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At a quarter to seven that evening, Cassie stood across the street from Ronnie's bar, the grimiest and most unpopular dive in town, waiting for Barnes to enter before her. She watched him show up just as early, peering around before opening one of the double doors and disappearing inside. She followed him in a few moments later, locating him easily and sliding into the corner booth opposite him.
"You're early," Barnes noted without looking up, jotting down some notes in his book.
"Yeah, well I have no time to waste," she said, twining her fingers on the formica tabletop. "So, what is this so-called information you have for me?"
Barnes looked up at her and smiled, making his dark features and five o'clock shadow seem all the more attractive. Cassie pushed away her thoughts and focused on her task.
"I thought we'd have a drink first," Barnes said, signaling the waitress.
"I never drink on the job," Cassie replied curtly.
Barnes laughed and leaned forward to meet her halfway across the tabletop. The sole lightbulb suspended from the ceiling illuminated his eyes. "Do you ever relax?" he asked, the waitress reappearing with his amber drink.
"Not when a murderer is running loose on my watch."
Barnes nodded approvingly. "You're very devoted to your work. Detective Samson could learn a thing or two from you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged. "Samson is often more concerned with covering his own ass than he is finding the perps responsible for their crimes."
Cassie bristled. "I didn't come here for you to slander my mentor, Barnes."
"Call me Drew. And I'm sorry, but it's the truth."
"I'm interested in other truths, Drew. Why don't you tell me what you know so I can go find this bastard and lock him up before he kills anyone else?"
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