Mike shrugged it off. “The geeks will figure it out. But what I’m saying is, everybody’s been watching the faces in the video when they should’ve been watching the feet.”
Andy’s head was reeling as she tried to process it in her mind’s eye. Was he right? Or was he some kind of Belle Isle truther trying to spread conspiracy theories, and Andy believed him because she so desperately wanted another explanation?
Mike said, “Hey, listen, I gotta go see a man about a dog.”
Andy nodded. She wanted time to think about this. She needed to see the video again.
Mike joked, “Don’t follow me this time.”
Andy didn’t laugh. She watched him head to the back of the bar and disappear down a hallway. The men’s room door squeaked open and banged closed.
Andy rubbed her face with her hands. She was more than tipsy after all of those stupid gulps from the glass. She needed to think about what Mike had said about the diner video. And consider her own guilt, because she had assumed that her mother was a killer. No one, not Andy, not Gordon, had thought for a moment that Laura was trying to do the right thing.
So why hadn’t Laura told that to the cops? Why had she acted so guilty? And where the hell had Hoodie come from? What about the storage unit?
Every time Andy thought something made sense, the world went sideways again.
Andy started to reach for her drink.
Mike had left his phone on the bar.
She had seen his passcode. Six 3s.
The bartender was watching television. The pool players were arguing about a shot. The long hallway was still empty. She would hear the door when Mike came out of the bathroom. She had heard it when he went in.
Andy picked up the phone. She dialed in the 3s. The home screen had a photo of a cat behind it, and weirdly, she thought a man who had his cat on his phone could not be that bad. Andy tapped Safari. She pulled up the Belle Isle Review. The front page had the new photo of Laura at the party, the one she’d seen on CNN. Gordon was not cropped out this time. Andy scanned the story, which was basically the same one that had been there the day before.
She scrolled down for other news. She was more relieved than startled when she saw the headline:
BODY FOUND UNDER YAMACRAW BRIDGE
Andy skimmed the details. Head injury. No ID. Jeans and a black hoodie. Dolphin tattoo on his hip. Found by fishermen. No foul play suspected. Police asking people to come forward with information.
She heard the bathroom door open. Andy closed the browser page. She tapped back to the home screen. She clicked the phone off and had it back on the bar by the time Mike appeared in the hallway.
Andy sipped the vodka.
Unidentified body?
Head injury?
No foul play?
Mike groaned as he sat back on the stool. “Had to lift about sixteen thousand pounds of boulders today.”
Andy murmured in sympathy, but the new story was her focus now. The Yamacraw Bridge spanned the Tugaloo River. How had Hoodie’s body gotten there? Laura couldn’t have taken him herself. Even without the police watching, she only had one good arm and one good leg.
What the hell was going on?
“Hello?” Mike was rapping his knuckles on the bar again, this time for Andy’s attention. “Past my bedtime. I gotta big job to start tomorrow. Want me to walk you to your car?”
Andy didn’t think it was a good idea to stay in the bar alone. She looked around for the bartender.
“He’ll put it on my tab.” Mike tucked his phone into his pocket. He indicated Andy should go ahead of him. He kept his distance until she got to the door, then he reached ahead to hold it open.
Outside, the heat was only slightly less awful than before. Andy would take another shower before she went to bed. Maybe she would crank down the a/c and climb into the sleeping bag. Or maybe she would climb into the Reliant because wasn’t it still weird that she had met Mike here, of all places? And that he was telling her things that she wanted to hear? And that he had walked her out of the bar, which meant he would know where she was going next?
Knepper Knippers. There was lawn equipment in the back of the truck—a weedeater, a leaf blower, some rakes and a shovel. Streaks of dirt and grass were on the side panels. Mike had been in the bar when she got there, not the other way around. His truck was clearly used for lawncare purposes. He had a driver’s license with his name on it. He had a tab at the bar, for the love of God. Either he was a clairvoyant psychopath or Andy was losing her mind.
He patted the truck. “This is me.”
She said, “I like the grasshopper.”
“You’re beautiful.”
Andy was taken off guard.
He laughed. “That was weird, right? I just met you. I mean, really met you. And we flirted with each other in a bar and it was nice but it’s still kind of strange that we’re both here at the same time, right?”
“You keep saying things that I’m thinking in my head, but you say them like they’re normal instead of something I should be worried about.” Andy wanted to clap her hands over her mouth. She had not meant to say any of that out loud. “I should go.”
“All right.”
She didn’t go. Why had he called her beautiful?
“You’ve got—” he reached to pick something out of her hair. A piece of fuzz from the cheap motel towel.
Andy wrapped her hand around his, because apparently, Hand-fetish Andy was also a hell of a lot bolder than normal Andy.
“You really are so damn beautiful.” He said it like he was in awe. Like he meant it.
Andy leaned her head into his hand. His palm was rough against her cheek. The neon lights from the bar caught the umber in his eyes. She wanted to melt into him. It felt so damn good to be looked at, to be touched, by somebody. By this body. By this weird, attractive man.
And then he kissed her.
Mike was tentative at first but then her fingers were in his hair and the kissing got deeper and suddenly all of Andy’s nerves went collectively insane. Her feet left the ground. He backed her into the truck, pressed hard against her. His mouth was on her neck, her breasts. Every single inch of Andy’s body wanted him. She had never been so overcome with lust. She reached down to stroke him with her hand, and—
“Keychain,” he said.
He was laughing, so Andy laughed, too. She’d felt up the keychain in his front pocket.
Her feet went back to the ground. They were both breathing hard.
She leaned in to kiss him again, but Mike turned away.
He said, “I’m sorry.”
Oh, God.
“I’m just—” His voice was rough. “I—”
Andy wanted to disappear into the ether. “I should—”
He pressed his fingers to her mouth to stop her. “You really are so beautiful. All I could think about in there was kissing you.” His thumb traced across her lips. He looked like he was going to kiss her again, but he took a step back and tucked his hand into his pocket instead. “I’m really attracted to you. I mean, obviously, I’m attracted to you, but—”
“Please don’t.”
“I need to say this,” he told her, because his feelings were the most important thing right now. “I’m not that guy. You know, the one who picks up women in bars and takes them to the parking lot and—”
“I wasn’t going to,” Andy said, but that was a lie because she’d been about to. “I didn’t—”
“Could you—”
Andy waited.
Mike didn’t finish his sentence. He just shrugged and said, “I should go.”
She kept waiting for more because she was stupid.
“Anyway.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and looped the keychain around his fingers. And then he laughed.
Please don’t make a joke about me giving your keychain a handjob.
He said, “I could—I mean, I should walk you to—”