Free If I Should Die by Allison Brennan Page B

right out of Deadwood.”
    “Until these past few months, I’d have said Spruce Lake wasn’t as violent or colorful,” Adam said. “Now, I don’t know.”
    Lucy looked around. Small, round lopsided tables littered the dark, scuffed wood floor and a row of booths lined the far wall. Behind the worn bar was a beveled mirror to watch the crowd. The mirror itself was an antique. Much of the bar and its décor was old but durable, adding a certain raw charm. A sign on a small stage in the back declared that Bo Crouse and the Miners were playing from eight-thirty until closing on Friday and Saturday, and the specials were written in Day-Glo chalk near the kitchen: Unlimited barbeque ribs for $6.99 and draft beers for a dollar.
    Black-and-white photographs of the Kelley Mining Company lined the walls. Kelley had been the only major employer in Spruce Lake for decades. Mining equipment hung from the ceiling and an old mining cart was showcased in the corner, reminding Lucy of the cart she’d seen yesterday in the mine.
    A bald, middle-aged man worked behind the bar, and the lone waitress—a skinny blonde in her midthirties who wore too-bright makeup and too-tight jeans—approached the table with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes.
    “Adam Hendrickson! You haven’t been by in forever. And you brought friends.” She appraised Sean as if he were a Playgirl centerfold and she the lucky photographer.
    Adam introduced Sean and Lucy. “They’re friends visiting before the resort opens.” He looked over at them. “Trina was always nice to me when I visited in the summers.”
    “Your arrival was always exciting! City boy visiting us hicks for two whole months. A cutie, too. Anything to liven up this town.” She then did a double take on Sean. “You’re the one Doc Woody was talking about!” Trina looked at Sean’s lap. “Twelve stitches, huh? Did it hurt?”
    Sean gave Trina a self-deprecating nod and dimpled half-smile. Lucy had seen him turn on the charm like a faucet, and it never failed—whether the women were young or old, attached or single.
    “Not much,” he said modestly.
    While they talked about the “excitement,” as Trina called it, a sprinkling of pinpricks crawled up Lucy’s spine. They were being closely watched. She discreetly assessed the room. Many patrons were glancing over at them every now and again, but no one seemed unduly focused.
    It would seem odd to most people that Lucy had a vivid physical reaction to being watched. In the past, she’d blamed her discomfort—and occasional panic—as remnants of her attack seven years ago. And, in the past, her reaction was psychosomatic; she’d felt as though she was being observed even when she wasn’t.
    It had taken her years, but she’d learned to distinguish the difference between the psychological tension when she was in a large crowd and the real tension caused by undue attention. Sean had taught her to trust her instincts. Just because she couldn’t tell who was watching their table didn’t mean there wasn’t someone watching. And here? They were the strangers. She tried to dismiss her feelings, but she couldn’t stop the sensation crawling down her spine.
    Adam said, “Trina, I know I’m getting the ribs, but could you bring a couple menus for my guests?”
    “Sure! Can I get y’all some drinks first? We’re running a special on Miller in the bottle. Jon got a deal from the distributor.” She winked and walked off without waiting for them to agree to her recommendation.
    Adam smiled. “Don’t tell her anything you don’t want the world to know.”
    “She might come in handy,” Sean said.
    “She hasn’t changed. No one has, really,” Adam said.
    “Do you know most of the people in here tonight?” Sean asked.
    Adam looked around, none too discreetly. “I recognize most everybody, though not all by name.” He smiled broadly and waved at an older, clean-cut man who walked in to the chime of two bells