Page 88 of Keeping Secrets

“There’s no way they could trace this back to you.”

He looked at her sideways, considering.

“Squid, please. For Adam. Help me get justice for him.”

“Okay.” He sighed heavily. “For Adam.”

She leaned forward, waiting.

“His main contact was Martin Delaney. He didn’t actually give Adam his real name, but Adam was able to do some digging and figure it out. You know how smart he was. I can’t believe he’s gone, man. He was one of a kind.”

Keely repeated the name twice to make sure she had it right. She stayed a while longer, trying to see if there were any other names or contacts that he could give her, but that was all that he knew. It was something, at least.

“Thanks, Squid,” she said as she stood.

“Sure thing, Kailey.”

She didn’t bother correcting him. He was snoring before she even closed the front door.

This was it. She had a name. A lead.

She could only pray that it would be enough.

CHAPTER 28

The kitchen at the Bottlenose was empty, clean, and peaceful.

Travis had never been in this early in the morning. There had been the occasional summer night in the early days that saw him stumbling home at dawn, but he had never gotten up at first light and walked to work. Until today.

Maybe it was melodramatic, but he couldn’t stop thinking about everything that he would miss when he went away. Even in the most hopeful possible scenario, he expected to be arrested today. Jail, if not prison. And, having been to jail before, he knew full well just how much he would miss the simple things.

Things like silence. Having a room, any room, to himself.

The simple privilege of cooking delicious, healthy food.

And so, before he turned himself in, he cooked one last meal. His kitchen at home was basically empty, but the kitchen at the Bottlenose was always well stocked.

He seared two burger patties, then slathered a bun with butter and toasted that as well. He melted two slices of sharp cheddar cheese onto the hamburgers, then piled them with all of the fresh veggies available. Before setting the top bun onto the tower of food, he added a heavy spoonful of the jam that Juan made with bacon and sun-dried tomatoes.

It was a good last meal.

He washed it down with a beer, because why not? He would miss those too.

After he’d eaten, he made himself an Italian soda with their house syrup. Raspberry and kiwi. It was a muddy mixture not fit for the menu, but it tasted phenomenal.

He was killing time. Delaying the inevitable.

Well, who could blame him?

As he sipped the sweet drink, he wrote a letter to Scot. Not a particularly long letter, but more than a note. In it, he explained what he had done, and why. He apologized for not being there when Scot needed him and urged him to lean on Nick. Then he put the letter into the top drawer of Scot’s desk, locked it, and pocketed the key.

Scot had the only other copy. And with Travis gone, he would have to come into the office sooner than later to take care of business.

He could handle it, Travis assured himself as he washed his glass and locked up. His ankle was healing well, and there was nothing wrong with his mind. Whatever else was going on, well, maybe he would recover. He was still a young man, after all. Too young to be old, at least.

Wanting to stretch out his last moments of freedom as long as he could, Travis walked across town to the police station. He relished the warm sun and cool air in a way that he never had before. At least, not since being released from jail as a teenager.

How had he forgotten?

---