Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

They matched the pair of black Crocs sandals on her feet. Danny almost laughed at the pink T-shirt with the word “Princess” stretched tightly across her chest in glittery swirls.
    “My dear, you are absolutely breathtaking,” Chip gushed. He offered the sandwich to her.
    “Thank you, Chip.” Sydney studied the food while still drying her damp hair with a towel. “What is it?”
    “Chicken cheesesteak. A recipe from a dear old friend and a Bull Run favorite.” He offered her a ketchup bottle. “Here. Put a little of this on it, and prepare to go to heaven.”
    Sydney finished with her hair and the two of them doused their chicken cheesesteaks with ketchup. Then they followed Chip back out to the bar, where he poured Sydney a glass of Pinot Grigio. Danny finished his second Shiner with the first half of his sandwich. He was halfway through a third by the time he was done eating, as he listened to bar stories from their host. Even though the beer was beyond delicious, he dumped the rest of the glass in the kitchen sink. He couldn’t allow himself to slide. Not now.
    It was almost four in the morning by the time Danny showered. He put his underwear back on and lay down next to Sydney on the inflatable mattress that Chip had set up for them in the locker room.
    Sydney was already asleep. Danny set the alarm on his watch. He didn’t even have time to contemplate the connection between Prime Minister Fantroy’s death and the plot against America before his body’s thirst for sleep overcame him.

Chapter 72
    Danny woke up eighteen minutes before his watch alarm was set to go off. He tried to slip off the air mattress as stealthily as possible, but he ended up feeling like a blind elephant in quicksand. Fortunately, Sydney was a sound sleeper and stayed asleep as he clamored to his feet.
    He stumbled down the steep staircase to the bar’s first floor. Only the one rail light behind the liquor bottles lit his way.
    The weak sting of bleach rose up from the floor. The bar stools were turned upside down on the bar, their legs reaching for the ceiling. The chairs at the tables on the other side of the narrow room were positioned the same way. It gave the bar an even tighter feel, like it was a claustrophobic submarine waging war against sobriety.
    Danny reached the front of the bar and gazed out the bay window. His eyes were at street level. Parked cars lined both sides of the street. Suddenly, he saw a head move in the white Nissan Maxima to his left. He watched it for ten full seconds. Nothing else happened. Then he looked to the gold Toyota Prius on his right. He saw another head there, but this time it stayed completely still. He blinked several times as he continued watching it. The head never moved. Across the street, he saw four figures in all black. They held what looked to be guns in their hands.
    Icy panic raced throughout Danny’s body, but he forced himself to stay put to determine just what was happening. From the corner of his eye, he saw weak light fill the inside of the Prius. Danny saw the face of the person sitting inside. It was his father.
    The panic released its grip from his body as Danny cursed his broken mind. “Goddamn my fucking head.”
    Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Danny whipped around and grabbed a handful of shirt that was really there. He raised his fist and caught himself before striking Chip in the face.
    “Easy there, cowboy.”
    Danny let him go. “Sorry, Chip.”
    “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. My bad.”
    “I thought I saw someone outside.” Danny returned his gaze to the bar’s bay window. The same cars were there that he had seen before now. Except this time, no one was inside them. He didn’t see anyone walking around the street either.
    Chip patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, Danny. No one knows you and I are friends.”
    Danny leaned up against the corner of the bar and looked Chip over. He was dressed in a black T-shirt with his bar’s logo on the chest. His skinny, pale legs jutted out from boxer shorts decorated with a pair of giant kissing lips that glowed in the dark.
    “Nice boxers,” Danny said.
    Chip spun around once, modeling his fashion statement. “They drive the women wild.”
    “You’re the original pimp,” Danny replied. His eyes dropped to the papers in Chip’s hand. “What’s that?”
    “Proof.”
    “Proof of what?”
    Chip handed the printouts to Danny. “Proof that Sydney Dumas isn’t just another pretty