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“I’ll take whatever you got on tap. But none of that light shit.”
The barman chuckled and moved down to pour his beer, setting it on a napkin before offering a menu. He waved it away. “If you have anything resembling a regular double cheeseburger with bacon—nothing fancy—and fries, I’ll take that.”
“I can do that for you,” the man said, keying in his order. “You doing a food tour or something?”
He looked up and saw the man staring at his list marked with red pen. “Looking for someone.”
“That’s a lot of looking.”
“It’s very important that I find her.” He could tell his tone was rougher than he meant it to be when the man’s eyebrows shot up, and he fixed his face into a look of sympathy. “It’s my kid sister. She went missing, and my mom is worried sick. I’m trying to find her, is all.”
The man leaned his elbows on the bar and nodded at the map. “And you think she was here?”
He shrugged. “Someone said they thought they saw her in this area, so we figured it was worth a shot to have somebody drive up this way and check it out.”
“But you’re not from around here.”
“Good ear.” He forced a smile. “I’m from down south a ways. But maybe you’ve seen her?”
He dug the flyer out from his pocket and unfolded it, holding it up for the man to see. The man took the paper and squinted, glancing up over the top of it.
“That’s your sister?”
“Since the day she was born. Do you recognize her?”
The man studied the photo a bit longer before slowly setting it down on the bar. “She worked here a couple weekends at the end of November, beginning of December.”
He perked up. Almost a week of searching in the freezing cold, and he happened to wander into the exact restaurant he needed just to grab a beer. “Do you remember her name?”
The man frowned. “You don’t know your own sister’s name?”
Fuck. “She’s gone missing before. Sometimes she gives a fake name.”
“Maybe if she’s giving a fake name, she doesn’t want to be found.”
“I understand what this looks like, but my sister is severely mentally ill. When she has a prolonged episode like this, she can end up doing real damage to herself.”
The man rubbed a hand over his jaw and nodded slowly. “She seemed fine when she worked here. Said her name was Amy something.”
He impatiently tapped his pen on the scarred wood. “Parker, maybe?”
The man thought for a minute. “That sounds about right.”
“Thanks. That’s a name I can give when I call local hospitals. You said you haven’t seen her since December?”
“Yeah.” The man eyed the photo again. “She said she needed to make some extra cash to fix her car. We didn’t put her on the books, just let her wait some tables and keep the tips. I think she said she was heading down into Indianapolis next.”
“Indianapolis?” He scribbled it down on his paper.
“Said something about trying to get away from all the snow.” The man chuckled. “I told her she’d be better going out to California for all that.”
He forced a laugh. “Too true. I don’t know how y’all do it up here.”
“Oh, you get used to it. Your food will be up shortly. Let me know if you need anything else.”
The barman moved down the bar, and he gave himself a triumphant pat on the back. They always ran their mouth one time too many. It wasn’t a rock-solid lead, but it was a piece of the puzzle and a step in the right direction.
He’d find her. A spoiled brat like that could only hide from him for so long.
