Cold & Deadly (Cold Justice: Crossfire #1)(25)

“We’re trying to track his movements. We won’t cause you any trouble.” Sheridan slid a fifty-dollar bill across the smooth wood. “He’s a friend of ours and we need to know if he met anyone here. It’s important. You have any security footage we might be able to access?”

The server sidled closer with her water jug to block the view of the cash from any observers as she slipped the money into her apron, refilling their glasses with more water as she did. She probably thought they were private investigators looking for evidence of one spouse cheating on another. “I wouldn’t go asking the owner for security footage if I were you.” Her mouth tightened. “He’s not a nice guy.”

Ava exchanged a look with Sheridan.

The waitress looked nervously over her shoulder. “I need to check in with my other tables.”

Sheridan slid a business card across the table. “Call me if you remember anything else.”

Caroline read the card and her skin blanched. “Of course.” She pasted on another big smile, one that failed to reach her eyes this time, and quickly stuffed the card into her apron pocket and walked away.

Obviously, she didn’t like the fact they were Feds, but there were a million reasons why that could be.

“What do you think?” Ava asked Sheridan.

“I think the FBI needs to talk to the manager and take a look at that surveillance footage.”

Which meant him taking the information to Aldrich and the task force and her pretending to not exist. Again. They carried on eating their chicken wings until all that was left was a pile of small bones. Ava licked the salt off her fingers.

They were no further forward than they had been yesterday except for a few more loose ends—like why had Van’s pants been down and why had he come to this bar? Did he even have a specific reason? The slowness of their fact-finding mission frustrated the hell out of her.

Over Sheridan’s shoulder, Ava watched a massive guy wearing a plaid shirt walk up to another guy seated at the bar and tap him on the shoulder. When the man sitting down turned around, the big guy plowed a sledgehammer fist into his face.

“Bar fight.” Ava scanned the area for any other threats.

The injured man wiped a hand over his face, clearly shocked as his fingers came away bloody.

Sheridan slid out of the booth. She followed.

“How’d you like it when someone bigger ’un you picks a fight, asshole?” the big guy shouted, obviously very drunk and very angry.

Awesome combo.

The injured guy swore and scrambled to his feet, using the momentum to land a left hook that made the big guy stagger back into a table full of drinks. People scattered. Beer and wine went everywhere, glasses flying across tabletops and smashing onto the floor.

Bar patrons cleared a space around the brawling men. Some people were getting the hell out of the bar. Others were settling in for the show.

“I don’t start fights, motherfucker,” the man who’d been hit yelled, “but I sure as hell know how to finish them.”

The two men started pounding one another, and Ava rolled her shoulders. Not how she’d planned to end her day.

Sheridan held his badge high and shouted over the din. “FBI. Let’s break this up, fellas.”

The man with the bloody nose took a quick breath. “You see what he did to me?”

The big guy leaned forward. “That’s what happens to assholes who hit women.”

Ava narrowed her eyes on the injured guy who she’d been mentally rooting for until that moment.

“I don’t know squat about what you’re talking about.” He ducked a punch that might well have put him down for good.

“That’s enough!” Sheridan shouted, pushing through the crowd. “Party’s over.”

Sheridan had the larger man in handcuffs before the guy registered his presence, controlling him easily despite his size. Ava watched Sheridan’s back. Sheridan murmured to the man who’d been attacked. “You want to press charges, sir?”

The guy touched his broken nose. “How long would it take?”

“A couple of hours.” Sheridan spoke over the large man’s whining.

“Hell no.”

A man who had to be the manager pushed through.

“Do you want to press charges?” Sheridan asked him.

The manager shook his head. “Just throw him out. You’re banned, buddy,” he shouted after the guy.

Sheridan walked the troublemaker to the door and paused, talking to him in a low, fierce tone.

Ava went back to the table to ask for the check.

When Sheridan reappeared, she asked, “You didn’t arrest him?”

A rueful gleam lit his eyes. “More trouble than he’s worth. The man—Karl Feldman—says he found a woman crying near the restroom. She claimed the guy at the bar smacked her around.”

“Should we try and find her? Get a statement?”

Sheridan downed the last of his water and pointed at the crowd who’d resumed their night out with barely a blink now the excitement was over. “How exactly?”

“By looking for someone who’s been crying?” Ava huffed out a long breath as she looked around. He was right. It was virtually impossible, and the woman might not want to talk to law enforcement even if they identified her.