If I Can't Let Go

“Yes,” Natalie said softly, aware of the sensitivity of the topic. “The Club was investigated for overserving him.”

“The club was cleared of that charge,” Liam said. “My father had several drinks there, but witnesses and the bartender said he didn’t appear drunk, just quiet. Sullen.” He glanced swiftly over at her. “The Silver Dunes had a video camera mounted over the bar. The film was used to investigate whether or not the bartender or the Silver Dunes had any culpability in my dad’s intoxication and allowing him to get behind the wheel of a car that night.”

“Your father’s insurance company’s attorneys used the video in the hearings as well,” Natalie added in a hushed tone.

Liam nodded, his expression rocklike. “Right. The insurance company tried to use the tape to say it wasn’t possible that my dad was as intoxicated as the suit suggested, and therefore was not as reckless as was alleged. The bartender served him three drinks in the span of an hour and a half. Not ideal, but not enough to make a six-foot-four-inch, nearly two hundred pound man looped out of his mind. But the lab reports don’t lie. If my father hadn’t gotten tanked at the Silver Dunes Country Club that night, he’d poured enough booze down his throat later on to get a platoon ripped.”

Natalie closed her eyes briefly when she heard his bitterness.

“Where’s that video now? Does it still exist?” she asked breathlessly.

“It exists. I just found out for sure this morning. I have a couple of friends who work for the Michigan State Police. The videotape is still catalogued in evidence storage.”