Free Blood Dahlia - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries) by Victor Methos

with two other bartenders , but it didn’t seem like they had enough staff. She didn’t have time to mingle or drink. All she could do was mix the drinks, take payments, and keep the bar reasonably free of clutter.
    “Hey, gorgeous.”
    She looked up to see a man with a Penn State T-shirt standing in front of her.
    “What can I get you?” she said.
    “What time do you get off?” he said. “’Cause I’d like to watch.”
    He chuckled , but Sarah gave him an icy stare. “I don’t find that funny.”
    “What? Listen, my buddy over there said you were good to go.”
    Sarah glanced back to where he was pointing. A group of men huddled in a booth. One of them looked familiar, a man from her past whom she’d slept with.
    “So what time you get off?” he said.
    “I’m not interested.”
    “Hey, I’m just askin’ what time you get off. And in case you didn’t notice, you’re not the hottest bitch here.”
    She moved to turn away and get to another customer when he grabbed her wrist. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
    A single image came to her mind. This man sneaking into a window in high school. Another boy was in bed , and the man got undressed and entered the bed.
    Sarah said, “ Closeted gay men don’t usually hit on me. Maybe one of the male bartenders would better fit you.”
    “Fuck you, bitch.”
    Sarah ignored him and continued with the drinks. The man walked back to the table, and the group of men laughed, glaring at her. She felt her face get hot and wanted to be somewhere else, but there was nowhere else to be. So instead she just told Trevor she was taking a five-minute break and would be right back.
    Sarah grabbed a beer and went out to the back alley. She leaned against the wall as she twisted off the top of the bottle and tossed it into the nearby dumpster. It missed and bounced on the ground. She walked over and bent down to pick it up when she heard someone behind her.
    She turned, startled, and saw Agent Rosen casually strolling toward her.
    “What’re you doing here?” she said.
    “I was inside and saw you duck out here. It’s quiet,” he said, looking around, “but not exactly sanitary.”
    “What do you want, Agent Rosen?”
    “Just call me Arnold.” He leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “The sheriff struck me as a man who believed in miracles. His entire house was nothing but religious paintings.”
    “Really?” she said, taking a sip of beer. “He wasn’t that religious when I knew him.”
    “When was that?”
    “Last time I saw him was about six years ago, when I left Lancaster County.”
    “Why did you leave?”
    Sarah ambled over to the wall across from him and leaned back, letting the bottle dangle in her fingers. “Trouble at home, wanting to see the world… You name it , I guess.”
    Rosen nodded and was quiet a moment as he watched a pedestrian walk past the alley. “Do you have it, Sarah?”
    “Have what?”
    “You know what.”
    She didn’t say anything.
    “What do you see when you look at me?” Rosen said. “Be honest.”
    Sarah looked him over. She took another sip of the beer. Allowing one thought to enter her mind, she saw a woman in a hospital bed. The woman turned to her and said something. It wasn’t a full picture. It was more akin to turning on a faucet and then immediately closing it, letting only the smallest spray out.
    “I see your wife.”
    Rosen’s mouth fell open. It only lasted a moment, and then he gained control of himself again. “What about her?” he managed to get out.
    “She says that the blanket was warm enough. I don’t know what it means.”
    Tears welled up in Rosen’s eyes, and he had to turn away. He paced around the alley, acting as though he were lost in thought. But Sarah could see he was fighting back the tears.
    “ A few days before she passed,” he said quietly, “I brought her a blanket. She was unconscious at the time. But I still talked to her. I told her I was worried that the blanket