Thread of Truth, стр. 35
Sutton Swanson was waiting out front of Danny's. She held up a hand when she saw me walking toward her on the sidewalk.
“You have to park far away?” she asked.
“I walked,” I told her. “Easier than parking.”
“Must be nice.”
I smiled. “It is. I'm lucky.”
We went inside and found a table by the front window. Danny's was a local bar and grill, with a mostly local clientele from both the neighborhoods and the air station on the corner of the island. It was a mix of fit-looking men sporting crew cuts and older people with excellent tans. I'd been eating and drinking there ever since Lauren and I moved onto the island.
The waitress came and we each ordered a beer. She returned with them and said she'd give us a few minutes to look over the menu.
“Do I need to look over the menu?” Swanson asked when she was out of earshot.
“If you're a carnivore, burgers are good,” I told her. “Not sure I've had anything else.”
“I put my bacon on my bacon.”
“Then you'll be fine.”
The server eventually returned and we each ordered cheeseburgers.
“I was surprised you called,” she said, after the server left with the menus.
“So was I.”
She laughed. “That was a weird response.”
I picked up my beer. “I suppose it was. Sorry. I just...it was sort of spur of the moment.”
She nodded. “Fair enough. I just thought maybe I came at you a bit hard about the stuff with your daughter. I was so surprised that it was you. I'd read about you for years so it was strange to be standing there with you.” She smiled a little sheepishly. “Although I guess I’ve already told you that.”
“I understand.”
“But I don't want to bog you down with talking just about that,” she said.
I shrugged. “I think I've reached a point where it's easier to talk about.”
“I assume it hasn't always been that way.”
I shook my head. “No. It's probably unhealthy how little I've talked about it. A couple of friends encouraged me to seek counseling, but I just knew that wasn't going to be my way. Slowly, but surely it's gotten a little bit easier to talk about. Not publicly. I knew I'd never do that.”
“It's shocking how little information is out there directly from you,” she said. “Meaning, after you found her. There's almost nothing that's quoted from you. Most pieces that I found said you didn't participate in whatever the piece was.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I just didn't feel like we owed anything to anyone. And there was a lot of stuff that I was never going to put out there because it didn't belong there.” I thought about Anchor.
“Sure,” she said. “That makes sense. I assume you know there are a lot of theories out there about your wife.”
I nodded, but didn't say anything.
“I assume you don't give a shit about them.”
I smiled faintly and shook my head.
She held up her beer. “Good for you.”
I clinked my glass against hers. “So I have a question for you,” I said, hoping she didn’t mind the change of subject.
She raised her eyebrow.
“The Desmond Locker case,” I said. “Anything weird showing up?”
She eyed me. “Did you just ask me to dinner to see what you could get on the case?”
I shook my head. “No. I'm asking because I learned a few things after I asked you to dinner.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Now I'm intrigued,” she said. “Anything weird...” she said, repeating my words and then thinking for a minute. “Not that I'm aware of. Pretty routine hit and run, if you can call something like that routine.” She paused. “Is there something I should know?”
“Can we do it off the record?” I said. “I'll explain why.”
“I'm halfway through this beer,” she said. “Probably won't even remember we had the conversation.”
I smiled and told her about Christine Gonzowski.
Our food arrived just as I finished talking. Our server set the plates down. “Anything else right now?”
“I'm gonna need another beer,” Swanson said.
“Make it two,” I said.
The server nodded and hurried off.
“Well, that's some shit,” she murmured. “And that does make me think a little differently. You check any of her alibis?”
“No,” I told her, pulling the napkin from my silverware. “Didn't have time and not my place right now. For what it's worth, I think she was telling me the truth about all of it. She might've left stuff out about her relationship with the kid, but for the most part, I think I got the truth.”
She picked up her knife and cut her burger in half. The server returned with our second round and we both reached for our respective mugs.
After downing a mouthful, I offered her the half empty bottle of ketchup for her fries.
“Not ever,” she said, waving it away.
“You don't like ketchup?”
“No one should like ketchup. The devil's sauce.”
“Wow.”
She raised an eyebrow at me again. “Is that a make or break thing for you?”
“It might be.”
She picked up a fry and pointed it at me. “So are you telling me that you don't think the kid's accident was an anonymous hit and run?”
“I haven't even told you everything I know yet,” I said. “Eat and then we'll talk.”
We worked through our food. I'd thought it might be awkward to have dinner with her, but to that point, it had been fine. Comfortable, even. Granted, it wasn't much more than eating and some benign conversation, but, for me, that was something.
She pushed her empty plate to the side. “Okay. Talk.”
I laughed. “I hope you don't get sick from eating so fast.”
“You can't leave me hanging like that.”
“Fair enough,” I said, then told her what Christine had told me about Olivia confronting her at the school.
Swanson leaned back