The key to what, Aubrey? The voice again, that chatty little devil who loved to sit on her shoulder and throw spears at her. Clearing your husband’s besmirched name? Resurrecting him for the masses? Or are you doing all this for yourself?
Yes, she wanted to go along. She was so close now. So close to finding out the truth.
It took five minutes to make the walk, mostly uphill, and Aubrey’s legs felt the pleasant burn of exertion. She needed a run, something to clear her head, to help her focus. Running had become a crutch for her, but more than that, it was her sanity.
The doorman greeted them with a smile, and Aubrey realized how they were dressed: she in jeans and a T-shirt, Meghan like a punk rockabilly singer. All in all, they’d probably assume Meghan was the talent and simple, austere Aubrey the assistant. Which -suited her just fine. She was used to Meghan drawing all the attention.
Meghan must have realized it, too, because she put a little extra swing in her hips and added a lascivious wink as they entered the lobby. Always on, that was Meghan for you.
The Oak Bar was downstairs, to the right of the Capitol Grille, nestled in the corner of the hotel, and Meghan led the way. The place was legendary, dark and paneled and quiet, breathing out an air of mystery and charm. Just to be in the Oak Bar was a statement of belonging: to the city, to money, to class.
Aubrey had only been there once.
Josh had taken her for their first wedding anniversary. They’d sat in the corner, eating double-stack cheeseburgers and drinking peaty Scotch until they were legless. It was, as Aubrey recalled, an absolutely perfect evening.
Of course, all evenings with Josh were perfect.
That picture.
The idea of him enjoying someone else’s attentions made her grit her teeth. She realized she was standing still, staring into the room as if she knew she didn’t belong. Meghan was already taking a seat at a table on the far side of the bar, back in the alcove, where they couldn’t be readily seen from the bar’s entrance. Aubrey breathed a sigh a relief; for a moment she’d thought Meghan was going to sit at the table she and Josh had shared seven years ago. She couldn’t have handled that. She could barely manage the memories she had.
Meghan was watching her curiously. Aubrey smiled and started toward the table, noticed Meghan’s attention shift to somewhere behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a man coming up fast. She stopped, thinking to turn and introduce herself, but he came flying by and made a beeline for Meghan.
Meghan stood and said, “Daniel Cutter? I’d like to introduce you to Aubrey Hamilton.”
Cutter stopped short and turned. She could have sworn he looked shocked to see her, but he quickly composed himself and started back her way, hand outstretched.
“Mrs. Hamilton. It is such a pleasure to officially meet you. Let’s sit down, and I’ll tell you what I know, okay?”
Aubrey crossed her arms and sat. Meghan and Cutter ordered food, but she settled for tea; she didn’t think she could handle anything more.
Once the waitress had disappeared, Meghan leaned forward. There was an edge to her voice that Aubrey didn’t recognize. “So, Daniel. What have you found out?”
Aubrey put up her hand. “Can I ask a question before you start?”
Cutter was a stocky guy with a sure jaw and penetrating blue eyes. He turned them on Aubrey. “Of course.”
“Was my husband involved in a drug ring?”
Cutter didn’t move. “How did you come to that conclusion, Mrs. Hamilton?”
Aubrey shook her head. “I was told my husband might have been involved with some less than savory people, from a friend of mine who overheard a jailhouse rumor.”
“Would you mind telling me what you were told?”
“Would you mind telling me if my husband was killed because of a man named Derek Allen?”
Boundaries established, he sat back in his chair. “Your husband was a very interesting man, Mrs. Hamilton.”
Aubrey shook her head. “What does that have to do with Derek Allen?”
“Well, everything and nothing. You see, your husband vanished the same night Mr. Allen was found in an alley in downtown Nashville with a hole in his stomach.”
Aubrey looked over at Meghan, whose mouth was open in a small O.
Aubrey was tired of playing games. “Mr. Cutter. Either tell me what the hell Derek Allen is doing and what his tie is to my husband, or I’m leaving.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. I needed to know if you were up to hearing all of this. Derek Allen was a drug dealer. And, as you already suspect, your husband worked for him.”
Aubrey shook her head. “Impossible.”
“It’s very possible. It’s true, as a matter of fact.”
“And you knew this how?”
“Let’s just say I had an interest in Allen’s business and leave it at that.” He tapped the side of his nose. Aubrey felt Meghan’s body grow very still.
Cutter shrugged. “I’m clean now, Meghan. I’ve been in treatment. I’m working the program, like you always wanted.”