“Sure, but they could have still run away together after their shift. They worked late hours at the club, and Crystal said they both closed that night, which happens at around three in the morning.”

“The fact remains that they were last seen at the club on Friday. Something must have happened. But what? Tabitha said Mud was up to no good. And the other dancers said Nikko and Dolly didn’t get along too well, so either they’re really good actors, or it’s unlikely they would run away together. What if they saw something they shouldn’t have and they either took off or someone did something to them?” I asked, feeling bad for how I’d phrased that last part.

Neely Kate nodded, looking worried. “I think you’re right.”

“We need to tell Joe what we know. Maybe it’s enough to get the sheriff’s department to do something.”

“I doubt it, but it’s worth a try.” She pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “I’ll give him a call. He’s gonna flip his lid when he finds out you were there.”

“It’s none of his business what I do.”

She snorted. “Like that’s gonna stop him.” A few seconds later she was telling him everything we’d discovered, only she left my name out of it, and she didn’t mention we’d visited the club. She only gave him the information we’d found. As the conversation went on, she got angrier and angrier.

“I tell you that I think my cousin probably saw something illegal, and you refuse to do anything about it?” she demanded.

I heard snatches of Joe’s voice through the phone. “. . . Neely Kate . . . you don’t know that . . . not enough . . . Friday afternoon . . .”

“When you can actually plan to perform your sheriff’s responsibilities, Joe Simmons, you let me know.” She hung up the phone and jammed it into her purse.

“That didn’t sound like it went well.”

“What’s it gonna take for them to get involved?”

“You heard Mason. They’re stretched thin right now, and she’s run off before. Maybe Joe thinks you’re exaggerating the evidence because you’re worried. I guess when you step back, it looks like they worked a shift together and ran off.”

“We have to find her, Rose.”

“We will.” I squeezed her hand. “I think I know what will make you feel better. Do you want some ice cream?”

“Does a bear poop in the woods?”

“I guess that’s a yes. But one slight problem. Mason asked me to stay away from the Burger Shack.”

“But it has the best soft serve ice cream in town.” She pursed her lips.

“I know, but after my vision of Eric, I promised Mason I wouldn’t go there.”

“Well, where are we gonna go?”

“The Emporium is a coffee shop now. I heard it serves ice cream. How about we go there?”

“Is it any good?” she pouted.

“It’s ice cream. Of course it’s good.” I cast her a pleading look. “Neely Kate, Mason specifically asked me to stay away from the Burger Shack, and I think he’s right. What if I have another vision? What if it gets me into trouble?”

She sighed. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. Turns out getting tackled, being snatched nearly bald, auditioning for a pole dancing job, and then throwing up on your old Sunday School teacher makes you cranky.”

I grinned. “I think you’re entitled. Not to mention you lost not one, but two jobs today.”

She snorted. “I’m really on a roll.”

“Are you going to tell Ronnie?”

She gave me a mock exasperated look. “He’s bound to notice when I don’t go to work tomorrow.”

“You know that’s not the part I’m talking about. Or maybe you shouldn’t mention that your stripping job didn’t turn out so great.”

“Hey! The dancing was great. Baby Ronnie Jr. just didn’t approve.”

“That baby’s a genius already.”

I parked the truck in front of the Emporium, which was located a couple of blocks north of the town square. The business had possessed the same name for years, but the owners were continually changing what it actually was. Previously it had been a drugstore and a bookstore, and it had also enjoyed a very brief run as a yoga studio.

“Are you sure it’s open?” Neely Kate asked as we walked to the door. “This parking lot is like a ghost town.”

“See,” I pointed to an old rusty car in the parking lot with its bumper partially hanging off. “There’s someone here.”

“Are you sure it’s not there as a decoration?”

If it was, they sure could use some help from RBW Landscaping, but when I opened the door, a scruffy-looking guy was sitting at a table for two, nursing a paper cup. “Look over there,” I whispered over my shoulder. “There’s a customer.”

“Are you sure that’s not a homeless man drinking a cup of coffee?”

I scowled. “He’s not a homeless man. Everybody knows the Baptist church finds vagrants like a metal detector finds coins. They scoop them up and take them to their center.”

“Concentration camp,” she muttered.

I shot her an exasperated stare. She was really in a humdinger of a mood this afternoon, but I guessed she deserved to wallow for a while. I saw another car pull into the parking lot and pointed to it. “Look there. Another customer. You do what you want, but we’re already here, so I’m getting something.”