Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(18)

Conor leaned over the bar. “Hi there, what can I get you?”

“Club soda.” She claimed the stool, the snugness of her skirt making the effort more of an undignified hop than the smooth slide she’d intended.

“Are you sure? We have a decent wine list and a few really good craft beers.”

“Club soda is fine.”

He reached for a glass. “Everything all right? I mean, except for your missing friend.”

She nodded, unwilling and unable to articulate her distress over her father’s call.

Setting her soda on a napkin in front of her, he scanned her face. “Dinner?”

“No, thank you.”

He frowned. His attention flickered to another customer. “I’ll be back. The crowd’ll thin in an hour or so. Then we’ll have some time to talk. Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat while you wait?”

“I’m OK.” She watched him and sipped her soda. She envied his ease with people, the comfortable way he conversed as he worked. People responded to him. Women flirted. Men joked.

A petite but voluptuous young waitress set a plate in front of Louisa.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t order anything,” she protested.

The waitress shrugged. “Conor said to bring you a club sandwich.”

She turned to catch his gaze, but he ignored her, seemingly on purpose.

She hadn’t wanted food, but the scents of french fries and bacon tantalized her nostrils. She ate a fry, then another, then bit into the sandwich. Her mouth was full when Conor drifted over and refilled her glass. He’d timed that well. He glanced at the plate, gave her a know-it-all smirk, and sauntered away.

By seven thirty, the work crowd had thinned. The bar was still busy, but the waitress’s trips back and forth to the kitchen slowed. Sports fans clustered around the hockey game that played on hanging TVs.

Conor propped an elbow on the bar and rested his chin in one palm. “So how was your day?”

The indelicate snort that burst from her lips shocked her. She covered her mouth with a knuckle. “Long. Yours?”

He gave her a small, wry smile. “Same here.”

She was tempted to tell him about her father’s call. What would it be like to have someone to confide in at the end of the day? But she couldn’t get the words out. Face it. Sharing her emotions was a new endeavor. She’d have to start slowly. “How did it go with the police?”

He lifted a shoulder. “OK, I guess. They weren’t here long. Asked for a copy of the surveillance tapes and left.”

“Is that good?”

“Beats me.” But suspicion lingered in his eyes. “You didn’t hear from them?”

“No. I haven’t heard anything about Zoe.” She chewed her lip. “God, I hope she’s all right.”

Conor reached across the bar and rested his hand over hers. “I know.”

A shadow fell across Louisa. Conor straightened. She twisted on the stool. Detectives Jackson and Ianelli were behind her.

Jackson presented Conor with a stack of folded papers. “Conor Sullivan, we have a search warrant for the bar, your apartment, and your car. We’re also taking you to the police station for questioning.”



They couldn’t think he . . .

But Conor could see in Jackson’s eyes that they did.

Conor was a suspect. They thought he did something to Zoe.

He focused on the senior detective, meeting his shrewd brown eyes with a direct stare.

The cop motioned to the uniforms behind him. “Get started.” More cops flooded into the bar. Jackson turned to Conor. “We’ll need the keys to your apartment and car.”

Conor flipped through the search warrant. There was a basic description of Zoe. Fingerprints, blood, fibers, DNA, weapons, other trace evidence, weapons, the list went on. He skimmed through the legalese. In summary, the cops were looking for Zoe or evidence that might lead to a possible suspect in her abduction. Seeing no options, he handed the keys over.

“Before you go into the apartment, I’d like to get my dog out,” Conor said. “I haven’t had her long. I’m not sure if she’ll bite if she feels threatened.” He doubted it, but he didn’t want her frightened.

The cop nodded.

Conor turned to Louisa. “Would you hold on to her? Pat can’t take her to his house.”

“Of course,” she said.

“Dr. Hancock.” Jackson’s gaze darted between Conor and Louisa with suspicion.

Pat hurried over. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it’d be best to close up.” Conor walked toward the back door with Jackson right on his tail. Upstairs, the cop watched him open his door, grab the leash, and snap it to the dog’s collar. He led her downstairs and handed the leash to Louisa. “Thank you.”

The dog cowered against Louisa’s calves.

Jackson pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “Now we’re going to the police station.”

Conor swallowed his shock and found his voice. “Would you find me a lawyer, Pat?”

White-faced, Pat pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Jaynie. Maybe Reed can help.”

Jayne’s fiancé was a former cop.

The cop pushed Conor through the doorway by the elbow and paraded him through the bar.