CHAPTER TWELVE
Roy Tanner’s Bar sat at the edge of Elmsview’s main drag, where the town began to loosen into tire shops, storage units, and fields that had not yet been sold to anyone with better plans.
Selena parked beneath the sign and looked up at it through the windshield.
The paint had faded under years of sun. On one side, a cartoonish Roy lifted a bottle of beer with a grin too wide for any human mouth.
On the other, blue musical notes curled around the bar’s name, most of them bleached almost white now.
Back then, she and Jessie had treated the place as if adulthood began and ended at Roy’s front door.
Connor had been part of that, too.
At first.
Then nights at Roy’s became arguments waiting for a reason.
Connor at the bar with his friends, drinking too fast, laughing too loud, one shoulder turning stiff whenever some man looked at him wrong.
Selena could still picture his hand closing around a bottle.
His grin fading. A shove near the pool table.
Chairs scraping back while Roy shouted for everyone to take it outside.
That Connor felt distant some days.
Other days, not distant enough.
A burst of static came from the portable radio on the passenger seat.
Arnold’s voice followed. “Agent Raven, you there?”
Selena picked it up. “I’m here.”
“Did you find Ray Parkinson, all right?”
“Not yet,” Selena replied. “His office said he went to Roy’s bar for a business meeting.”
Arnold laughed. “Wish I ran that type of business.”
“Any updates?”
“Just that he sent Chuck over to Carl Higgins’ place to get some security footage. We’re reviewing it now, but it looks like he was at his home last night. The chief switched his radio off after that, said he needed some time.”
Selena looked toward the road, half expecting the sheriff’s SUV to appear. It did not.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
She returned the radio to the seat, stepped out into the heat, and locked the car. The lot shimmered under the afternoon sun. Three pickups were parked closer to the entrance, all with work boots visible through the rear windows and dust filmed across the tailgates.
Music reached her before she opened the door. Low guitar, a slow drumbeat.
Selena pulled the door open.
Roy’s Bar wrapped around her at once.
The place was larger than it looked from outside, with a long bar to the left, booths against the far wall, and a small stage at the back where local bands had once played covers badly enough that everyone sang along to protect them.
Old beer had soaked itself into the boards over the years.
Fryer grease clung to the corners. The result hit Selena with embarrassing force.
It was almost like coming home.
A pool table sat near the side wall, green felt worn pale in the middle.
Framed photographs hung crooked above the booths.
Deer season winners. Softball teams. Men in ball caps holding fish with both hands.
A picture of Selena hung somewhere in this room, she was sure of it.
Twenty-two, sunburned, laughing, one arm around Jessie, the other around Connor before the rot had found them.
Her gaze went to the bar.
For one second, memory supplied Connor on a stool, younger and broader in his own mind than any man had a right to be. Beer in hand. Friends beside him. Temper close to the surface. She could see the moment before trouble. The way his mouth changed. The way the room watched him without looking.
Now he wore a badge and asked to be trusted.
Selena hoped he had changed.
The man behind the bar turned while drying a glass with a towel. Roy Tanner had put on weight through the middle and lost more hair, but his face was the same, round and cheerful with eyes that missed less than people assumed.
The towel stopped moving.
“Well, now,” Roy said. “That’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time.”
Selena crossed to the bar. “Don’t make me feel old, Roy.”
“You’ll never be as old as me.” He set the glass down and leaned both hands on the bar. “Selena Raven. Look at you. FBI and everything.”
“Careful. You’ll make me blush.”
“Never saw you blush once in all the years you came in here.” His smile softened. “It’s great to see you. How’s your dad doing?”
The question landed in a place Selena had been avoiding since she arrived.
Her father did not know she was in Harlan County. Two murder investigations, Connor, the case board, and the press of old streets had given her enough excuses to leave the call for later. None of them sounded good when Roy asked it plainly across a bar.
“He’s good,” she said.
Roy studied her for half a second. Still, he nodded.
“Good to hear.” He reached under the bar. “What can I get you?”
“I’m here on business, Roy.”
“That’s a shame. Business ruins most things.”
“I need to find Ray Parkinson. His office said he was here.”
Roy glanced past her toward the back corner. “Sure. Ray’s the one in the Stetson.”
Selena turned.
Ray Parkinson sat alone at a two-person table near a window with the blind half lowered.
His hat rested on the chair beside him. A beer glass stood in front of him, already halfway empty.
He wore a pale shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a bolo tie that did him no favors.
On the table lay a folder, closed and untouched.
“Thanks,” Selena said.
“Selena?”
She looked back.
Roy’s good humor had lowered a little. “Whatever this is, watch yourself. Ray smiles plenty, but that doesn’t mean he’s friendly. A viper that one.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She stepped away.
Ray looked up when her shadow crossed the table.
“Ray Parkinson?”
“Yeah?”
Selena opened her badge wallet. “Agent Selena Raven. FBI.”
His eyebrows rose. A smile followed, practiced and quick. “Now why would a pretty FBI agent like yourself come and ruin a perfectly good solitary moment like this?”
Selena slid into the chair opposite him without being invited. “Your office said you were in a meeting here.”
Ray looked at the empty seat beside him, then at the closed folder. “Ah, well. I might have exaggerated. You know how it is. I don’t want the troops thinking they can slack off, too. I’ve earned the odd quiet hour.”
He took a heavy drink from his beer, wiping his mouth afterward with the side of his thumb.
“I’d like to ask a few questions,” Selena said.
“I’d much rather have a beer with a pretty one like you.”
“Pretty or not, I have the power to arrest you if I think you’re involved in a double homicide.”
Ray’s color changed fast.
His hand tightened around the glass. “Please, keep your voice down.”
“Then help me keep this short.”
Ray looked toward the bar. Roy had turned away, but Selena knew he was listening.
“You had a visit from the sheriff,” she said.
“Yeah. I did.” Ray dragged the folder closer by an inch, as if it might protect him. “And I had nothing to do with what happened to Warren, before you ask.”
“Do you know Victor Schmidt?”
Ray stared at her. “Victor?”
“That’s right.”
“Sure I do. Been to his house a couple of times. His wife cooks a mean roast.”
“Are you close?”
“Not particularly.” Ray leaned back, trying to rebuild the posture he had lost. “You kind of rub shoulders with other business leaders in the community. Charity breakfasts, planning meetings, chamber nonsense. Vic was a decent enough man.”
“Victor was murdered during the night.”
Ray’s eyes widened.
“My God.” The words came out in a lower voice than before. “Same as Warren?”
“We’re not sure yet. But it may be the start of something bigger.”
Ray looked down at his beer. The bravado did not return this time. “Damn.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Now look.” Ray lifted both hands. “I had nothing to do with Warren, and I certainly didn’t have anything to do with Vic. I liked the guy.”
“But you didn’t like Warren.”
Ray’s hands lowered. He took another drink, smaller this time. “I’m sorry they’re both dead. Truly. I just hope this doesn’t turn into something that spooks the community. That sort of thing is bad for business.”
Selena’s pen stopped. “I think we should worry about life more than money.”
Ray gave her a rueful tilt of the glass. “Touché.”
“Last night,” she said again. “Where were you?”
“I was at the office late. Left around one in the morning. My secretary can verify.”
“Your secretary was there until one?”
“Yes. Denise. Denise Lowry. We had paperwork backed up from a closing that went sideways.”
“What closing?”
“Land near Mercer Creek. Nothing to do with Warren or Victor.”
“I’ll decide what matters once I’ve verified it.”
Ray’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. “You are prickly, ain’t ya?”
“And after one in the morning, where did you go?”
“I went straight home.”
“Anyone see you arrive?”
“My son. He’s staying with me. I’d forgotten my keys, and he let me in.”
Selena wrote it down. “When was that?”
“Probably one-thirty.”
“Probably?”
“I didn’t check my watch. I was beat. He let me in, I went upstairs, and that was that.”
“Your son’s name?”
“Travis.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Is Travis still at your home?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll need the address.”
Ray hesitated for one second too long.
Selena looked at him over the top of the notebook.
He gave it to her. “Just don’t spook my son. He’s a sensitive type.”
She wrote carefully, then closed the notebook. “I’ll have one of the deputies verify what you’ve told me.”
“Is that it?”
“For now.”
Selena stood. Ray stayed seated, but his hand had gone back to the glass.
“Nice Stetson, by the way,” she said.
Ray glanced at the hat on the chair and found some of his smile again. “Thanks.”
“You fancy yourself somewhat of a cowboy?”
“Something like that, sweetheart.” He leaned back farther. “You want me to whisk you off your feet?”
"No." Selena tucked the notebook into her jacket. "But you'll understand when I say that, don't leave town."
The smile fell away.
Selena walked back toward the bar.
Roy met her eyes as she passed. “Everything all right?”
“Nice seeing you, Roy.”
Outside, afternoon light struck hard enough to make her squint. The heat inside the car had built while she was in the bar, trapping itself against the seats and steering wheel. Selena opened the door and leaned in, then flinched when her hand touched the wheel.
“Great.”
She started the engine and tried to lower the driver’s window. The glass moved down three inches, caught, and stuttered in place.
Selena pressed the switch again.
Nothing.
Of course.
She shook her head, put the air conditioning on, and sat for a moment while warm air blasted from the vents before beginning to cool.
The radio stayed silent.
Her phone sat in the cup holder. She picked it up and called Connor.
He answered on the fourth ring. “Chase.”
“It’s Selena.”
A pause. “What’s up?”
“How did it go with Carl?”
“Eh... You know. Fine. I guess.”
Selena closed her eyes for a second. She knew that sound. Years ago, Connor had used the same voice when she asked where he had been. The same careful emptiness. The same space where the truth had been folded away before it could be seen.
Back then, he had told her he was not having an affair.
Deep down, she had wanted to believe him.
But there were anonymous calls. Late nights where he rushed off somewhere and seemed on edge.
The smell of perfume on him. And then finally, the woman.
The woman who came to Selena’s father’s home to see her.
To tell her something. But she had been run down by a driver who was never caught.
Selena had watched her die in the street.
Whatever secret she had about Connor had seemed to die with her.
The vents buzzed harder.
“You didn’t do anything you’ll regret, did you?” she asked.
“No.”
“Connor.”
"I'm not a hot-headed kid anymore, Selena."
The answer came quick enough to trouble her.
“Good,” Selena said. “Because I wouldn’t want to mothball you.”
“Mothball me?” Irritation sharpened his voice. “I’m the sheriff. It was me that called your office.”
“Yes, you called. But this is now a federal investigation. Please don’t do anything to jeopardize that. I can tell there’s something you’re not saying.”
Silence came through the line.
Selena watched Roy’s sign tremble faintly in the heat outside. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your job because of how upset you are about Warren and Vic.”
“Yeah,” Connor said, “well, you tell me that when two of your buddies are shot inside three days, one of them almost as close to you as a brother.”
“That’s why I’m saying it.”
“I’ve got to go.” The line buzzed.
“Where?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Connor was being tight-lipped, and Selena knew that meant something was going on.
“Let’s meet at the station,” she offered. “We can go over the evidence board. See what we have.”
“No. Not right now.”
Her grip tightened around the phone. “You’re worrying me, Connor.”
A long breath came through the speaker. Then his voice lowered.
Connor let out a long breath. “I’d ask you to trust me, but then I guess trust has never been our strong suit.”
The words opened old ground so fast Selena had no answer ready.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
“Connor.”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll call later.”
The line clicked dead.
Selena lowered the phone and stared through the windshield.
Roy’s Bar sat in front of her with its faded sign and familiar door, pretending time moved in clean lines.
It did not. It waited in old rooms and familiar voices.
It sat on the other end of a call and asked for trust after giving too many reasons for doubt.
She could have handled that better.
Or maybe Connor had come back from Carl Higgins with something to hide.
Selena looked at her watch. The day was sliding away from her, and she still had Ray’s alibi to verify, Carl’s security footage to obtain, Victor’s business dispute to untangle, and Warren’s old partnership to pick apart.
At least she had something to pick apart.
She put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot, the stuck window rattling softly as she turned toward the sheriff’s department. A few more hours with bank records and cell phone calls might give her something useful before the day ended.
Anything.
Because the feeling in her chest had not eased since Victor’s body appeared on the board.
Whoever was behind the murders had chosen men with enemies, men with business disputes, men whose deaths would send suspicion running in several directions at once.
That kind of killer did not stop because the county got scared.
He only stopped when someone found him.