“Love you, dear.” Her mother hung up the phone.
“Dad, still there?”
“Yes. Listen to me: I want you to go straight to the police. I still have friends at the department.”
“I can’t do that. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I need to track down the two women from the bar so I have witness testimony against Kline.”
“I’d feel better if you got an emergency restraining order. Isn’t Judge Mallory still around? Maybe Gloria Vela? She’s an old battle-ax; she’ll grant one.”
“Yes,” Tina answered. “Judges Mallory and Vela are still active. But I want to do this my way.”
“Why? There’s nothing to prove, Valentina. You’re beautiful, strong, and incredibly tenacious. Let me help.”
Tina motioned for Jefferson to wait while she finished up her chat. “Trust my judgment, Dad. Okay? I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She disconnected. “Did you have fun at the store?” She eyed the bag in Jefferson’s hand.
“Like chocolate?”
“Depends on what kind.”
He pulled out five candy bars and she grabbed the Butterfinger. “Perfect.”
“Ready to look at that house?”
Tina disarmed the alarm on her Cadillac with her remote control. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 30
Vincent pulled into the parking lot of the downtown restaurant where Kline had attacked Tina. Part one of his cleanup job was complete. Kline would never harass her again, and he’d surely think twice about stalking another woman. Now for the second phase. He walked through the front door and veered left, toward the open bar. Several tables were occupied already, the big screens turned to the latest NBA game.
He claimed a seat at the long counter and waited on the bartender.
“What can I get you?” The bartender eyed his patches admiringly. “First one is on the house.”
“Corona, no lime.”
He placed a cocktail napkin on the counter in front of him, then walked to the closest cooler. He uncapped the bottle and returned to Vincent. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks.” Vincent dropped a five-dollar bill on the counter.
“Great day for riding.”
“Perfect,” Vincent agreed. Fall weather in Corpus was mixed. Some days it reached the 80s, but when a cold front blew through, the temperatures could drop into the 50s, even as low as 40 degrees. “Have a bike?”
“A Softail,” he answered.
“Nice choice.”
“Needs a tune-up, but I get out as much as I can. My wife is about to give birth to our first kid, so she’s been on me to sell the thing.”
“Don’t do it,” Vincent warned. “You’ll kick yourself in the ass every day for the rest of your life.”
The bartender grinned. “Probably.”
Vincent punched a couple of buttons on his iPhone, then looked up at the bartender again. “Think you could help a Brother out?” His patches often won the respect and cooperation of people who worked in the bars. And right now, Vincent planned on taking advantage of it.
“Sure thing.”
“Were you working last Friday night?”
“Yeah, until closing time.”
“Did you see this woman?” Vincent showed him a couple of pictures of Tina.
The bartender shook his head. “Sorry, man. If I had, I’d remember her.”
“Shit.”
“Something wrong?”
“She’s my old lady, got attacked in the bathroom. Two women broke it up. I hoped to find out who they were. I’d like to give them a proper thank-you.”
The bartender wiped his hands on a towel. “I heard something about that. One of the ladies is a regular, can’t keep her mouth shut once she knocks back a couple drinks. She seemed genuinely concerned about her, said the girl ran out before she had a chance to offer her phone number.”
“Her name is Tina.”
“She all right?”
Vincent nodded and took a swig of beer.
The bartender looked around, then leaned across the counter. “Listen, I’m not supposed to give out information about our customers unless the cops have a search warrant. But I respect who you are. That regular has a tab, which means I have her name and phone number.”
Vincent slipped a fifty across the counter.
“Not necessary.” The bartender pushed it back. “My name is Calvin.” He offered his hand.
Vincent gladly shook it. “Vincent.”
“Let me write that info down for you. Hold on.”
He disappeared down a short hallway behind the bar, returning a couple of minutes later. A folded piece of paper was placed on the counter and Vincent picked it up nonchalantly and tucked it in his vest pocket, leaving the fifty-dollar bill on the counter. He finished his drink, thanked the bartender again, and left.