Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (rooftoppers txt) 📕

sit and drown your sorrows, it’s usually more effective to drink more than half a beer in an hour. You’ll never kill the right number of brain cells at your pace.”

Despite himself, Manny broke into a half smile at her jab.

The woman grabbed his mug of warm liquid and dumped it into the sink behind the bar. She shot Manny a wink as she walked over to the tap and filled the mug with fresh beer and plopped it back in front of him. She then grabbed a bottle of tequila from the back shelf and filled a shot glass, set it on the bar next to the beer, and nodded at Manny to drink it. He took the glass in hand and took a small sip. It was some of the worst tequila he’d ever tasted, and he could feel the look of utter disgust twist his face as he swallowed. The woman let out a laugh as he set the remainder of the shot on the bar and pushed it away.

“Yeah, Mr. Anderson doesn’t really spend much money on the liquor around here,” she said.

“Clearly. I think I’ll stick to the beer. Do I owe you for the shot?”

“Nah. Second beer’s on me too.” She grabbed the shot glass and raised it up. “Cheers.”

Manny watched in awe as she downed the remainder of the nasty liquid, giving no visible hint whether it bothered her in the least. Almost unconsciously, he grabbed his beer mug and drained nearly half its contents in one gulp.

“That’s more like it,” she smiled as she slapped the bar with her hand, before turning her head to peer down to the men seated in the stools at the other end. “Better go check on the boys. You’ll let me know if you need anything else?”

Manny gave a nod which she returned before sauntering over to stand in front of the three older, and somewhat unkempt, men. He watched as she filled each of their glasses with brown liquor and put her hand over her heart in thanks as one of the men handed her a large bill. They seemed familiar with each other, and he deduced that these men were probably regulars who she had been working her feminine charms on for a while.

Though she seemed totally committed to her act, Manny would catch her periodically rolling her eyes and, when the men weren’t looking, allowing the phony smile to momentarily drop from her face before continuing with her flirtations. Here was a woman who was clearly not where she wanted to be. He wondered what her story was, and why he kept staring at her. She was attractive, to be sure: thin and lithe. And though she was a tad shorter than he usually liked and a few years older than he was, the curve of her backside pushing against her jeans as she leaned over the bar was an alluring sight.

Manny looked over at the television in the corner above the bar. He was hoping that the Cardinals game would be on, but he was confronted with the scene in front of the Sheriff’s Department from a few hours prior. Sheriff Taughten was at the podium speaking to the assembled media. It was the part of the statement where he was going over the details of how the local authorities were going to be handing over control of the investigation to the FBI. Manny recalled the awkward feeling of being called to stand next to the Sheriff as he gave his statement and was relieved when Taughten hadn’t asked him to say anything when he was finished.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” The bartender’s voice made him jump. Manny marveled to himself at how he didn’t hear her come up behind him.

“That’s me,” he managed to reply, his frustration with his bosses showing through. He looked at her, but she was staring intently, almost transfixed, at the screen.

“Young Boy Slain, Burned,” she said, reading the caption at the bottom of the screen.

Manny eyed her carefully over the rim of his mug as he took a slow sip. He watched as she walked over to the television, reached up, and turned up the volume. She seemed to ignore everything else in the bar. Manny knew that if the news channel ran the press conference in its entirety, she would remain like that for almost another five minutes.

Manny turned to scan the room. His eyes passed over the men that she had been flirting with and then beyond to a couple of younger men at a table in the corner. They were drinking quickly out of their glasses and laughing to each other, but their eyes were cast across the room. Manny followed their gaze and saw a group of three women who were just sitting down. They were in their early forties with too much makeup on and were dressed how they probably thought college girls dressed. They were clearly looking for a man to pay for their drinks and possibly take them home to make them feel as beautiful as they hoped they still were. It was enough of a scene to make Manny begin to regret his decision to walk in this world for the night.

“So you’re a detective, then.” Her voice brought him back to the moment.

Manny turned back around to face the woman, who was once again leaning over the bar and staring at him intently.

“Do you have any idea who did it?” she whispered, causing him to lean closer.

“I really can’t discuss the case,” Manny replied as official-sounding as he could.

“No, I get it. It’s just odd, though. How could the person who did this get the kid out of the house and into the backyard with no one seeing him?”

Something about her was odd. It was human nature to be bizarrely fascinated with death. It was a coping mechanism of sorts. However, this woman had a different sort of look in her eyes. There was more to her question