Part 15 (1/2)
”But short of torture, I'm not sure what we can get from him. I think he's scared of Drecker, or maybe of the whole group of them.”
”He may be one of them.”
”True. And maybe he didn't know Maddy was heading to the training camp, or he wouldn't have even admitted that he'd seen her. At least we know that Maddy was here. That's something,” Jan said.
A hundred yards away was the flas.h.i.+ng Vacancy sign of a roadside motel. Next to it was the local tavern. They were both called the Pinehurst Inn.
”Why don't we go pick up my car and then have a drink over there?” Catherine said. ”Maybe we'll learn something new. And maybe we can just kip at the inn there.”
”Kip?”
”Sleep, I mean. Sorry.” Catherine smiled again, and it was killing Jan.
”Sure. I can't think what else we can do now, and I'm starving. I'm hoping they have something more than beer nuts to eat.”
They went back to the campground for Catherine's rental and met at the tavern parking lot. The bar had a smattering of people inside, mostly men sitting alone or in pairs at the bar, heads craned up to stare at Wheel of Fortune on the television. Jan wondered how many times they guessed the puzzle before the contestant did. Their heads swung around as she and Catherine entered to see who was walking through the door. Some eyes stayed on them as they climbed onto barstools. She imagined there weren't that many strangers coming through the door at the Pinehurst Inn, even in hunting season.
The bartender was a skinny woman who looked to be in a long-term relations.h.i.+p with crystal meth. Her teeth were mostly gone and her eyes were sunken and had deep, dark circles. She was probably thirty, but looked like an unhealthy fifty.
”What d'ya have?” she said, taking a swipe at the bar in front of them with a filthy rag.
”Good evening,” Catherine said brightly. ”I'd love a beer. What sort do you have?”
The bartender looked at Catherine as if she'd just spoken in Esperanto. Apparently, not many Brits made it down to this part of Michigan.
”Old Style, Bud, Miller. That's it. Oh, yeah, Heineken.”
”Two Heinekens,” Jan said. ”With gla.s.ses.”
The bartender cracked them open and put them on the bar with the gla.s.ses, waiting for her money.
”I was wondering whether you'd seen this girl at all around here,” Jan said, handing the photo of Maddy over.
The woman flicked her eyes on the photo and handed it back. ”Nope.”
”You're sure? Because the fellow at the Country Corner said he'd seen her around.”
”She looks a little young to be in a bar. I ain't seen her.”
Jan looked at Catherine, who held her phone up to show the photo of Drecker.
”How about this guy?” Jan asked.
The bartender's eyes s.h.i.+fted for a second before she shrugged. ”Haven't seen him, either. You two cops or something?”
”No, not cops. We're looking for the girl. She's missing and we want to find her before anything bad happens to her. Are you sure you can't help us with that?”
”Like I said, I haven't seen either of them.”
She moved away from them to the far end of the bar, where several of the men leaned toward her and they started whispering to each other.
”Either everyone has reason to fear Drecker or they have reason to protect him from something. No question she knew him,” Catherine said.
”Give me your phone. I'm going to ask these gentlemen what they know.”
”Do you want me with you?”
”No. I want you to watch them while I'm working the crowd.”
Jan stopped at each occupied barstool and chair, showing the photo, moving on to the next with each shake of the head. Five minutes later, she was back on her own barstool.
”One of the men placed a call while you were talking to some of the others,” Catherine said. ”I wonder if he called Drecker himself.”
”Probably. But we're not going to get anything from these guys. They're all reading from the same script.”
”Well, we just have to regroup. I've ordered two lovely frozen pizzas, which Annabeth, that's our bartender, is now cooking up in the oven. Let's take them to the inn and check in.”
”You want to stay at the Pinehurst?”
”Where else? It'll be fine. Besides, I'm knackered,” Catherine said.
”Knackered?”
Catherine laughed again. ”Tired, I mean.”
Jan knew what knackered meant, but she wanted to hear Catherine's laugh. She felt like a junkie who kept picking up a needle and flipping it around and around in her hands, telling herself she wasn't going to use. It was just a matter of time before she plunged it into her veins.
Annabeth put the hot pizzas and a six-pack of beer into a bag and shoved them over the counter, evidently glad to see the back of them. When they walked the few feet over to the office of the Pinehurst Inn, they were greeted by a woman who looked like a healthier version of Annabeth, maybe fifty years old and looking like fifty years old. Her name was Anna, and Jan understood why Annabeth still had a job in the tavern.
Jan asked for two rooms and she could feel Catherine s.h.i.+ft behind her, as if she were about to step forward to say something and then thought better of it. The office was tiny and now filled with the smell of pizza mingling with Anna's cigarette.
”Where you girls from?” Anna asked. She ran Jan's credit card as she talked and seemed to have the sunny side to her daughter's surly. ”You don't look much like you're here for hunting. And you can take that as a compliment.”
”We came up from Chicago,” Jan said. ”And we're here looking for a missing teen. Have you seen this girl around here?”
Anna studied the photo. ”I haven't, but I'll sure keep my eyes open for her. Is she a runaway?”
”We don't know. A runaway, or kidnapped.”
”Oh, dear.”
Catherine stepped forward. ”We're also looking for this gentleman. Do you know him?”
Anna stared at the phone, trying to get a bead on it through her trifocals. ”Hank Drecker? Sure, I know him. He lives just up the road. What's he got to do with this girl?”
”We don't know yet,” Jan said. ”But there may be some connection. Do you know how we can get hold of him?”
”Hank Drecker can't have anything untoward to do with that girl, if that's what you're thinking. He's got a wife and two kids and I think he's a church deacon or something.”
”Well, we'd like to talk to him, anyway. Do you know where up the road he lives?”