Page 9 of 44.1644° North
Maybe he’d remembered he had his wallet on him after all? Maybe he’d realized he’d left his wallet in the pub? Or, yes, maybe he’d realized his plans for assault and bodily harm had been thwarted?
He was definitely heading straight back to the Swiftwater.
“Just who the hell are you?” Realizing I was asking the wrong person, I belatedly sprinted after the figure now making haste for the pub.
Running in snow—old snow that had melted and refrozen a few times—was a laborious process. The waffle soles of my boots couldn’t get any real purchase, and the faster I tried to go, the more precarious was my balance. I slipped once, landing on my knee, but was up instantly and running—with all the grace of an elderly yeti.
I was still a couple of yards behind as the other man jogged unhurriedly up the porch steps of the pub, pushed open the door, and disappeared inside.
Eventually I reached the pub, perspiring and out of breath as I staggered up the steps. Blake and Tony had vacated the premises, but a cluster of young women, disciples of the murder-and-makeup sisterhood, dressed for the slopes of St. Moritz, were laughing and taking selfies.
I puffed, “Did you…see that…guy…who just went inside?”
They dropped their poses, lowered their phones, but clearly had no idea what I was talking about.
“Which guy?” asked a stately blonde. She was wearing a pink parka and a pink beanie embroidered with the words:I’m just here to establish my alibi.
“There are a lot of people coming and going,” pointed out her dark-haired companion. She was dressed in a fur-lined white parka and a white quilted beanie decorated with little skulls, gravestones, hearts, and blood spatter. “You included.”
“He just walked by you, like two minutes ago.”
They shook their heads in unison. I made a sound of frustration and moved past them, shoved open the door to the pub, and nearly fell back at the wall of sound.
I couldn’t have been outside for more than ten minutes. Fifteen at most. But either a lot more people had arrived in that time, or a lot more drinks had been served. My hasty scan of the room didn’t reveal anyone who looked out of place. The bartenders were hustling behind the bar. Waitstaff, trays held high, were fighting their way through the mob. And the partygoers—er, attendees—were drinking, talking, laughing. It could have been any conference in any field of endeavor. No one seemed to be attempting to hide. A few people glanced my way and returned to their conversations.
Had henotcome inside?
I began to work my way toward the rear exit, which was at the end of a small hallway leading to the lavatories and storeroom.
What was the maximum occupancy of this place?
Safe to say, it was currently being exceeded. There had to be over ninety people jammed into a room built to accommodatemaybesixty.
A few people called out to me, but I ignored them. I spotted Hailey at the table we’d shared earlier. She was engrossed in conversation with the duo fromDiscovering Deirdre.
No sign of RoryYou People. Couldhebe—
No. Unlikely. If anything, Rory had given off a cop vibe.
Granted, one of the theories in Deirdre’s disappearance was that local law enforcement had some involvement. But that was not the prevailing or even a particularly popular opinion.
But nothing about Rory indicated he was local. He had that Mid-Atlantic Maryland accent, and his winter weather gear looked like he’d bought it from Patagonia.
Speak of the devil.
As I ducked into the short hallway leading to the fire doors, I spotted Rory on a pay phone.
“…cell service is sketchy as hell up here. Anyway, I know this is a DND weekend, but can I talk to him? I’ll make it fast.”
There was no one else in the hall, and the doors to the exterior looked firmly shut. But that didn’t mean no one had gone through here in the last couple of minutes.
Rory listened for a moment and then laughed. “Hey, he might be one of thesanerones. Which isn’t saying—” He broke off, looking acutely self-conscious at the sight of me.
“Did a guy in a hoodie come back here?” I demanded.
“Sorry?”
“A guy in a hoodie. Did he come back here?”
