Page 86 of Bourbon Bliss
I was realizing very quickly that the guy behind the bar wasn’t the bartender. Or if he was, that was not all he was. I’d grown up playing sports. I knew the way players looked at their coach. And every guy in this bar, old or young, was looking to him.
He was no bartender. He was the gang leader.
“Smart girl,” he said.
I decided we should cut out while they were still acting friendly. They couldn’t be happy about the police out here investigating Callie’s story, and I didn’t want him to think we were a part of that. “Thanks. We appreciate the information.”
“Thanks for the autograph,” he said.
Transaction complete.
I pulled June off the stool and guided her, somewhat forcibly, toward the door. She started to say something but I hushed her. “They're letting us leave. We need to go.”
We got outside and into my car and I blew out a long breath.
“Most of those men were carrying guns,” June said, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Yes. Yes, they were. That didn’t bother you at all?”
“They’re members of a criminal biker gang. I expected they’d have weapons.”
“And you didn’t think about whether or not they’d turn those weapons on you?” I asked.
“Of course I thought about it,” she said. “I weighed the risks and deemed our chances of success high enough to make the attempt.”
“You’re a little bit badass, June Tucker.”
The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “Good thing they were fans.”
I shook my head. “No shit.”
“You know what this means?” June asked, her voice tinged with excitement. Her eyes were big and bright. “Callie Kendall’s story is a lie.”
28
June
After the trip to Hollis Corner, I was left with as many questions as answers. It was clear Callie’s cult—if there had been a cult at all—hadn’t been where she’d said it was. But what that meant in the grand scheme of things was still a mystery.
George reminded me that the simplest explanation was that she’d gotten the town’s name wrong. Maybe she’d believed she was somewhere else, and we’d been looking in the wrong town.
However, I argued that she’d been found on the highway just outside Hollis Corner. He had to concede my point.
So if she hadn’t been living in a compound outside Hollis Corner, where had she been? And why had she lied? Was she covering for the cult she’d left? Did the cult exist at all?
The questions tormented me. I ran through the options again and again, jotting down notes in a spiral notebook. The clues. The little bit of evidence I had.
The Kendalls had been silent in the media since their one public statement. There were a few straggling stories about Callie, mostly on conspiracy blogs, but for the most part, the attention had died down. The reporters and bloggers were busy chasing the next sensation.
My dad seemed to have decided he didn’t wish to talk about Callie’s case. I’d made attempts at engaging him in conversation, but he always changed the subject. Cassidy was similarly tight-lipped, with me at least.
That didn’t leave me much to work with.
I sat at my desk with my laptop, going through the fourteen—and counting—browser tabs I had open. Most of what I could find was information I’d been through before. Until I got to tab number eleven.
It was yet another story about Callie’s miraculous reappearance, but this one had a photo of her on a sidewalk. I saved the photo and opened it in another program so I could zoom in and study the details.
As I scrolled across the enlarged photo, Callie herself came into view, taking up most of the screen. I moved the photo to see her face. She didn’t appear to be aware she was being photographed. I zoomed out again so I could see her from head to toe. Nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like she’d come outside to check the mail or perform some other menial task.
