Crimson Lies

Chapter Five

Roseanne

The bar was in an upscale DC hotel just a block from my father's apartment. I'd given myself permission to go out, get drunk and spend the weekend recovering, something I hadn't done since I finished law school. It was a Friday night in November and the place was dimly lit and packed by what looked like some weird engineering convention. I grabbed an empty stool at the end of the bar. I slipped out of my coat and draped it over my knees, ordered a shot of McClelland's.

"Thanks."

I raised my glass in a toast to my sister and knocked back the drink. I'd put on make-up and changed into a black cocktail number so they'd think I was meeting someone for dinner and be less likely to throw me out before I hit my limit. I needed something to make me forget and sitting alone in my apartment with a bottle of scotch seemed even more pathetic than surrounding myself with strangers. I had friends in the city but I didn't want to see anyone-not tonight.

Eighteen years ago tonight, I had gone to bed and by the time I'd woken up, my life, and that of many others, had been destroyed. Why had the bastard taken Payton and not me? Had I said or done something to put my sister at risk? Was it my fault, or just blind luck?

I had been a sleepwalker-had I been gone when the kidnapper arrived?-then climbed back into bed and slept on in childish oblivion? Had I unlocked the front door? Let someone into the house? I didn't know. Couldn't remember. The night was blocked from my memory. All I remembered was waking up and Payton being gone. I raised my finger to the bar man who gave her a nod while he dealt with another customer.

Festive lights twinkled and Michael Bublé sang "Jingle Bells." If I'd had my weapon I'd have blasted the sound system into a thousand component parts.

I sipped the next drink and it scorched my throat. When that was finished, I switched to a white wine spritzer before the bar man cut me off. I wanted to get drunk but I didn't want to be unconscious. Not yet anyway.

In the space of one week, her nice orderly progression through the ranks of the FBI had been turned on its head. I'd been burglarized, managed to upset my mother, and I was being sent into a new job for the express purpose of spying on my colleagues and figuring out if one of them was in league with a killer and therefore a potential candidate for Death Row.

Great.

It was not a way to make friends and I was sadly lacking in friends these days. Someone brushed against me as they took the stool beside me. I set my teeth and narrowed my eyes as I stared into the bubbles in my wine. If someone tried to pick me up I was going to hurt them.

"I didn't expect to see you in DC, Special Agent Park."

Blinking in surprise, I turned to see Lisa Manoban sitting beside me. My heart gave a panicked little flutter. Not now. Not tonight.

But why not tonight? Everything else was messed up, why not this?

Screw it. I raised my glass in salute and took a big gulp. "My plans unexpectedly changed. Do you come here often, Ms. Manoban?" There was a bitter edge to my tone. I was unaccountably glad to see her, but I didn't want company for tonight's meltdown. I just wanted mindless oblivion. No interested bystanders.

"Sometimes." She shrugged. She looked different today. Still gorgeous, but not in a businesswoman way. A black T-shirt molded well-defined muscles and well-worn jeans hugged the rest. My eyes traveled over her as she ordered a beer. A tattoo peeked just beneath the edge of her sleeve. She looked like the soldier she'd once been rather than the security consultant she now was. She caught my eye, expression serious. "Do you mind if I sit here?"