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“Maybe. It would have explained a lot, and as far as I know, you’ve never lied to us,” she admits.
“Not unless you count omission,” Jessie interjects.
“My personal life is just that. Personal. None of us talk much about our pasts or how we came to be where we are. Care to share your story? Any of you?” I ask. They all shake their heads.
“Point taken,” says Jessie. She taps Savannah on the shoulder and whispers something in her ear.
“We’ve got to get ready for our big date. We’ll stop back by before we leave.”
When they’re gone, I explain their departure. “It’s been too quiet since those two guys showed up on our property. Jessie and Savannah will wear small body cameras and head into town. We’ll see what the locals say or if anyone stands out in the crowd.”
“Oh. I had almost forgotten about them,” Ariella says quietly.
I hadn’t. Not by a long shot.
My dad took Alex to the pool once the girls left for the night. Billings is about a half-hour drive, but Huntley is a lot closer. It’s the best place to start a search since we suspect that the two men who were on the property are staying close by. Thankfully, there are only a few small motels where travelers stay and one bar where the locals congregate. If they’re there, Savannah and Jessie will find them.
“Cameras are live,” says Jerry.
“Where are they going?” Ariella asks, whispering.
“They can’t hear you, so it’s okay to talk at a normal volume. But to answer your question, it’s a dive bar called Staghouse. They’re primarily known for their elk burgers and craft brews. It’s a local hangout, but the tourists traveling down the I-90 occasionally stop in. It’s a fun little place for some two-steppin’ and live music when they have it. They even have an old jukebox that still plays vinyl records.”
“Two-steppin’? What’s that?” she asks, her nose scrunched up.
“It’s a type of dancing. I can teach you later if you want to learn. The basics are pretty easy, and it’s a lot of fun.”
“That would be wonderful,” she says. She plans to say more, but she gets interrupted when the audio on Savannah and Jessie’s body cameras turn on.
“Hi, I’m Brock. You don’t happen to be from Tennessee, do you?” a man asks Savannah.
“Um, No. I’m from Georgia. Why do you ask?”
“Because you are the only ‘ten’ I see,” he says, smirking at her. She snorts, and I don’t mean the cute, delicate kind. Savannah sounds like one of the hogs on Mr. Dunkin’s farm down the road.
One thing I know about Savannah is that she doesn’t snort. As a prior pageant queen, her mother would have trained that bad habit right out of her. But it doesn’t stop all of us from laughing as she continues. Poor Brock looks disgusted, and he turns around to leave.
“So, not a ten, then?” Jessie asks towards his retreating back.
When Savannah and Jessie order a drink from the bar, the bartender stares at Jessie, who’s wearing denim jeans, a white tank top, and a flannel shirt tied in a knot.
“This isn’t one of those 18 and over hootenannies. Come back when you’re legal, and I’ll serve you your first beer.”
“I’m not a teenager. I’m 32 years old and more than capable of ordering and being served a beer.” He arches a skeptical eyebrow. Instead of wasting time arguing with him, she pulls out her identification and slides it over to him. “What can I say? I have excellent genes.”
Savannah chuckles. “And she got them from Walmart for $14.99 on clearance!”
The bartender looks annoyed by their antics but scans the back of her card anyway. The machine gives him a green light, validating the barcode on the back. “It checks out. What will the two of you have?” he asks, sliding Jessie’s ID back to her.
Savannah requests an amber on tap, which he pours and sets in front of her. He looks at Jessie.
“And for you?”
Jessie gives him a saccharine-sweet smile as she bats her eyes and says, “A diet Coke with a twist of lime, please.”
“If you were going to order a soda pop, why did you go through all that?”
“Because you made an assumption that needed to be corrected,” she answers honestly, giving him a small shrug.
