Free The Girl in the Box 03 - Soulless by Robert J. Crane

extra pounds. He had long brown hair in a ponytail and was happy enough after he checked our IDs. “Whaddya want?” he asked in an accent that was as far from midwestern as I could imagine.
    Scott looked over to me first and I shrugged, so he turned to Kat. “Just water for me,” she said. “Designated driver.”
    “What’s good here?” I picked up the mixed drinks menu that he had proffered and thumbed through it.
    “Honestly? I got some strengths; I make a pretty good Whiskey Sour, Bloody Mary, Rusty Nail, Dirty Martini...my Fuzzy Navel is the stuff of local legend—”
    “You don’t need to show us that,” Scott said.
    The bartender smiled and his face split into jowls. “I also make a pretty good Cherry Bomb.”
    I shrugged, without a clue. “I’ll try the Whiskey Sour.”
    “Straight up or over ice?”
    He looked back at me and I felt the fatigue of the day edging in. “Surprise me.”
    The bartender nodded and Scott ordered a beer, a local brand, and went to the other end of the bar to prep our order. Once he was out of earshot, Scott turned to me. “What do you think so far?”
    “He seems like a nice enough guy. Kinda big, though. You think that’s glandular?”
    “About the case.” Scott shook his head.
    “I think we should not screw it up.” I tried to give him my most serious look. “Right?”
    “Right.” He looked back at Kat, who was resting her face on her palms. “Right?” She gave a lethargic shake of the head, pulling it off her hands to spread her palms with indifference. “It’ll be fine. Just a drink or two, and we’re off to bed for the night, and back to work tomorrow.” He smiled again at me and I caught the first hint of nervousness. “But come on, admit it – we’re out on our own, on the road, we’re in charge of this thing, and we’re sitting in a bar after a long day of chasing down a meta. Tell me this isn’t how you imagined it.”
    I felt a charge of amusement. “First of all, it’s been like four hours, not a day, and most of it we’ve been driving, so I don’t know how hard it’s been.” I saw his nervous happiness start to evaporate and stopped myself. “Yeah, it’s kinda how I imagined it. Freedom, right?” The bartender returned and set down a napkin and placed my drink on top of it, complete with a maraschino cherry, put a beer bottle in front of Scott and slid a water glass onto the bar beside Kat.
    “I’ll drink to that,” Scott said, raising his beer up and angling it toward me. He waited for me to pick up my glass, which was a lot shorter than his; kind of a midget glass, I thought, like they didn’t want me to have a grown-up’s cup. I clinked it against his bottle as he said, “To us! To freedom!” and then reached around him to click my glass against Kat’s. Even she was wearing a smile, as wan as it was.
    “Pretty sure it’s bad luck to toast with a water glass,” I said to Kat as I took the first sip of my drink. Whatever she said in reply, I didn’t hear. I felt my face contract as the full flavor of the whiskey hit my mouth. It was only mildly sour. What caused me to make a face like I’d swallowed battery acid was what I could only assume was the result of the alcohol. It was pungent, powerful, and I immediately wanted to spit it out and throw the cup far, far away from me. They had given me poison, I was sure of it.
    “Are you all right?” Scott was looking at me with his brow furrowed. He took a swig and set his beer back down on the bar.
    I swallowed the vile mixture and wondered where the barman had gone. I assumed he’d wanted to be as far away from me as possible when I discovered that his idea of a good drink was far removed from what I had thought it would be. “Is it...supposed to taste like I took a swig of household cleaners?”
    Scott laughed and looked back at Kat, who feigned a smile of amusement as she rested her face on her hands. “A little strong, huh?”
    “It’s a little strong in the same