Missing In Conard County. Rachel Lee

scene. She felt ill to the pit of her stomach. As she passed the cordoned-off area where the car had been found and crowds were beginning to gather, all she could hope was that somebody at Rusty’s would give her a clue.

      THE GRAVEL PARKING lot was clear of all but one vehicle, an aging pickup truck. Neon signs in the windows didn’t yet shimmer with life and wouldn’t until Rusty officially opened his doors.

      She knew Rusty. She’d been called a number of times to help when some customers grew rowdy. Rusty did a better job than most of keeping it under control, but sometimes even he needed help. Roadhouses farther out had more problems, but here only ten miles out of town, the clientele seemed less likely to want to tussle, especially with the law. Most nights people came, drank and danced to local live music, and peace ruled, if not quiet.

      This was the place that drew the patronage of local couples as much as local cowboys, and while she doubted anyone would think it wise for an unescorted woman to come here, three teens should have been safe. Older folks would have kept an eye on them, and Rusty would have served them soft drinks.

      The door was unlocked. She pulled the tarnished brass handle and the ancient entry squeaked open. Inside the lighting was dim. The table candles in their squat hurricane lantern holders hadn’t been lit.

      Rusty was behind the long bar, polishing it with a rag. Directly across the large room from him, across the big dance floor, was a stage still holding band equipment.

      “Hey, Rusty,” she said as she and Bugle entered. “How’s business?”

      “Pretty good, but it always is on a holiday weekend. Tonight we’ll be damn near empty. Can I help you, Kelly?”

      He was a tall, lean man who always looked as if he needed to eat more of his own sandwiches. A gray moustache curled around the corners of his mouth.

      “Have you heard about the three girls who’ve gone missing?”

      Rusty’s watery blue eyes widened. “No. Is that why you’re here?”

      She nodded and opened the brown envelope she’d brought with her, the one that held the eight-by-ten photos of each girl. She recited their names as she pulled them out. “Jane Beauvoir, Chantal Reston and Mary Lou Ostend. All high school seniors. We found their car in a ditch about five miles west of here just last night. No sign of them anywhere.”

      “Jeez,” Rusty said, leaning toward the photos as if his old eyes needed some magnification. Reaching up with one hand, he turned on a bright light over the bar. Kelly blinked.

      “Anyone else here yet?” she asked, even though it didn’t feel like it.

      He shook his head. “We don’t open for another hour. Not much to do before then.” He picked up the photos one by one and studied them.

      “They were here last night,” Rusty said slowly. “Seems like they might have showed up a little after eight. Early. I hardly noticed because we were already full. Holiday,” he said again as if in explanation.

      “All three?”

      “I do believe so.”

      “They hang out with anyone?”

      He shook his head. “They sat at that table over there—” he pointed “—and drank enough diet soda to float a battleship.” He lifted his gaze. “No alcohol, I swear.”

      She nodded. “Can I let Bugle sniff around while we talk?”

      “Go for it, although how he’s going to smell squat over the stale beer and fried chicken beats me.”

      She didn’t argue or explain, but squatted down and pulled the three evidence bags from her pocket. One by one she let Bugle sniff them, then said, “Seek.” He was off.

      Straightening again, she pulled out her cell phone and hit the record button. “I’m taping this, okay? Just in case you mention something that winds up being important to us. All right by you?”

      “Happy to do it,” he answered. His gaze had wandered over to the table where he said the girls had been sitting. “Damn it, Kelly, they’re so young and were just having fun. Haven’t heard that much giggling since my own school days.”

      Then he paused and looked at her. “I didn’t pay close attention, though. I wish I had. I’m sorry. We were busy. All they were doing was sitting and drinking cola. Oh, yeah, and they ordered a BLT to share. That was it. I didn’t see anything wrong so I wasn’t staring.”

      She nodded. “I understand. Anything at all catch your attention? Did one of them dance with anyone?”

      He scratched his head and closed his eyes, pondering. “Dance? I think I saw two of them dance together. Line dancing. Nobody feels awkward if they don’t have a partner, you know?”

      “I know. So that was it?”

      “Maybe not,” he said after another minute. “They’re pretty. I saw some guys wander by to talk with them, but they didn’t stay.” His eyes popped open and met hers intently. “My opinion, if you want it...”

      “Everything you’ve got.”

      “Those girls weren’t looking for trouble of any kind. Now, I’ve had people their age in here before, skating the line of being unwise. Trying to get someone to buy them a beer, wanting to dance with anything in pants. It happens. These girls were different. It was like they were having a private party and everything else was background.”

      Kelly tipped her head a little. “Unusual?”

      “For that age. I was impressed. Must have good mamas.”

      Kelly wouldn’t know about that. Turning, she saw Bugle sitting patiently upright beside the table Rusty had pointed out. Yup, they’d been there.

      “Seek,” she told him again. Then the trail became more winding. It wandered out onto the dance floor, approached the bar, headed down the hall to the ladies’ room, then back to the table. “Find,” she urged him, envisioning the evening the three girls had spent here.

      He lowered his head and wound up at the front door. They’d left.

      She looked again at Rusty. “So...nothing concerned you. You didn’t feel like getting out your baseball bat?” She’d seen him swing that thing once. It put a quick end to most arguments.

      “I wish I could tell you something. Nothing got me concerned enough to really pay attention. Nothing raised my hackles. But I’ll keep thinking on it. Dang, those poor girls. If the car was in the ditch I don’t suppose they ran away.”

      “They didn’t get far if they wanted to.” Reluctantly, she turned off the recorder and slipped the photos back into the envelope. Then she passed him her business card, needlessly since he certainly knew her and how to call the department. It just made her feel like she was actually doing something. “In case,” she said.

      “In case,” he agreed. “Can I post some photos?”

      “They should be on everyone’s cell phone soon, but if you want some copies to put up, I’ll let the office know.”

      He nodded slowly. “Maybe someone saw something I didn’t. I’ll tell everyone to check their phones tonight.”

      “And I’ll get you some posters. It’s early days yet, Rusty.”

      “Forty-eight hours, isn’t that what they say?”

      Her nod was short, wishing she could deny it.

      “You never know,” Rusty called after her as if to be reassuring. “They could be somewhere safe.”

      “Sure. Thanks for your help. Someone else might come round.” Because they were all going to get dizzy running in circles trying to find these young ladies. Every step would be retraced a hundred times.

      Damn!