Page 112 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“I calmly told the tables in my area and the area adjacent to me that we needed to immediately evacuate the pub. And that doing so calmly would maintain that we all got out safely.”

“Well done,” Clint praised. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “We had a bomb threat at college two years ago and that was how my professor handled it. It worked. Nobody really panicked. Nobody was trampled. If you don’t overreact, others won’t either.”

Wyatt nodded. “And did you see a package come into the pub? Was it delivered at the front of house, or the back?”

Sipping her beer from the glass, she shook her head. “I didn’t see anything. I mean, don’t most packages and deliveries come in through the back?”

Wyatt and Clint nodded.

“How did Ginny react?” Everett asked, finally joining the questioning. It was about time. “Was she as calm?”

Nadine narrowed her light brown eyes. “Yeah … I think so. I mean, you know Ginny, she’s always been a little jittery.”

That was true. Ginny was a hard worker, but she had a nervous energy about her that Wyatt couldn’t figure out. Was it just anxiety? Or was she hiding something?

Nadine continued. “Ginny was covering the bar for Dom. So in theory, she was front of house manager. It was her job to make sure all patrons and staff got out okay. As far as I know, she was the last person out of the pub. At least the front of the house. But I think at that point, Burke had already taken the bomb outside and was making his way down to the beach.”

“And how was Ginny after the bomb was out of the pub and Burke was heading down the beach?” Everett asked.

“You’re asking a lot about Ginny,” Nadine replied, reaching behind her head and pulling the hair elastic out of her ponytail so her dark tresses fell to her shoulders. “Do you think she has something to do with it?”

“We’re just asking questions,” Everett said. “Nobody is pointing any fingers right now. We’re going to ask Ginny the same kinds of questions about you and everyone else.”

Nadine nodded, and even though she didn’t seem rattled, she did start to absentmindedly chew on her thumbnail. “I think I saw her doing a staff head count at one point. But other than that, it was so chaotic, I kind of lost track of her.”

“And the other servers? What were they doing?” Wyatt asked.

“Like when Ginny told me about the bomb? Or outside?

“Both.”

“Uh … I think Renée was making a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, Monique was taking a new table’s order, and Kline was helping one of the bussers clear a table because six people just walked in and we didn’t have six-top available. And the two bussers—Penny and Luke—well, Penny was helping Kline, and I think Luke was busy …” Her brows bunched as she thought, then she snapped her fingers. “Right, Luke was mopping up a spill after someone knocked over a drink and sent water and glass flying everywhere.”

Clint was busy writing all of this down so that way when they interviewed the rest they could verify where they were, see if there were any holes in anybody’s story.

“And what were they doing outside?” Everett asked.

Her lips twisted. “Ummm … I think we were all just trying not to freak out. Everyone was huddled together, keeping an eye on Burke in the kayak.”

“Thank you, Nadine. That will be all,” Wyatt said, offering the server a cursory smile.

Unsure, but also appearing relieved, Nadine stood up and left. “Wh-who should I send in next?”

“Ginny, please,” Clint, Everett and Wyatt all said at the same time.

“Dom’s is this one?” Myla asked, pointing to brick-red the house on the right side of Wyatt’s.

“Si,” Vica said from where she was hunched over and hiding in the backseat of the patrol car. “I know I am not under arrest, but I very much feel like a felon in the back here.”

“It’s for your own safety,” Myla said with a chuckle before pulling up in front of Dom’s house. She climbed out of her cruiser, then opened the back door for Vica. “Come on, perp,” she teased.

Vica climbed out, shooting the cop a glare. “Not funny.”

“In such a fucked-up time like this, there’s nothing youcando besides make a joke.” She exhaled and scratched her forehead. “This is really fucked up. Like, way out of the scope of my expertise. I don’t even think Jenkins or Fischer would know what to do in the case of a bomb.”

“Maybe you should get some training,” Vica replied, not in the mood for jokes.

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