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Elliot knocked on the sandwich place door and waited, peeking through the glass.
“It’s not open yet,” a young man shouted from inside. “Come back in ten!”
Elliot opened his wallet and stuck his badge against the glass. The seven-point star clinked loudly.
“All right,” the young man said, dropping a case of shredded lettuce on the counter with a frustrated expression on his face. He walked quickly to the door, wiping his hands on his apron, then unlocked the door. “What can I do for you?” He wore a black T-shirt with a colorful print, a familiar rock star’s face, but someone Kay couldn’t name. Or maybe an actor’s. A black, knitted cap embroidered with theStar Warsscript in yellow covered his forehead almost entirely. Military dog tags on a chain jingled when he moved. “Come on in.”
Kay showed him Jenna’s photo on her phone. “This girl was here on Tuesday afternoon and had a tuna sandwich with capers. Do you remember her?”
The man hesitated, tilting his head to get a better view. “I—um, it gets busy here in the afternoon. I’m not sure.”
Kay realized she was showing him the old photo, the one taken for Jenna’s college applications, where she was a smiling, happy girl with blonde highlights in her hair, before her entire life had fallen apart. She swiped and displayed the more recent one. “How about this one?”
“Yes, I remember her now, she sat over there, by the window,” he pointed. “Over there, with two guys.” He frowned, lining his forehead with several parallel lines under the brim of hisStar Warshat. “Is this the girl they found by Wildfire Ridge the other day?”
“Yes, that’s her.” Kay looked at the ceiling but didn’t see what she was looking for. “There’s no video surveillance here?”
“No, ma’am. They said they’re bringing cameras next year. But tourists don’t really like it, especially out there, on the patio.” He grinned, showing two rows of perfectly white teeth. “Especially after closing time, if you know what I mean.”
Kay glanced quickly toward the restaurant patio, deserted at that hour. The lounge chairs lined up with a view of Mount Chester’s peak were a local attraction, especially on warmer evenings lit by the moon. Restaurant patrons stayed well after closing, sometimes wrapped in sleeping bags or blankets taken from their hotel rooms, and enjoyed the fresh air and stunning view. Or, as Kay remembered, occasionally listened to a young tourist playing his guitar and crooning in the moonlight. She wondered if the three students who’d found Jenna’s body might’ve seen her earlier, when they were having dinner on the restaurant patio. Maybe they’d taken a photo of the landscape, catching something in the foreground; people, faces, car tags.
“What’s your name? I’m Detective Kay Sharp, this is my partner, Elliot Young.” She extended her hand.
The young man hesitated before squeezing it, wiping his hand quickly against the starched apron. “Dwayne,” he replied, all serious, a little tense. “Dwayne Goodrow.”
Elliot shook his hand, looking at the tattoo on the man’s arm. “Where did you serve?”
The grin returned. “Marines.”
“Rangers,” Elliot replied, taking two fingers to the brim of his hat.
“Cool,” Dwayne replied, holding his fist in the air. Elliot bumped it.
It was amazing to see just how easily males bonded over a shared interest.
“Dwayne, what can you remember about the two men who were here with the girl in the photo?” Kay asked.
“Um, not much.” His hands found the apron pockets and dove in. “It gets busy, and this week, it’s just me, pulling doubles. Carrie is sick. She’s my boss, the store manager. She’s been out since Sunday.” His gaze shifted to Elliot. “I have to ask the patrons for a break to take a leak, if you know what I mean.” Elliot smiled with understanding. “Those guys, they were white. Dark-haired. Slender but muscular, like youths who are into sports.”
“How old?” Kay asked.
“Um, I’d say about the same age as the girl, maybe a year or two older; not more.”
“Did you happen to see what car they drove?” Elliot looked behind him toward the parking lot.
Dwayne shrugged. “I can’t see much past the counter, especially if I have people waiting in line.”
“Tell me more,” Kay asked. “We’ll send a sketch artist to sit with you, but I need whatever you can give me right now.”
He scratched his forearm, stopping short of the bulldog tattooed there and stared at the ceiling briefly. “Um, I’m not really sure. Both were clean-shaven, wearing clean clothes, jeans and shirts, but new. Kind of looked like each other; maybe they were brothers.”
“How tall?”
He scoffed quietly. “They were sitting down, but I noticed their legs were kind of long for that small table. Say, about six-two one of them, an even six feet the other?” He looked down for a moment, then at Kay with a bit of worry in his eyes. “Don’t hold my feet to the fire over this, all right? I can’t be sure.”
“Anything else you remember?”
Dwayne shrugged, seeming a little embarrassed. “They tipped well, and seemed to be in a good mood.”
