulder felt more like herself being in O’Malley’s and demanded a real drink. “Come on, Ella, have a drink with me,” Fagan prompted when I took too long to decide.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, more because it had to be said than because I meant it.

“Why not.”

“I used to drink a lot.”

“Are you in AA?”

I snorted. “Yeah, because group therapy would work so well for me.”

“Then you’re fine. Somewhere under all of this”—he waved his hand at me, making me scowl—“is someone fun. I’m sure of it.”

I shook my head at the waitress. Fagan couldn’t have been more wrong. I was a mean drunk, always had been. This was the nice me. He leaned over the table. “Can I ask you question?”

“That depends on the question.”

“Why’d you stay in the house? If it was so haunted and you were so terrorized, why didn’t you just leave?”

I sighed. I got this question a lot, and there was no easy answer to it. “Leaving never occurred to me as an option. I don’t have a lot of great qualities, but I don’t run away from things. Once I commit to something, I see it through. I committed to Danny, and our relationship was never going to end until I knew what happened to him.”

“What if the case was never solved? You would’ve just stayed?”

I nodded. I’d thought a lot about this. I didn’t know where my breaking point was, but if I hadn’t reached it during the height of those events, I probably never would have. I would’ve stayed until I was killed too. And as much as I hated to admit it or think about it, I was getting dangerously close to that point with this case as well. Each new factor or clue in this crime pulled me in deeper. Lakota’s death was like an anchor. I didn’t know if I could walk away from this, no matter what was on the line.

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. You’d think I’d be used to them by now.”

“You never get used to losing someone you really loved.” Fagan had his own sad, faraway look in his eyes. “It’s the sort of emptiness that stays with you.”

“It did for a long time, but I learned a lot about the person I was married to in the course of the investigation, and I was able to shut that chapter in my life. I’m starting a new one.”

“With Detective Troy.”

Unless he leaves me.
“Unless he wises up.” I forced a laugh that didn’t sound light or breezy at all.

Fagan studied me, and I worried my doubt was too clear on my face. “He seems pretty smitten.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“Me either.”

This time I really did laugh. My heavy, uneasiness broke away. “Finally you laugh at my jokes. I was getting a complex.” Fagan’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Why can’t you be like this in Jackson?” Like this, Fagan and I could possibly be friends.

“I have an image and responsibilities in Jackson. Everyone who sees me is a potential voter, and I have to set a good example for my deputies.”

I let his words roll around in my head for a while. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Bullshit. That might be part of it, but you know you didn’t have to be such a jerk to me all this time because of that.”

“Then why did I do it?”

“Because you’re hiding something.” It slipped out without my having thought about it, but once I said the words they made sense. Maybe years of therapy had rubbed off on me. “It’s a defense mechanism. There’s something you’re hiding about Mary’s case and you’re worried I’ll find it while I’m poking around. That’s why you’re trying to keep me on the defensive.”

“That’s absurd.” He didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“Ha! No, I’m right and you know it.” He looked away. “Admit it.”

“Your boyfriend is here.”

“What?” My head snapped to attention and swiveled to the door. Sure enough, Gabriel was walking in with a couple other cops. I glanced back to Fagan, who wore a stupid, smug smile.

“Why, Ella, it appears you do care what at least one person thinks. Admit it,” he mocked.

My brain scrambled with what to do. Should I try to hide and sneak out? No, that was stupid. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I should go over and talk to him. Surprise him. He’ll be happy to see me. Hopefully.
I was sliding toward the edge of my booth, watching him, when his eyes met mine. He looked shocked, then smiled a little—until his eyes flickered away from me and onto Fagan. A faint line of worry creased his forehead, and I wanted to smooth it out. He veered away from his friends in our direction.

“Hi.” I smiled brightly, standing up to greet him. “Fancy meeting you here.” I put my hands on his arms and leaned in to brush my lips against his cheek.

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” His eyes roamed, taking everything in. The dress, the drinks, Fagan lounging in the booth like he hadn’t a care in the world, the bruises on my arm—and there his gaze stopped. His expression darkened as he took in the bruises, and he gently lifted my arm and examined it closer. “What the hell happened? Are these fingerprints?” He looked from me to Fagan, waiting for an answer.

“Let’s sit down.” I pulled him down to the booth with me.

“I didn’t think you were meeting any more witnesses today.” He reached out, took a drink of my water, then rubbed his hand over his temples with something like relief crossing his face.

“I’m going to the restroom. Good to see you again, Detective Troy.” Fagan, the slimy traitor, scooted out of the booth and limped away.

Gabriel’s whiskey-colored eyes seared holes through my defenses. “Ella, start explaining.”

“Well, you see…” I had no idea what to say. “Where do you want me start?”

He sighed. “Let’s try the beginning and see how that works.”

“Okay. Well, Martha lent me this dress to wear to the stupid fundraiser Fagan made me go to. We got to the fundraiser and Lola, that’s the politician’s wife, whisked me away from Fagan and we spoke about her son, Alfie—he knew Mary. Then later Fagan tried to make me mingle, and you know how I feel about
mingling
.”

A small grin twitched his lips. “I do.”

“I told him that wasn’t part of our agreement, and if he expected me to socialize, I wanted new terms. So we began to debate, and I may have accused him of not caring as much about Mary or Lakota as winning elections and being a bad investigator”—I paused as Gabriel’s grin broadened—“which made him mad.”

“You think?”

I rolled my eyes. “Men are too sensitive. Anyway, we started yelling at each other and, to avoid more of a scene, he dragged me outside. I fought against him, hence the bruises. I broke his toe, and he agreed to let me see Lakota’s apartment. After we looked at that, he wanted to go get a drink, and I wanted to come home, so we compromised and came here.”

“Had that story come from anyone else, I’d think it was a lie.” Gabriel shook his head. “So he
hurt
you?”

“I hurt him worse than he hurt me. I’m pretty sure I won that battle.”

Gabriel bit his lip. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to decide what to do about him.”

“You don’t have to do anything ‘about’ him.”

He gave me a level look. “I’m getting pretty sick of seeing him entirely too close to you. Now this.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” His eyes flashed. “I don’t like you being so far away and spending so much time with him.”

My chest warmed, and I snuggled closer to Gabriel until we were touching. It was easy to forget Gabriel had his own baggage in the form of a cheating ex-wife. Of course he’d be paranoid. “You have nothing to worry about. I can barely tolerate him.”

“You could barely tolerate me when we first met.”

“Not true. You were never the tool he is.” I rested my head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I don’t like you just because we worked a case together, and working with someone else isn’t going to change how I feel about you.”

His breath caught in his chest.