Dozens of house-brand liquor bottles were shelved against a mirrored wall reflecting bright task lighting. Beside the bar was a corkboard that featured local sales, festivals, and even a reward for information on a missing girl named Paige Sheldon. Six years on the human trafficking squad had her studying the girl’s face and name. The girl had vanished almost three months ago, and Macy knew from experience that the chances of finding her alive were almost nil. She tried not to think about what happened to pretty girls taken by monsters.
The bartender at the other end had his back to her. He was a big man with immense shoulders and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Before he could turn, saloon doors separating the front of the house from the back swung open.
The woman who appeared was in her late forties. She had red hair fashioned into a topknot sprouting loose curls that fell across a pale face splattered with freckles. Her smile was quick and warm. She wore a black Second Chances T-shirt that stretched over large breasts and a full belly.
“Hope you haven’t been sitting there long?” the woman said.
“Nope. Just arrived.”
She wiped the bar with a clean rag. “Looks like Garnet is preoccupied. What can I get you?”
“I’d love a beer. Draft will do.”
“Coming right up.” She placed an iced mug under the tap and pulled until beer and foam spilled over the edge. She set a napkin on the bar and then the beer, all in one fluid move. “You new in town? I’ve never seen you in here before.”
Macy took a sip. “I was born and raised in Texas, but I haven’t been back in years.”
“I can still hear a bit of a Texas accent.”
She took another sip, deciding it was decent. “Raised in Dallas mostly by my mama.”
“Once Texas gets in your blood, there’s no getting it out.” The woman filled a wooden bowl with salted peanuts and set it in front of Macy. “So what brings you back?”
“My dad passed. Cleaning out his things.”
“Sorry to hear that, baby. My name is Heather.”
“I’m Macy. I was going through my dad’s things, and I found a note saying he had a good friend who worked here,” she lied. “Danny Garnet.”
The woman’s smile didn’t vanish, but it seemed to freeze. “Well, you found the right place. Garnet owns the joint. He’s the lug over there.”
“I didn’t know my father that well, so I guess I’m trying to talk to anyone who knew him.” It was always best to stick to the truth unless a lie was necessary. Made it easier to keep the stories straight.
The woman fiddled with a ringlet that coiled behind her ear. “Who was your daddy? I might know him as well.”
Macy studied the woman’s face closely as she took another sip of beer. “Jack Crow.”
Heather’s smile dimmed, and she dropped her gaze. Macy knew enough about body language to know the woman recognized Jack’s name, and she’d looked away so she could compose an answer she thought would work best. “Jack Crow?”
“Yeah. He owned a salvage yard about fifteen miles from here. I barely knew Jack growing up, so I’m on this discovery tour. I only have a few days before I have to get back to school. I teach kindergarten.”
Heather raised her gaze, and the smile returned. “I had to think for a minute. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Jack.”
Maybe Heather had not been there the day Jack visited. Or maybe she was lying. “He’s a hard man to forget.”
Heather tapped her index finger on the bar as if pinning down a memory. “I remember a big bear of a man like Garnet.”
“That was Jack. You think I could talk to Garnet?”
“Sure thing, baby.”
Heather tossed a faltering smile and then moved down to the end of the bar. She placed her hand on Garnet’s shoulder, and he looked a little annoyed until she leaned in and spoke. Garnet’s body straightened, and his smile faded. Macy couldn’t hear, but she guessed news of Jack Crow’s kid arriving wasn’t good.
When Garnet turned, he wore a broad grin on his face. He studied her as he moved closer.
She sipped her beer, meeting his gaze and doing her best to smile even as she wondered if he was the guy who had broken Jack’s fingers and knee before her old man’s heart had seized. “You must be Garnet.”
“I sure am. And you’re Jack Crow’s kid. Heather tells me Jack died?”
“Heart attack on Sunday.”
The lines on Garnet’s face deepened. “I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah. It was out of the blue. No one saw it coming,” she said.
She imagined the worry and sadness that had flashed in his gaze giving way to something more hard and calculating. But whatever she thought she’d seen was gone as quickly as it had come. “He said you two were friends back in the day.”
“We sure were. He saved my ass a few times.” That thousand-watt smile dimmed just a tad. “So how did you find me?”
“Saw a note with your name on it. Jack didn’t have many friends, so I took a chance.”
“Pretty savvy for a kindergarten teacher.”
She laughed. “You’ve got to be quick to stay ahead of those five-year-olds.”
His deep-throated laugh rang a little hollow. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have kids.”
She lowered her gaze to her beer, not wanting to put him on the defensive. She paused for effect before she slowly lifted her eyes. “Had you seen Jack lately?”
“It’s been years. We always said we’d keep up after the army, but you know how it goes.”
She nodded as she sipped her beer. “I was just hoping to learn more about my old man. Figured I’d try.”
“I wish there was more I could tell you about him. All my stories are over thirty years old.”
“I’ll take an old story,” she quipped.
He shrugged. “When we were in the army, I got into some trouble with the MPs. I think they’d have thrown me in the brig and tossed the key if Jack hadn’t intervened. He could schmooze anyone when he put his mind to it. The MPs let me go, and Jack never told a soul. He was the kind of guy you could always rely on.”
“But you two lost touch?”
“It happens. Life moves on.”
She wondered if Jack had gone to his grave protecting Garnet’s secret. “That was Jack. Loyal to a fault.”
“Drink up. You’ve barely touched your beer,” Garnet said.
She raised the mug to her lips. “No letter, no call, nothing recently? Just seems odd he’d write your name down and not follow through with a visit.”
He grinned, shaking his finger at her. “Now you really sound like a cop.”
She laughed as she patted her index finger against her temple. “Being a teacher, I’m saddled with an analytical mind that won’t accept an unsolved problem.”
“I guess you’re a chip off the old block. Jack was like that.”
Macy reached for her wallet, but Garnet shook his head. “How much do I owe you?”
His gaze sharpened as if he were either trying to pry behind her words or reaching for an old memory that danced in the distance. And then he smiled again. “Your money is no good here. Beer’s on the house.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positively.”
“I appreciate the time and the brew.” Her father had been murdered, and he’d left her three addresses. Jack knew there was trouble brewing. He’d called the Rangers and set her up as his contingency plan. Now it was her turn to call the Texas Rangers and let them know what she’d found.
“Sure thing, kid. Sure thing. Is there going to be a funeral for Jack?”
“No. He wasn’t crazy about that kind of thing.”
“You’re right. He never liked a fuss.” He shook his head as he studied her features. “You must take after your mother, because you sure don’t look like Jack.”
She grinned. “I get that a lot. My mom always said I looked like her mother.” She recited her mother’s lie because she’d heard it so many times, and it felt more natural than the real truth of her life.
“Brenda was your mother?”
“That’s right. She and Jack split when I was two. Did you know my mom?”
“I met her once when she and your father were dating.”
If he’d known Brenda, whose skin and hair were as dark as Jack’s, and he had any inkling about genetics, he might wonder how the couple had grown Macy from scratch.
He filled a fresh bowl of peanuts for her and aligned it precisely next to the other bowl. “How is Brenda?”
“She passed eight years ago.”
“Sorry to hear that. What was it?”
“Lung cancer. The smokes finally got her.”
Before he could ask another question, a patron at the end of the bar waved Garnet over, and he told her to hold that thought as he refilled the man’s mug.
She glanced in the mirror behind the bar, catching its reflection of the room, looking for signs that anyone was watching her. There were a few men checking her out, but with her bitch face locked in place, she had another minute or two before some crazy soul dared approach.
A man on her right took the bar seat beside her and drew Garnet’s attention. She didn’t bother a glance as his rusty voice ordered a scotch.
He didn’t acknowledge her but reached in the bowl of nuts and scooped up a handful. He crunched on nuts as he waited for Garnet to bring him his drink. Finally, he asked, “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so, pal.” A glance to her right revealed a good-looking man in jeans and a V-neck lightweight pullover. He’d pushed up his sleeves, revealing sinewy forearms.
“I could have sworn I saw you the other day,” he said.
If she’d been feeling generous, she’d have given him a point for persistence, but she wasn’t, so he got two strikes for his inability to read social cues. “Not me. I don’t live here.”