I glanced at my watch. “It’s early afternoon. Do you think he’ll be there?”
Zack shrugged. “It’s the best lead I’ve got.”
We drove in silence, anxiety gnawing a hole in my chest with every kilometer we traveled. The journey took less than fifteen minutes but felt like hours. In my head I’d run through every scenario I could imagine, but each one ended up the same. Zack beating Barry to a bloody pulp. Zack being arrested.
The pub car park was quiet, and we went silently, hand in hand, into the shabby building. I’d never been there before. From the outside, it looked like a quiet bar on the end of a row of shops. I swallowed, trying to ease my dry throat. Ever since we’d walked into Marnie’s house, a heavy weight had taken residence in my chest, and I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.
We stopped, just inside the doorway. Half a dozen elderly men were clustered around a wide-screen TV, watching a cricket match. The low buzz of conversation was relaxed, and the plump middle-aged woman wiping the bar top looked bored. I let out my breath, my heart pounding. He wasn’t here.
Zack strode to the bar, his movements rough and jerky. “I’m looking for Barry Lafferty. I heard he drinks here.”
The barmaid’s gaze swept up and down him, and her lips thinned into a scowl. “Not anymore, he doesn’t. He’s barred.” She nodded toward a broken window, patched with brown parcel tape. “He needs to pay for damages, too. Is he a friend of yours?”
“He owes me something.” Zack’s voice was cold, and I inched closer to him. “Any idea where he might be?”
“None at all.” She slapped the damp cloth onto the counter. “If you find him, let me know.”
“What happened?” I broke into the conversation.
Her gaze swiveled to me. “He was in here two nights ago, completely off his head, and I refused to serve him. He picked a fight with my husband when we asked him to leave, and next thing he’s smashing the place up. The window, the mirror we had behind the bar, and a row of glassware. He owes me close to four hundred bucks. I threatened to call the police, and that’s when he left.”
“On foot?” Zack snapped, “or did he go with someone?”
“In his truck. I can only hope the police caught him for driving under the influence.”
There was nothing else to learn, and we went back to my car. Zack gripped the wheel with both hands and stared outside, his eyes unfocused.
“What the fuck did she ever see in him?” He finally looked at me, pain flooding his eyes.
“How about family? Does he have parents around here?”
He shook his head. “Maybe a remote cousin, but no parents or siblings.” He blew out a short breath. “His friends are next. I’ve got a list, and we’ll check them, one by one.”
I tried to crack a smile, but it was difficult. “How have you got all this information? You must have some formidable contacts.”
Zack shrugged. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head to the wheel. “Jesus. That wasn’t even slightly funny.” He peeked up at me. “Sorry, Hol. Very bad taste.”
“I could ask Sam if you like, he knows pretty much everyone in the area.” At Zack’s raised eyebrow, I continued. “He’s the landlord for your rental. Don’t ask me how, but he knows all the local gossip. I figure he has friends on the police force.”
“Sure. What have we got to lose?”
…
We spent the next three hours driving to each address on Zack’s list. The day was drifting away, the afternoon spent, and evening beckoning, and we continued to ask as many of Barry’s friends as we could find. They all denied seeing him in the past two days. One suggested a different bar, but that was another fruitless trip. I could only hope that Sam might be able to help after all.
I’d always liked Sam, without ever knowing much about him. He was a permanent fixture in the tiny beachside community. Rumors abounded. He’d been in the Special Forces. He was an ex-CIA agent. Olympic athlete. His age could have been anywhere between thirty and forty, and as for his love life…that was as much a mystery. He lived alone at the top of the beach, but the grapevine was convinced he had a wife, one who never visited, or had ever been seen.
We’d just come out of yet another shabby bar when he finally called me back. I put my phone on speaker, to share the conversation with Zack.
“Hey, Holly, do you have Zack with you now?” Sam’s baritone was calm and relaxed.
“Yes, he’s here.”
“Zack, I’m very sorry for your loss. Your sister was a lovely girl, and I’ll miss her. And not just because she made the best coffee this side of Wellington.”
Zack tipped his head. “Thank you.” His voice was clipped. “I need to find Barry Lafferty. Do you have any idea where he might be? I only have tonight to speak to him.”
“I’m not sure. He doesn’t have any family as far as I know, and I guess you’ve checked his work?”
“Yeah.” Zack sighed. “I didn’t think you’d be able to help, but thanks anyway.” He sat back in the car and rubbed at his temples. Lines of tiredness cut across his forehead. He must be exhausted.
“I didn’t say that.” Sam’s voice snagged my attention. “I can make some inquiries. I’ll let Holly know if I find anything.”
“Thanks, Sam.” I terminated the call and reached out to catch Zack’s hand.
He gave me a weary smile. “I just feel so fuckin’ useless. Like everything I believed in was wrong. I was on the other side of the world, breaking up fights over land that had nothing to do with me, while my baby sister needed me. The one person I should have protected. I let her down, Hol. Let her down so fucking badly.” He swallowed hard and stared down at our linked hands.
Tears pressed at my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. If he’d carved a hole in my belly with a rusty knife, it couldn’t have hurt any more. How could he blame himself?
“I failed her,” he whispered, untangling our hands. “I fucking failed her.”
Chapter Nineteen
Zack scrambled out of the car, the door swinging shut. I stared. He paced up and down, hands in his pockets, head bent. Should I go to him? He must want to be alone. I sat, frozen in an agony of uncertainty. When he leaned against the back of my car and dropped to the ground, I finally galvanized myself.
He sat on the dusty car park, and I climbed out and then went to crouch next to him. “What can I do?”
His pain-filled face twisted my stomach in fresh knots. “It was bad enough, knowing she was gone.” He swallowed and glanced down. When he looked back up at me, his face was shuttered, remote and cool. “I wish I’d never spoken to your brother. I think I would have rather not known this.” He continued, his voice a dull monotone. “I could have gone back to Afghanistan and lived with the thought she’d had an accident. A tragic fuckin’ accident.” He blew out a short breath. “But this? Knowing that bastard probably killed her. Hurt her. Abused my baby sister. And I never fucking knew. That’s what I can’t live with, Hol.”
My knees were trembling so hard, I had to stand up and turn away.
I’d known, as soon as Jas broke the ugly truth, that everything would change. If Zack ever saw me again, even just across a crowded street, he’d look the other way. He’d forever associate me with this ugliness.
When my parents died, one of our neighbors had been lovely and kind. She’d bent over backward to help us, assisting my grandmother with the funeral arrangements, looking after Jas and myself for hours at a time. For years afterward I couldn’t even bear to speak to her. She represented the lowest part of my life, and I couldn’t untangle her in my mind from the events she was connected with. I knew Zack would feel the same about me.
I swallowed, sucked in a ragged breath, and tried to compose myself. I couldn’t leave him there, his heart breaking while he blamed himself.