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“How old are you?”
He squared his shoulders. “I’ve been legal for six months.”
“Ashley’s what—eighteen? Nineteen? Why not go for a woman your own age?”
He groaned. “You sound like my mom. She thinks I’m wasting my time on Ashley.”
“Why?”
“She’s been in trouble with the law a few times.”
I feigned ignorance. “For what?”
“Nothing awful. Petty theft. Drinking in the woods. Smoking pot in public.” The hint of a smile formed. “I like a woman who doesn’t bow to societal norms. It’s hot.”
“There’s a difference between wearing a nose ring and breaking the law.”
“Says you.” Tommy hesitated. “The thing is, I really like Ashley. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
“Did you see her talk to anybody else before she left?”
“No, she said she had to leave and walked straight out the door.”
“Did she say why?”
Tommy shook his head. “Didn’t see the point in asking. She would’ve lied anyway.”
Tommy Mennard seemed harmless, although I could understand Ashley’s aversion to him. Pestering her for a date, no matter how many ways he tried, wasn’t going to win him one.
“Do you think she’s … alive?” he whispered.
“We hope so.” No need to tell him about my ghostly radar if he wasn’t already aware.
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Can I get back to my friends now? It’s Doug’s turn to buy a round, and he always cheaps out if he can get away with it.”
“Go for it.”
He returned to his friends, and I strode to the counter to talk to the bartender. It wouldn’t be easy with this crowd, but if there was someone else here with information about Ashley, the bartender was the best person to tell me.
He tossed a beverage napkin on the counter. “What can I get you?”
“Information. I’m looking into the disappearance of Ashley Pratt.”
His brow furrowed. “You a cop?”
“No, but I have professional experience tracking people down.” That much was true.
He continued serving drinks while he spoke to me. The movements were second nature to him. “I saw her shoot down Tommy Mennard for the hundredth time, and then she left.”
“No arguments? No drama?”
He shook his head and passed a beer to an outstretched hand. “Nope. Nothing special about that night at all. I know Ashley’s been in trouble but never in here.”
“How often does she come here?”
He licked his lips, and I could tell he was debating the level of honesty he wanted to offer.
“I know she’s under twenty-one,” I continued. “I don’t care about that.”
