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“No.” He’d kept a sharp eye on everyone who’d come in. No one had pinged his radar as suspicious. Still, there was one more thing they should try before crossing this place off the list. “Let me talk to the bartender.” He got up and headed toward the bar before she could object or want to come with him.
“Another round?” the bartender asked when Owen approached.
“No, thanks. Maybe some info, though. I’m looking for a guy that might have come in here.” Owen brought up Mason’s picture on his phone.
The bartender took a glance at it. “Yeah, I know him. He used to get lunch in here two or three times a week. Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“What about this man?” Owen swiped to the picture of Wilson.
The bartender leaned closer to take a good look before shaking his head. “Nah. Not that one. Never seen him before.”
“The two never had lunch together?” Owen wanted to be clear on that.
“Nope.” He walked away to serve another customer, and Owen turned to head back to the table, freezing for a beat when he saw a beefy guy with a scraggly blond beard looming over Sophie. She was sitting back in her chair, staring at the man like he was vermin.
Owen was across the room in just a few long strides. “Get lost,” he said. “She’s my girl.”
The guy opened his mouth to argue but must have seen the belligerent look on Owen’s face. “Sorry,” he muttered and retreated.
“I could have handled that,” Sophie said when Owen sat down. “Thanks, though. It would have taken me longer to get it through to him that I wasn’t interested, and he was a douchebag. He got the message quickly from you.”
“We’re a team.” He reminded her. “Just doing my half. Getting rid of assuming assholes is in my wheelhouse. Being smart and persistent is in yours.” She smiled at him, her foul mood apparently gone. He’d take that as a win. The spike of…something he’d felt when seeing her being hit on settled. He wasn’t going to call it jealousy, even if it seemed like it. He didn’t do that emotion. Too costly, too destructive. He liked to keep his emotions on a steadier keel—not let anything get to him and not let anyone affect him too much. If anyone was worth going there for, it would be her…but that wasn’t a possibility. Getting involved with her wasn’t part of their deal. So he stood, taking her hand, and pulling her up with him. “Let’s head to another locale on Mason’s GPS history. What’s next?”
They left the bar and drove to a pharmacy a few blocks away. The teenager at the register claimed to never have seen Mason, so they made their way to the prescription counter in the back.
“Hi,” Sophie began when she got the pharmacist’s attention. “I’m looking for a friend of mine who lives in the area.” She put Mason’s photo down. “I think he may have gotten prescriptions filled here. Have you seen him?”
The pharmacist’s face was carefully neutral as he looked at the picture and back at her. “Even if I had, I couldn’t tell you. Privacy laws.”
Sophie gave him a winning smile that said you can trust me. “I’m not asking about what prescriptions he has. I just need a nod to let me know if he’s in the area. Do you know him?”
“Sorry. Can’t help you,” he dismissed her with a wave, making it clear that they’d learn nothing from him.
A minute later they were back in Owen’s truck.
“That was a bust. I guess I have to admire his respect for the rules,” she said. “But we know from the GPS that he was here all the time. So what was Mason doing here so often?”
Owen couldn’t think of a plausible reason, so he went with the mildly ridiculous. “Maybe he cut himself shaving a lot and needed first-aid supplies. Shaving around your nose is a bitch.”
“Hmmm.” Sophie was trying to be serious, but a dimple showed on her left cheek. “Or he was addicted to the trashy entertainment magazines they sell at the counter.”
“Could be.” Owen pretended to consider that. “How about he liked to try the different flavors of toothpaste? Mint? Vanilla? Cinnamon?”
“Bubble gum,” she said decisively. “I’ll bet he’s a bubble gum man.”
Owen laughed. “We may never know. Where to next?”
With a sigh, she pulled out her notes. “A streetcorner. Holland and Grant. Mostly residential in that area.”
He put his truck in drive and headed toward the location. The GPS address indicated the parking lot of a typical looking apartment building. He pulled into a space and cut the engine. “What else do we know?”
“Mason was here in the evenings pretty often and stayed an hour each time. His visits abruptly stopped three weeks before he kidnapped Helen.”
“Maybe it was a social thing, and he got too busy to come.”
“Could be. But you don’t drive across town to hang out with friends for one hour.” She studied the building. “Unless it was a hookup.”
“In sixty minutes? Nope.” Sex, even a casual encounter, should take longer than that.
