First Girl Gone(22)

Charlie glanced over the menu at her friend.

“Would that work?”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

Charlie ordered a plate of nachos, one of the Lakeside Tavern’s so-called specialties. When the chips came out piled high with cheese, guacamole, sour cream, and beans, they both dug in. After a few bites, Zoe swiveled her stool so she was facing Charlie more squarely.

“OK. You’ve managed to sufficiently loosen my ordinarily fastidious morals by plying me with beer and nachos. What do you want?”

Grinning, Charlie leaned an elbow against the bar.

“I was curious if you’ve heard anything about Kara Dawkins.”

“Dawkins… Misty Dawkins’ kid?”

“That’s the one. She’s missing.”

“Ah. Right. I did hear some rumbling about that, now that you mention it. It’s not really my beat, you know, but the general consensus is that she ran off.” She shoved a chip loaded with guacamole and cheese into her maw and chewed. “So Misty hired you?”

“Yeah. She’s pretty worried. Came into my office sobbing and everything.”

“Well, I can tell you right now, we get one or two of these every month. Nine-point-five times out of ten, the kids are off somewhere, usually doing crap they’re not supposed to be doing. They run out of either money or alcohol and they come a-crawlin’ back.”

“And what about the point-five times out of ten when it’s something worse?”

Zoe gulped at her beer, finishing it off, and indicated to the bartender that she wanted another.

“Then we get involved. I’m just saying, a kid with that history? I mean, you heard about her getting arrested, right?”

“I did. But being troubled doesn’t preclude her from foul play. In fact, it might increase the odds.”

The bartender swapped Zoe’s empty for a fresh bottle, and Zoe gave a nod of thanks.

“That’s fair,” she said, lifting the bottle to her lips. “I’m curious, though. Have you found anything that suggests foul play? Actual evidence, I mean.”

“Maybe. She was supposed to meet a friend in Town Square Park. From their texting, it sounded like Kara showed. But when her friend got there a while later, she was gone.”

Tipping her head to one side, Zoe seemed to consider this.

“It’s kind of mysterious. I’ll grant you that.” Pausing with a chip halfway to her mouth, she added, “Town Square Park… Wednesday?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Zoe downed the morsel of food and licked a smear of sour cream from her thumb.

“We had some complaints from residents in that area about a black SUV speeding around, blasting music real loud, laying down rubber. More obnoxious than criminal, really.”

“The same day Kara went missing?”

Nodding, Zoe said, “I was the unlucky S.O.B. that got to go investigate.”

“What time was this?”

“Late. Between eleven and midnight.”

Charlie slouched against the bar, cheek resting on her fist.

“That’s several hours after Kara was supposed to meet her friend.”

She picked a black olive off the top of the nachos and ate it.

“I mean, I figured it was probably just a coincidence, anyway,” Zoe said. “It came to mind because it was the same part of town and all.”

Charlie could appreciate that. Zoe didn’t have to give her anything, after all.

“Did you get a plate? Or a make and model?” she asked, more to show her appreciation at the tip than anything else.

“Nah. They’d moved on by the time I got out there. But there was one identifying detail on the vehicle.”

“What was it?”

“A big sticker across the back that said No Fat Chix. That’s chix with an X.”

“Wow. Classy.”

Zoe shook her head, chuckling. “Yeah. Probably not a Harvard grad.”





Chapter Thirteen





As they finished off the plate of nachos, they reminisced about old times. The late crowd began to filter in, adding an ambient murmur of voices to the background of their conversation. Someone fired up the jukebox, playing “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. If Charlie was honest, her main motivation for staying for drinks with Zoe had been to question her about the Kara Dawkins case. But now that she was here, swapping nostalgic stories from their past, she was glad for it. Maybe that tingling swirl in her head of alcohol laying waste to brain cells was part of it.

The blonde waitress from earlier whisked past them with a tray full of cocktails. Zoe let out a heavy sigh.

“What?” Charlie said, sensing something odd in Zoe’s demeanor.

“Nothing. She is gorgeous. That’s all.”

The waitress was cute enough, Charlie thought as she studied her. The girl had angular brown eyes and a smattering of freckles over her nose, but Charlie still wasn’t sure what Zoe was getting at. Envy?

“The waitress? You’re just as pretty as she is.”

Zoe’s gaze slid over to meet hers.

“I’m not jealous, Charlie. I’m gay.”

“Oh.”

Zoe took a drink, smiling around the bottle. At least she seemed amused and not offended. “Did you really not know?”