Page 64 of Jack

He noticed, however, the way the warmth died, a chill entering, as she looked at Harper. Nodded.

“Jenna,” Harper said, her mouth pinched.

Interesting.

They followed Jenna into an open room, to her desk. She pulled up a folding chair and set it beside a straight chair next to her desk. Harper took it as he sat in the other one.

“We’re here because we’re looking for Ty Bowman. He might be missing,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, folded her arms, leaned back. “Ty Bowman has a history of getting himself in over his head. Some petty theft a few years ago, and then he ran drag races out in the country,Greasestyle. It became a ring—until a teenager got hurt. And Fish and Game found him night hunting a few years ago. Recently, he was caught fishing out of season. And of course, there’s the drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“We’ve suspected for a while that he uses his Uber operation to transport drugs. We just can’t catch him. He’s probably lying low after grifting someone. What makes you think he’s in trouble?”

“We found—” Harper started.

“Him on camera picking up a friend of ours,” Jack said, glancing at her.Ixnay on the onephay. “But we also can’t get ahold of our friend.”

Jenna glanced at Harper, back to Jack. “Who is this friend?”

“Penelope Pepper.”

“From the Pepper family? Why is she in town?”

“She runs a podcast—she’s here for Brontë’s wedding.”

This seemed to perk Jenna up. “Is Oaken Fox at your place? I love?—”

“Yes,” Harper said. “But he’s not missing.”

Jenna’s mouth made a tight line. Apparently to match Harper’s.

Huh.

“How long has she been gone?”

“Since Tuesday.”

“You should have come to us sooner.” Jenna wiggled her mouse to wake up her computer.

“We weren’t sure she was in trouble. Still aren’t.” He had lowered his voice, but it came out sharper than he wanted.

Jenna considered him. He offered a smile. She sighed. “Let me take some notes.” She pulled up a blank page on her computer. “Okay, so you said Bowman picked her up? When?”

“Tuesday night. Around nine p.m. at the Moonlight Supperclub,” Harper said.

Jack ran down the details of her disappearance, with Harper interjecting as Jenna typed.

“We went to Bowman’s house last night and this morning, but no one is there.”

“Of course not.” A voice sounded behind him, and he looked over to see Sheriff Davidson. He carried a cup of coffee.

Jack stood, extended a hand. Harper smiled at him.

Portly and bald, he was stern and fair. And had been one of the few adults who’d believed a sixteen-year-old kid when he’d given his theory about where a lost Cub Scout might be.

Harper stood and the sheriff nodded to her. “Good to see you, Harper.”