Page 8 of Shelter for Sharla

There was no sign inside the doorway asking patrons to wait to be seated, so he strolled to the bar and took a stool. The bartender turned and smiled. “Hey there! What’ll it be?”

“Whaddya have on tap?” After listening to the recitation of domestics and imports, Carter settled on a StellaArtois. “I hear you have a great burger or two,” he said before the barkeep could walk away.

“Sure do. I think our jalapeno and Monterey Jack is the best.”

“I’ve heard that too. Could I have one with pub chips?”

“Coming right up,” the younger man said with a smile as he walked away. In seconds, a frosty mug of amber-colored liquid appeared in front of Carter and he took a long, deep draw from it. God, that was exactly what he needed!

As he sat, he turned slightly to look around. It was the usual kind of crowd in a bar like that?“like that” being decidedlynothip. The old school vibe was alive and well within its aging walls. There were a few couples, some with other couples and others who looked like they were having a simple date night. Against the far wall sat a table with a checker board on it, and two guys bent over it playing, one about his age and one much younger. Father and son maybe? When he turned the other way to check out that end of the building, he almost choked.

SharlaBarker was sitting at the other end of the bar. And she was alone.

Awww, hell. This isnothow I’d pictured this evening going, he told himself. Which would be worse? Going down there and speaking to her? Or waiting to see if she recognized him and came his direction? Carter rolled his eyes and sighed.Might as well get it over with. He stepped up quietly, beer in his hand, and asked, “Mind if I sit?”

She spun to face him and her eyes went wide. “Sheriff! No, please. Have a seat. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been wanting to check this place out. I hear the food’s good.”

“It is. I come here every Thursday night. It’s ladies’ night and it’s the only time I can afford to take myself out to eat,” she answered, her cheeks pinking. Carter thought that was unbelievably cute?and a bit sad too.

“You won’t have to worry about that tonight. It’s on me,” he said and took another sip of his beer.Holy fuck, this is a bad idea, he thought, chastising himself.Oh, well, it’s done now.

The woman’s face reddened. “That’s not necessary.”

“I insist. You’ve had a shitty week. It’s the least I can do.”

He thought he saw a tear in the corner of her eye before she said, “Well, thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So you said you had some news about Tamara?”

Well, shit, here goes the evening, he groused internally. “Actually, yeah, I do. Her cause of death was a gunshot wound.”Should I?he wondered.What the hell.“From my weapon.”

She was silent for a few seconds, then said, “Well, thank you for being honest.”

“Feel like I have to be. Even though there were several wounds, that was the deciding one. But we’re trying to unravel a bit of a puzzle.” Deciding not to hesitate, he whipped out the picture of the tattoo. “Ever seen this before?”

Sharla took it in her hands and held it up to the light. “Not that I recall. What is it?”

“That’s the tattoo.”

She shook her head, still staring at it. “No. I’ve never seen anything like it. What is that design?”

“We don’t know, but I have to believe it has some meaning. No idea at all?” The woman shook her head.Should I tell her about the drugs?In that moment, he decided not to. He’d tell all three of them the next evening when he went to talk to the kids. Until then, he’d keep that to himself. “And you’re Lionel’s aunt?”

She nodded, her face sad. “Yes. My sister’s kids. Their dad was killed in a robbery gone wrong, and my sister died of cancer four years ago. It’s been left up to me to take care of them.”

“And Chelsea’s your only daughter?”

That got another nod. “Yes. Her father and I divorced when she was eight. We haven’t seen him since.” He had to admit, the woman had it rough. Three kids, two of whom weren’t even hers, and she was going it alone. His hat was definitely off to her.

Throw her a scrap, Melton. The woman needs encouragement. “Chelsea seems like a good kid.”

“She is. Honor roll student, dean’s list, works almost full time.”

“Wow. That’s something. So does she live on campus?”

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