AVA
Afew minutes later, we’re pulling into the back parking lot behind the bar. Ellis parks, and my anxiety spikes when he puts his gun in his holster that’s tucked underneath his jacket.
“Are you planning on using that?” I ask, shoving the door open.
The scent of freshly fallen rain whisks into the cab.
“No. It’s just protocol.” He extends his hand for the door handle but pauses. “I don’t know if you should go in with me.”
“What? Why not?”
“Think about it. If the bartender is part of this, and he did drug your drink, things could get bad. And I can’t put you at risk.”
“He’s already going to know this has to do with me,” I stress. “And it’s a bar. There are other people in there. At least let me go inside. Maybe it’ll tug at a memory.”
Hesitancy consumes his features. “I don’t know?—”
“I’m going in.” My voice trembles, but I remain firm. I have to do this. I have to try to remember.
Not that the darkness and fog have started to thin, I can’t live blindly in it anymore.
I climb out of the car and shut the door. The puddles soak through my shoes as I wind around the front of the vehicle. My pounding heart is an echo in my head as I wait for Ellis to get out.
He does, then closes the door and locks up the SUV. He pockets the key fob, smooths his hands across the front of his jacket, then lifts his gaze to mine. Uncomfortable silence stretches between us. It’s a first for him and I'm not a fan. Jason and I used to share moments like this, but those were woven with fear, a pause before the thunder following lightning—before he exploded.
This isn’t the same. Ellis is nothing like Jason, something he’s proven and proves again when he says, “I can’t stop you from going in. It’s your choice. But I can’t let you be there while I talk to the bartender since it’s police business.”
I nod. “I understand. And thanks.”
His brows knit. “For what?”
I lift a shoulder. “For respecting my decision to go inside.” I rush toward the bar, feeling exposed for reasons I can’t quite grasp.
His footsteps thud behind me as he follows me. We remain quiet the rest of the walk, but he catches up with me when I arrive at the door.
“Find a table to sit at and wait for me.” The rain is drizzling again, and raindrops dot his face. “And if for some reason, things get bad, run out of the bar and wait for me in my car.” He uses his free hand to dig his key fob from out of his pocket, then places it in my hand. “Don’t hesitate, okay, even if it looks like I’m in trouble.”
I furrow my brows. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“Hopefully nothing.” The doubt that seeps doesn’t do anything to alleviate my nerves.
But it’s not his job to do that. I’m choosing to come in here, so I have to suck it up.
We enter the bar with me going in first and Ellis behind me. Music touches my eardrums, and the scent of wood, stale peanuts, and beer burns my nostrils as I make my way to the table area and take a seat. More people are here than earlier today, and it’s getting late enough that the rowdiness has increased—people are dancing, chatting loudly, and taking shots.
I sit as discreetly as possible, fiddling with a saltshaker that’s on the table while watching Ellis approach the bar. The bartender is the same guy who’s been behind the bar every time I’ve come here over the last week.
Ellis sits down on a barstool and shows the guy his badge. The guy shows a few signs of discomfort, but those are probably not noticeable to anyone who isn’t looking for them. A slight tenseness in his jawline, a drop of paleness to his cheeks, an anxious shift of his weight.
As I sit and wait, I get the inkling I’m being watched. I scan the tables, chairs, and crowd just to make sure no one is. That’s when I see something that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. A flash of long, blonde hair in the crowd that belongs to a woman whose face I can’t see. But her height, weight, and the daisies on her dress…
It looks just like the person in the field last night. And like with the previous night, I find myself wondering…
“Clover.” It’s not possible—I know this.
I saw Clover die, and yet the way this woman dances reminds me so much of how she moved, all carefree and effortless.
I have to see her face.
