CHAPTER 36
Chapter Title: Drunk on Cole (Part 2)
Kathy
For someone drunk, Cole was answering my questions really well. Too well. His words didn’t slur the way they should have. He was holding something back—drunk lips were supposed to sink ships, but his? They skimmed just enough off the surface to make me wonder how deep the rest went.
“What happened when that second SUV showed up?” I pressed, leaning closer. The diner’s fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, flickering like they knew something I didn’t. The air had grown heavier with the smell of coffee and fried eggs, wrapping the booth in a greasy kind of intimacy.
Cole blinked slowly, his eyes glassy but steady. “I told Emma to call Hank and her dad right away. Figured they’d know what to do. Then I jumped in my car and tried to chase the first SUV. Didn’t get far—lost it in traffic. I called the police station too, left an anonymous tip.”
The anonymous caller. It had been him. My gut clenched, gears in my brain locking together. A loose puzzle piece just snapped into place.
“Why call the station if Emma was already calling her dad?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral, almost bored. But inside, I was all sharp edges, watching his face like it was a crime scene.
Cole shifted, squirming in his seat. His hand came up, rubbing at his temple as though he could knead sobriety into himself. “It was the Stars and Stripes Fest, you know? Total chaos. All the bigwigs—Chief Morgan included—were off at their fancy parties, sipping champagne and shaking hands. I figured Emma’s call would just sit in voicemail hell, so I made mine to be sure someone heard it.”
Not bad reasoning for a guy who smelled like a distillery. Smarter than he looked, and certainly smarter than he wanted me to think.
I tilted my head, studying him the way I’d studied witnesses on the stand—look too long, and they’d fold under the silence. “How long have you known Hank?”
“Since we were kids,” he said, and for a second a softer version of him appeared—his lips twitching with a faint smile, like a memory had snuck in before he could chase it away. “Best friends. Used to spend summers surfing, sneaking beers, raising hell. You know how it is.”
I didn’t. I’d grown up with rules and curfews so sharp they could cut skin. But I let him think I did. “Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt him? Or Kimberly?”
My voice stayed calm, but my fingers betrayed me, tightening around the chipped mug of coffee until the handle bit into my palm.
Cole’s lip disappeared between his teeth. He was wrestling something ugly, and the booze was making him sloppy at hiding it. “I-I can’t do this,” he muttered, pushing himself up from the booth.
Before I could blink, Archer’s hand pressed him back down. Smooth, casual strength, all charm on the surface but steel underneath. "Don't," Archer said, his voice light, like he was inviting Cole to stay for dessert, but his eyes flashed something darker: stay put.
Cole swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing hard. “Okay, fine. Look, there’s one person. She’s been hung up on Hank since we were kids. Like… obsessed. Kimberly showing up? That didn’t sit well with her.”
A sharp jolt went through me, like my heart had kicked against my ribs. “Who?”
Cole leaned forward, his whisper so faint I had to lean into the stale diner air to catch it. “Allison.”
Ace coughed—too sharp, too loud. A warning. My eyes flicked to him, but it was Cole’s expression that caught me. His pupils wide with dread, like saying the name had cracked open a grave he didn’t want disturbed.
“She was shocked too when that second SUV pulled up,” Cole rushed, tripping over his words, scrambling to soften what he’d unleashed. “Swear to God, she looked freaked out. She wasn’t in on it or anything.”
“Did Allison do anything to help find Kimberly?” Archer asked, his voice smooth but cold, like a knife sliding through butter.
Cole shook his head, shoulders sagging. “No. She said she had somewhere to be. Took off right after.”
My jaw tightened, muscle twitching in my neck. Allison Reed was starting to sound like more than just a bystander.
And not just some girl with a crush. Not anymore.
“One last thing,” I clipped, words sharp as a scalpel. “Where does Allison live?”
Cole’s resistance was unraveling fast. “Penthouse above Lace and Timber,” he slurred, the alcohol finally dragging him under again. “But she’s out of town. Left right after Kimmie went missing, I think.”
I slid a crisp business card across the sticky Formica. The weight of it landed like a judgment. “Call me if you remember anything else. Preferably when you’re not drowning in rum.”
He looked at me like he wanted to confess something else, something heavier, but then he swallowed it, tucking the card clumsily into his pocket. He staggered to his feet, his steps uneven as he stumbled back toward his friends. They cheered, raising fries like trophies, the whole diner carrying on as though we hadn’t just cracked open a vein of secrets.
Archer’s voice called after him, teasing but edged with cruelty. “Breakfast’s on me, Cole! Try not to redecorate the floor on your way out.”
Then Archer turned back to me, grin wide and wicked, the kind that could get a girl into trouble. “So, Special Agent Hastings. Got one of those cards for me too?”
I arched an eyebrow, leaning back. “Why would you need one?”
His eyes glittered with mischief. “Maybe I’ll stumble across something you’ll want to know. I’m good at finding things.”
“Just ask for her number already,” Ace muttered into his coffee, his tone sour and flat. “Quit dancing around it.”
Archer’s grin deepened, and he winked. “See? Baby brother’s jealous. Told you I’m the fun one.”
Before I could fire back, Alice swept in, balancing plates that smelled like comfort and childhood. Bacon crisped to perfection, eggs golden and fluffy, pancakes stacked sky-high, dripping butter and syrup. The aromas wrapped the booth in warmth, almost enough to soften the razor edges of our conversation. Almost.
Archer slid in beside Ace like he’d always belonged there, movements smooth, claiming space that wasn’t his. He poured himself coffee from the battered pot, while Ace’s glare could’ve curdled cream.
A thought sparked in my mind, sharp and sudden. With Archer around, Ace couldn’t pull any of his usual tricks—no flirty kisses, no smooth distractions, no shielding his buddy Divine Williamson. Archer might not be on my side for the right reasons—his motives were about as pure as the diner’s day-old coffee—but he’d keep things honest. Or at least keep Ace in check.
I stabbed bacon with my fork, crunching through the edge. “Ace and I are heading to Ocean City later today. Want to come along?”
“Hastings—” Ace’s tone snapped like a leash yanked too hard, all warning. He knew exactly what kind of chaos I’d invited.
“I’m in,” Archer cut in smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine. His grin stretched lazy, satisfied, like he’d already won a bet. “What time we leaving?”
“Nine,” I said, sipping coffee that tasted like burnt tar but kept me sharp. “I’ve got something to handle first.”
“Perfect.” Archer leaned back, arms stretching along the booth until his sleeve brushed Ace’s shoulder. Ace stiffened, jaw clenching tight enough to crack enamel. Archer smirked, twisting the knife. “We’re taking my car, by the way.”
“No, we’re not,” Ace snapped, every word tight as piano wire. “We’re taking mine.”
Archer snorted, rolling his eyes. “That shoebox you drive? Come on. Mine’s got legroom. You’ll thank me.”
The diner door jingled again. A man in dark coveralls stepped inside, his boots thudding against the linoleum. His gray hair curled damp from the mist outside, his face weathered, shadowed, a man shaped by work and silence.
“Dorsey,” Archer called out, his voice bright. He slid out of his seat and moved beside me, dropping down so close that his thigh brushed mine under the table. A jolt of heat shot through me, sudden and unwelcome, like a spark from a frayed wire.
I didn’t move. Neither did he.
Ace noticed. His knuckles went white around his coffee mug, his fist trembling with the urge to break something—maybe Archer’s face. His dark eyes burned, flicking between us.
Archer leaned in closer, his lips brushing the edge of my awareness, his voice a low murmur meant only for me. His breath carried coffee and mint. “Told you, Katherine—I’m the fun one.”
And damn it, my body reacted before my brain could stop it. My skin prickled where his thigh pressed mine. My pulse thudded in betrayal.
I gripped my fork tighter, stabbing bacon like it was evidence. Focus. Coffee. Case files. Anything but the heat crawling up my neck.
Ace and Archer?
What the hell have I gotten myself into?