Page 59 of Dangerous Secrets
“Yeah.Come on.”Sawyerstood.
Knowing each other’s moves, Walker andSawyer crossed to the bar, taking the stools on either side ofBobby.Bobby shoved off his stool, teetering to keep his balance.“What the hell is this?What the hell?”Eyes bloodshot, his gazedarted from man to man.“A guy can’t have a drink without a coupleassholes interfering?What kind of place is this?”
“A place that doesn’tserve someone who’s already drunk.”Owen pulled a white towel fromhis shoulder and wiped the surface of the bar.
Bobby Finley was one of those guys whoalways seemed to be around, always in the background.Always with achip on his shoulder.
“How you getting home,Bobby?”Sawyer asked.
“None of your fuckingbusiness.”
One of the guys at the end of the barstood.His hair curling from under a Giants ballcap was gray, andhe had more of a gut than before, but Walker still recognized himas Ted Alvarez, who’d coached his Little League team when he wasten.
“C’mon, Bobby.I’ll dropyou off at your place.”
“I want fucking Owen toserve me a fucking drink.”
“Sure you do.And if youdon’t make a bigger fuss than you already have, Owen will serve younext time you come in.But not tonight.”
Bobby looked like he’d continuearguing, then his shoulders slumped.“Whatever.Beer’s watered downhere, anyway.”He weaved his way toward the back door, mumblingunder his breath.“Bunch of assholes.”
“Next one’s on the house,Ted,” Owen said.
“Thanks.”Ted nodded toSawyer and clapped Walker on the arm as he moved to follow Bobby.“Glad you’re back, son.”
“Guy doesn’t drinkanything harder than Coke.”Owen nodded after him as Ted followedBobby out.“Lonely bastard.Comes in most nights since his wifedied about eight months ago.”
“Mrs.Alvarezdied?”
Owen confirmed it with a grimnod.
Walker remembered Alvarez’s wife, atiny woman who’d always worn purple.Purple hats, sandals withpurple flowers, purple t-shirts.She’d attended every one of thegames her husband coached, cheering from the bleachers, and madeawesome tacos for the end-of-season team party.
He wondered what it would be like tohave been married that long and then suddenly have to live withoutthat person.He guessed there was a message in there about makingthe time you had count.He shook off the gray mood and returned tothe table, taking the last swallow of beer from hisglass.
Sawyer stood with his phone in hishand, staring at the screen while Walker took their empty glassesto the bar.
“Later, Owen.”Sawyerjerked his head at the back and Walker followed him to thedoor.
They stepped out into the cool night.Ted and Bobby were already gone.Sawyer stopped in the glow of thelight over the back door.“Detective sent me photos from theassault in Pine Cove.”
Something in Sawyer’s tone had thehairs on the back of Walker’s neck standing on end.
Sawyer held up his phone to show thescreen.“This is the knife they found at the scene.”
Walker stared at the image and feltlike he’d taken a sucker punch to the face.“What thefuck?”
“That your knife,brother?”
Bone handled.Blood on the blade.Itwas the same knife his grandfather had given him on his fifteenthbirthday with “Walker” carved onto the handle by James in small,precise letters.The same one Delaney had cut her thumb on thenight Pop had died.If it wasn’t on his belt, he kept the knife inits sheath in the glove box of his truck.
“I need to look in mytruck.”
He pulled out his keys, but evenbefore he unlocked the passenger door, he knew he wouldn’t find hisknife.He went through the motions anyway, opening the truck door,punching the release on the glove box.He felt around inside,coming up with nothing.
The sucker punch to the face now feltmore like he’d been flattened by a semi.He shoved back to leanagainst the side of the truck, staring up at the night sky.Thesharp memory of the metal bars clanging shut on his cage that firstnight he’d spent in prison echoing through his head.He pulledpine-scented air into his lungs and told himself to keepbreathing.
Sawyer went through the glove boxhimself before standing with his hand on Walker’s shoulder.“When’sthe last time you saw it?”
