Silent Scream (63 page)

Jeff whistled. “Spendy.” Then he frowned. “Do we know this guy?”

The “we” was understood—it included every cop that hung at Sal’s. Eighty percent of Sal’s customers were police, which made
the bar one of the safest places in town. An ex-cop, Sal was one of their own, and by extension so was everyone on Sal’s payroll.
It was like having a hundred big brothers. Which was pretty nice, Eve thought.

“I don’t think so,” Callie demurred. Her date was a defense attorney, which earned him poor opinion among their cops. Callie
agreed, which was precisely why she’d accepted the date. Callie’s constant challenge of her own worldview was something Eve
had always admired. “But he’s late, so I’m trying to get Eve to take this little quiz.”

“Is that that
MSP
rag with Jack Phelps on the cover?” Jeff asked, his lip curled.

MSP
was the women’s magazine that juggled Minneapolis–St. Paul gossip, culture, and local concerns. Their recent exposé on the
homicide squad had made instant, if temporary, celebrities of Sal’s regulars. It was a decent piece, although it did make
their cops into white knights, a fact that had embarrassed the hell out of the detectives.

Jeff gave Eve a pitying look. “My wife made me take that damn quiz.”

Eve’s lips twitched. “Did you pass?”

“Of course. A man can’t stay happily married without knowing how to BS his way through one of those things.” With a parting
wink, he carried the beer back to his waiting friends, all off-duty cops who made Sal’s their home away from home.

Callie rolled her eyes when Jeff was gone. “If he spent half the time he’s here with his wife, he wouldn’t
have had to BS his way through this ‘damn quiz,’ ” she muttered.

“Don’t judge,” Eve murmured, dumping two shots of gin over ice. “Jeff’s wife works second shift at the hospital. When he’s
on days, he hangs here, then takes her home.”

Callie frowned. “What about their kids? Who’s watching them?”

“No kids.” But not from lack of trying, Jeff had confided one night when the bar was empty and he’d had a little too much
to drink. The stress had nearly torn his marriage apart. Eve understood his pain far more than Jeff had realized. Far more
than she’d ever let anyone see. Even Callie. “I guess his house is kind of quiet.”

Callie sighed. “What else should I know so I don’t put my foot in my mouth again?”

Eve tried to think of something she could share without breaking a confidence. She wouldn’t tell Callie about the cop at Jeff’s
table who was worried his wife was leaving him, or the policewoman at the end of the bar, just diagnosed with breast cancer.

So many secrets
, Eve thought. Listening, keeping their secrets, was a way she could help them while she worked on her master’s in counseling.
If she ever made it through her damn thesis she’d be a therapist, trading one listening career for another.

But I’ll miss this place
. She’d miss Sal and his wife, Josie, who’d given her a chance to work, to support herself in the new life she’d started in
Minneapolis. She’d miss Jeff and all the regulars, who’d become more like friends than customers.

Some she’d miss more than others, she admitted. The one she’d miss most never came in on Sundays, but that
didn’t stop her eyes from straying to the door every time the bell jingled. Watching Noah Webster come through the door still
caught her breath, every time. Tall, dark. Powerful.
Look, but don’t touch
. Not anymore. Probably not ever again.