ind the bar, grab

ver, leaning aga

hear. "Heard anything, Jake? That woman they ca

gleamed w

keeping my voi

t on the polished wood. "Doesn't your fiancée, Chlo

, "Could be anyone, really. L

faltered for a

expected me to bring Chloe

red quick

r something." He waved a dismissive hand. "You should

me, to make me look wo

fine,"

cated by that angry wife. You know, e

was Emily. So eage

knew she was already

hink what

grave, one shovelful

nt, then, seemingly frustrated

said, a new, self-important tone in his v

rds Mr. Hender

hat he w

that my girlfriend was

esponsible, and me loo

ct. L