Page 13 of Let Her Live

Hey, beautiful, sorry about earlier. Hope you know I'm thinking of you. You're a superstar.

What was she supposed to say to that? He was being nice, but she also had told him she needed time. She also knew that if she didn't reply to him, he'd get upset.

Part of Fiona wanted to confide this in Jake. But she also knew that wasn't appropriate. They had kissed, after all, and Fiona wanted to keep things professional. As much as she thought of Jake as her friend, they were working on a case; they needed to stay focused on that and not on her insignificant personal problems. After all, there was a killer out there, and real people were losing their lives.

***

The Celtic Knot, with its large pub tables and endless Irish food options, was the type of place you expected to see on St. Patrick's Day, but not in the middle of the summer. The inside was dark, and there was an air to the room that made it feel abandoned and dusty, despite the bustling late-night crowds on the patio.

Fiona checked her notes on her phone as Jake parked the car. This was the place he had last used his credit card, but since Derek wasn't declared missing, there was no reason for the police to have interviewed anyone or gone looking. Fiona hoped this would lead them to what they needed. If Derek really was the first victim, then maybe there was a chance that the killer had slipped up and made mistakes with him somehow. If they were lucky, someone at the restaurant may have seen him.

"He used his card here at seven p.m., three weeks ago," Fiona said to Jake.

"Good, so we have the exact time and date we're looking for," Jake said.

Jake got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Fiona did the same and walked with him through the crowded lot. They entered the Celtic Knot, and Fiona felt her jaw drop at the sight of the interior. The pub tables were occupied, but there was a staging area. There was a band playing in the corner, and couples were dancing on the platform. The lights were dim, making the place feel cozy and romantic.

"This is a lot more exciting than I thought it would be, honestly," Jake said, looking around. "You wouldn't expect to see a Celtic pub in the middle of the Everglades."

Fiona nodded; her mind was on the case still. Was there anywhere in here where the killer would have been able to go without being seen? A filthy storage closet? A hidden staircase? A storage shed or something? "Let's see if we can find anyone who remembers Derek," Fiona suggested. "Surely, the employees might know or have security footage."

The bartender, with his long, dark hair and tattoos, was busy with drinks, but he looked up at them when they stopped to wait.

"Can I help you?" the bartender asked.

"We're looking for any information you might have on a man who was seen in this restaurant over three weeks ago," Jake said, subtly flashing his FBI badge. The bartender gave them a serious look, glancing around.

"Everything okay?" he asked. "The owner's in, if you'd rather talk to him."

Fiona and Jake glanced at each other.

"Sure, that'd be great," Fiona said.

The bartender nodded and disappeared into the back. A few moments later, an older man emerged from the back, his salt and pepper hair cut close to his head and his eyes a steely blue. His face was lined with wrinkles, and he had a thick handlebar mustache. He was wearing a plain red T-shirt and jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, and the way he carried himself told Fiona that he was a no-nonsense type of guy.

"I heard you two were looking for information on a guy," the man said, his voice gruff. "My name's Jack, Jack Hennessy. The bartender said you were FBI."

Fiona and Jake shared another look.

"This is true," Jake said, and Fiona saw him open his wallet to badge the man.

Jack Hennessy studied Jake's badge, his eyes narrowing. "What's this about?"

"Maybe we can talk in private?" Jake asked.

Hennessy nodded, and they followed up away from the chaotic sound of the bar/restaurant to an office in the back.

Hennessy motioned for them to sit in the two chairs in front of his desk, then took his seat behind it. He folded his thick hands together and rested them on the desk.

"Now, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"We're investigating a case," Jake said, taking charge of the conversation. "And we have reason to believe that a man who was last seen here three weeks ago might be connected to it."

Hennessy's face darkened. "What kind of case?"

"A murder case," Fiona said, jumping in. "We're trying to track down a killer, and we think he might have been here."

Hennessy's eyes widened in shock. "What? A killer? Here in my restaurant?"

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