Cold & Deadly (Cold Justice: Crossfire #1)(24)

“Maybe he met someone here.” Sheridan’s dark blue eyes connected with hers. The conversation with the neighbor flashed unspoken between them.

She looked away and scanned the crowd. “Most men I know would not blow their brains out after a blow job.”

Remembering the scene and the photographs of Van’s body she felt sick. She thrust her plate away. She shouldn’t have read the autopsy report, but she’d been so sure the investigators had missed something obvious, something she’d spot immediately. She closed her eyes at the image that flashed through her mind. Some things you could never unsee.

“It’s okay to be upset,” he said softly.

“Thanks for the permission,” she snapped and then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. It’s just so…” She swallowed hard.

“I know. I get it.” The depth of his understanding made her feel small and petty for lashing out. “Van was a good man. He deserved better than what happened to him. However he died, he deserved better.”

She nodded, unable to speak now. Maybe this was why Sheridan was a top negotiator. Apparently, he could talk to people about anything. Even the prickly and temporarily insane.

A sense of loneliness and isolation overwhelmed her. She missed Van, she missed her mom and her siblings who lived clear across the country. Most of her friends were there too. Van had filled a million gaps in her life. He’d helped shape her decisions for so long, and now he was gone. It didn’t seem fair to lose him.

Losing her father had been a graphic and terrifying experience. Losing Van felt worse. Maybe because she’d known Van longer, or because it had just happened. She took a drink of her beer, and Sheridan let the silence ride. Slowly the tightness in her throat eased.

Being lonely sucked, but it was still better to be alone than involved with someone who wasn’t completely right for you. She hadn’t met anyone even vaguely right yet, and at twenty-six, she was starting to wonder if she ever would.

Sheridan let her wallow as he devoured more wings. “Even if there was someone with him before he died, I’m still leaning towards him taking his own life,” he admitted. “He was too good an agent to be taken unaware.”

“I could pull my gun and shoot you dead right now.”

His mouth twitched in amusement. “Is that a threat, Agent Kanas?”

She pinched her lips over the reluctant grin that wanted to escape. “You know what I mean. If you aren’t expecting it and the other party is planning something, they can get the drop on you easily.”

He frowned at her.

She sounded like a nut job. “Why would he shoot himself?”

“Who knows why people kill themselves,” he said bitterly. “Maybe because of the guilt?”

“Guilt?”

“That he’d betrayed Jessica.”

His dead wife.

“I know he loved his wife. He spoke about her all the time.” Ava still didn’t buy it. She tapped her fingernail against the thick, green glass of the bottle. “If the guilt was strong enough that he’d kill himself over screwing around on her, why screw around in the first place?”

“Men can be pretty weak in the face of temptation.” His gaze dropped to her lips but then he glanced away, so quickly she was sure she’d imagined it. “He was pretty religious.”

She shook her head. “The church doesn’t care—it’s until death do us part, not for all eternity. Why commit the ultimate sin when he’d knew he’d end up in purgatory? Why not confess and do penance like all the other Catholics?”

Sheridan frowned. “You’re right. It doesn’t fit with the man I knew, but if he’d been drinking…”

The server came up to them again with a big jug of water. She refilled Dominic’s glass.

“Another beer?” The server pointed a finger at Ava.

“No, thanks.” One was her limit when driving.

Sheridan picked through his wallet and showed a photograph to the woman. “You ever see this guy in here?”

Ava leaned over Sheridan’s arm. He didn’t move away. It was a photo of him and Van at a ball game. The grip around her throat tightened. Some of the things she’d said to him had been unfair. He’d clearly loved the guy.

The server’s eyes widened for a moment in a flash of recognition. “Maybe. He looks familiar.”

“Were you working last week?” Ava strove to sound casual.

“I worked three shifts. Tuesday, Friday, Saturday. I’m in grad school and need the extra cash.”

“Do you remember seeing this guy in here last Tuesday night?” Sheridan asked quietly.

The waitress eyed the photograph of Van and frowned. “I’ve definitely seen him around, but I’m not sure when.” She glanced back up. “The shifts all start to blur together after a while.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Who else was working last Tuesday?” Ava aimed for casual but failed if Sheridan’s frown was anything to go by.

Caroline divided a look between them. “Is he missing or something?”

“He’s a friend.” Sheridan gave her a nod that was technically the truth.

The woman hadn’t recognized Van despite the news coverage, and Ava blanked her expression. She wasn’t about to give away the fact that Van was dead.