“It’s alright. I can handle it,” I offer.
He shakes his head again, tipping his glass to gently tap the rim against mine.
“On to better things. Where are you staying?” he asks.
I don’t show my disappointment, but keep up the conversation, hoping to guide it back to the situation in the town.
“A cabin by the lake in the woods,” I say with a laugh. “Out near Rattlesnake Point.”
“I know where that is. It’s a cute little place from what I’ve seen of it.”
“Well, that brings me to a very important question… are there actually rattlesnakes around here?” I ask.
Jake laughs and shakes his head. “No. You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t know exactly why it has that name, but those cabins up there are nice and quiet, even if they’re usually empty. It’s nice to know someone is giving the place some life. How long are you planning on being here? Or are you just passing through?”
“I’m not sure exactly how long. I don’t have a specific end date in mind. Coming here is kind of a fresh start for me. I’m looking for a re-do in life, I guess you could say. I want somewhere a bit calmer and more peaceful, so I can have some time to think.”
“I hope it’s nothing too terrible you’re getting away from,” he says.
I shake my head. “No. Nothing too bad. Just a relationship that went on longer than it should have and didn’t end on good terms, a dead-end job I hated but hung onto because I didn’t know any better, and a general feeling of not knowing who I am and what I should be doing with my life.”
“I know a little bit about that feeling,” he commiserates. “Frustrating, isn’t it?”
“It definitely is. So, I sold a bunch of things, stuffed everything else in storage, took my savings, and left. I came here on a recommendation, and I’ll see where the wind takes me.”
“Hopefully, it won’t take you very far,” he says.
An unexpected blush warms my cheeks, and I turn to look over my shoulder, pretending to be taking in my surroundings while I wait for my face to cool. When I turn back, Jake is talking to a guy sitting on the other side of the bar, giving me a chance to look him over. His brown hair is long, brushing his shoulders, and his frame is tall and strong, but not overly big. The guy he’s talking to says something, and Jake drops his head back to let out a laugh. The sound is full and round, untethered as he lets it pour out rather than measuring and controlling it the way Greg often did.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Greg right now. Being distracted by his disappearance has already cost me enough. Creagan made it very clear I’m not to try to inject myself into the investigation and to stay back and out of the way of the team already on it. I’m too close to the situation to be an appropriate and valuable part of the force and need to trust the others to do their job. It’s hard but being here should be a way for me to step away from it. Back in the field, I have something to concentrate on and can let my rapid thoughts be productive rather than just filled with questions and worry.
Jake comes back to me. “Hungry?”
“A little,” I nod.
“Savory or sweet?” he asks.
“Sweet,” I tell him.
He winks at me and heads into the kitchen. The wink makes my cheeks burn again, and I down the rest of the beer to chase the feeling away. A few seconds later, the door to the bar opens, and the officer who was working with Nicolas comes in. He glances around, and when we make eye contact, he crosses to me.
“Emma Monroe?” he asks.
The name still sounds strange. I’ll have to talk to Creagan about my undercover names from now on. But I nod.
“Yes. You saw me at the cabin not two hours ago,” I point out.
“I’ve come to tell you it’s safe to go back to the cabin now,” he says, ignoring the comment.
Jake has come out of the kitchen, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice him staring at the officer.
“Safe to go back? What’s going on?” he asks.
“It’s nothing,” I assure him. “Chief LaRoche didn’t want me to go back while they were still processing the scene. But they’ve apparently removed the body.”
A woman eavesdropping on the interaction gasps, and we all look her way.
“Body?” she sputters. “Did you just say body? Someone else has died? Who was it?”
“Did you just say someone else died?” a man asks from the next table.
“It’s happening again?” comes another voice.
“Dear god. No,” says a fourth.
The situation is quickly getting out of hand, and the officer holds up his hands to try to stop them. When they don’t respond, Jake climbs up on a step ladder and lets out a loud, piercing whistle.
“Everybody be quiet. Listen to Barry here.”
A hush falls over the bar, and the officer nods at Jake.
“Thank you, Jake. Now, folks, I don’t want anybody to panic. This isn’t what it sounds like. Yes, there has been a death.” Just the word starts another ripple of reaction moving through the crowd, and he raises his voice slightly. “But we have no reason to believe it has any connection to the others. There is no sign of any link, and according to findings from processing the scene and the medical examiner giving an initial look at the body, it does not seem to have any relation. Everyone is safe. Please, just relax and go back to enjoying your evening.”
The message appeases the crowd, and they dissipate back to their tables and booths. The officer turns back to me.
“I’ll be bringing you back to the cabin now,” he says.
“Actually, I’ll just stay here for a while longer. Thank you, though,” I reply.
“Chief LaRoche gave me clear instructions to find you, make sure you knew it was safe to return to your cabin and bring you back there,” he insists.
“Well, you have found me and made sure I knew. But I don’t need you to bring me. There’s really no reason I need to be doing what he tells me, so I’ll just thank you for the offer, and you can tell him you tried so he knows you were trying to follow his orders,” I tell him.
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but Jake puts his hand on the bar and leans slightly toward him.
“Hey, Barry. Two out of three ain’t bad, buddy. Alright?” he says.
The officer gives a single nod and walks out of the bar. I turn back to Jake and smile at him.
“Thank you, again,” I say. “You are certainly very good at swooping into uncomfortable situations.”
“It’s a gift,” he shrugs. “Actually, it’s a life skill for a bartender. But I’m happy to use it for you anytime you need it.”
He puts a plate down in front of me. A scoop of vanilla bean ice cream melting between two massive chocolate chip cookies, all topped with a mound of whipped cream and just enough of a drizzle of hot fudge. It’s amazing. I can’t stop myself from swirling my finger in it and licking it off.
“This looks incredible,” I marvel.
“Enjoy,” he says.
A few minutes later, Jake comes back up to me and leans to the side, so he rests on his elbow against the bar.
“Things seem to be quieting down,” I tell him.
“Can I take you home?” he offers.
“Look, Jake. I really appreciate you being so welcoming and everything, but…”
“Hey, Jake. Have space to take me home tonight?” a man calls from several feet away.
“Sure thing, Conrad,” he calls back.
“Drop me off on the way?” another asks.
“If you can both fit in my car. Don’t have my truck with me today,” he teases, then looks back at me. “I give rides to people who have been hanging out here and need a way to get home, or who might have had one too many.”