Page 66 of Aftermath
We, because we were a team. As much as I hated to admit it, Len had become my partner in a matter of weeks. I swore I’d never work with someone again, let alone work in the field. Somehow, Len was slowly repairing the bullet-sized hole inside me.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
A simple question, but there was more to it. I could see her unraveling the layers of my question, her lips pulling in how they did whenever she concentrated.
“I do,” she whispered.
* * *
“What do you have for me, Mags?” I asked, answering the phone.
“Sorry it took so long, but I have the information about the bar you asked about.”
“No worries. I appreciate you helping with this. I know you have a lot on your plate otherwise.”
I could almost feel her smiling through the phone.
“It has minimal employees, fewer than twenty. It’s owned by Bobby Evans, has been for fifteen years. I’m emailing you a list of the employees and more information about them all, including any records,” she said.
“Thank you, Mags,” I said.
“And Stone?” she added.
“Yes?”
“I also had a chance to look at that footage you sent.”
My heart raced. I hadn’t expected her to have news on that yet. “Were you able to make out the keychain?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve sent you blown up screenshot that’s been clarified too. It’s a tag, a label for keys.”
I pulled open my laptop as I paced back-and-forth in the dining room. Len was still upstairs, getting ready for the day. She’d finally accepted the inevitable fact that I had to interview her after I asked her only two days prior.
My email popped up right away, and I saw the attachment from Mags. I opened it before she said another word.
The tag was easy to read after Mags worked on it, and I could make out the three words.
High Tide Pub.
Len came down shortly after my call with Mags, and we decided to walk the distance to the pub.I’d be trying to cover two leads in one visit. We originally planned to start at the pub during the day to walk through the night Len was attacked. It was the best way I could think of to compromise with her.
Len joined me in walking down the path into town. We walked down a lane of fully bloomed daisies. The daisies that had been sitting on my counter must have come from this small garden of them.
The walk down the path took approximately five minutes, and I had mapped out the rest of the way to the pub. It was located central in the town, an easy walking distance for both tourists and locals.
“Have you been back since?” I asked.I groaned internally, an obvious answer. Why was I so oblivious to other’s feelings sometimes?
Len shook her head. “I haven’t been able to step foot inside that place since that day.”
I wasn’t shocked. Most victims with PTSD avoided triggers. Going back to the place where it all started, there was no doubt in my mind that would resurface painful memories for her.
“Why is it you came alone? If we are asking questions here,” she asked, “don’t you have a partner or someone at the FBI looking for you?”
I hesitated. She’d find out at some point. “This isn’t exactly a sanctioned FBI case.”
“Excuse me?” She stopped walking.
“Didn’t I tell you this,” I asked, rubbing my hand behind my head.
