“Her friend?”
“A pretty blond girl.” The waitress laughed. “She was talking the head off the other one.”
“Did you hear what they were talking about?” I said.
“No, but the dark-haired girl asked me about Owen.” She pointed across the street. “He was outside working on his Harley.”
We both looked at the pub. Owen. He was still there.
“Does his dad still own the pub?”
“Allen passed away about ten years ago. Owen’s been running it ever since.” She gave us a curious look. “You girls from around here?”
“We’ve been through a few times.”
“The girls you asking about okay?” the waitress said.
“Yes, one of them is my daughter.” I gave her a pained smile. “You know how it is with teenagers.”
The woman smiled back. “Got two girls myself.”
“If she comes in again, please let us know.” I wrote my cell number down on a napkin, passed it to her.
“Sure thing, sweetie. Maybe talk to Riley and Noah over at the garage. They know lots of the local kids.”
“Thanks. We’ll do that.” As she walked off I looked at Dallas. “Who the hell is this girl Skylar was traveling with?”
“Maybe she picked up a hitchhiker.”
“Should we ask about Crystal?” I said.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the waitress bend down and say something to a table full of women. They glanced in our direction.
Dallas had also noticed. “I think we should just get out of here.”
“Let’s talk to Owen,” I said.
*
We dropped some money on the table for the coffees and left before the waitress could come back. I worried that Brian and Gavin would hear that two women were looking for a runaway girl. What would they do if they had her?
Don’t go there. We don’t know what happened yet.
We pushed open the door and were instantly hit in the face with the smell of beer, greasy pub food, and body odor. The music was loud and lots of the tables were full. Men watched us walk in, shoulders hunched as they leaned over their beers, hats pulled low, faces leering. I glanced around, nervous that Gavin or Brian could be in the pub. A woman with a purple streak in her hair looked up from behind the bar as we got closer.
“What can I get you ladies?”
“We need to talk to Owen.”
Her gaze flicked over us. “I’ll see if he’s available.”
She came out from around the bar, walked down the hall, and disappeared into a room on the left. She came back out a minute later.
“He’s in the storage room.” She pointed down the hall.
“Thanks.” We walked down to the room I’d seen her enter. The walls were lined with bottles of liquor, the floors stacked with a few kegs. A man with shoulder-length blond hair was crouched down, making notes on a clipboard.
He glanced up at us. “Can I help you?”
I froze, staring into his eyes. He cleared his throat, startling me out of my thoughts. “Do you remember us?” I said.
He stood up, his body filling the small space. I stepped back, bumped into Dallas, who was standing slightly behind me. His eyes locked on mine, the moment stretching out, then realization spread across his face.
“You’re those girls.”
He was a lot taller than when we’d met him years ago, his legs long in faded blue jeans, a black leather belt with a Harley buckle wrapped loosely around his waist, reminding me of his father. He’d filled out, too—his arms and shoulders in his white T-shirt looked like they were solid muscle. He had a beard, slightly darker than his hair, which he ran his hands through as he stared at us.
“We better go into my office,” he said. We followed him farther down the hall. I noticed the back door, the stairs leading up to the apartment, and pushed away the memories, the fear. We filed into his office. He sat down at an oak desk, which had seen better days, the finish worn off in spots, but it was organized. His pen holder was a piston, and he was using a model of a Harley as a paperweight. A huge shelf against the wall beside him was stacked with books.
“Close the door,” he said.
As I shut it behind me, I noticed the woman at the bar watching. She glanced away. When I turned back around, Owen was looking at me.
“I always wondered what happened to you.…” His face was curious, then turned worried, his eyebrows pulling into a frown. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re looking for my daughter, Skylar—she’s seventeen, tall, has black hair. We think she might be looking for our sister Crystal.”
“Yeah, Skylar came in here, said she was looking for her aunt.” It was strange to hear him say her name.
“Had you seen Crystal?” I said.
“She was here a couple of nights this week. The bartender said she was sitting with Gavin and some of the guys from the ranch. Shit.…” He sat up straight. “I didn’t know who she was.”