Page 26 of The Missing Half

It’s Saturday evening, just over twenty-four hours since Wyler did his best to tell us Steve McLean wasn’t our guy, and I’ve had a long day. I spent two hours at the animal shelter this morning, where I tried and failed to hang with Banksy because Pam was following me around like some court-appointed babysitter, then nine hours at Funland—burning my fingertips from lighting so many birthday candles, going hoarse from all the singing. I smell like wet dog and pizza grease and now, on top of it all, meat.

Jenna hadn’t been able to find McLean on social media during her online search, so we’re doing things the old-fashioned way and trying to track him down here, the last place we know he worked. Between his rap sheet and the high turnover rates of restaurants, we assume he hasn’t worked here in years and that anyone he used to work with is long gone too. But asking around is the only shot we have.

A waiter around my age sidles up to our booth. He’s got floppyhair and an amused-looking smile. He introduces himself as Matty, then asks if we know what we’d like to drink.

“I’ll take a—” I almost finish the sentence withglass ofred wine.I could, no doubt, get away with it. The odds of running into one of the few people who know about the parameters of my intervention program are minuscule. But then I hear the screeching tires and crunching metal as I hit that tree. I see the red-and-blue lights of the officer pulling up behind me. Guilt, like fire, burns me from the inside out. “I’ll just take a water.”

Jenna asks for the same, and Matty leaves, then reappears a few minutes later to deliver them. “You two know what you’d like to eat?”

“Actually,” I say, “we were wondering—” Jenna kicks my shin beneath the table.

Matty looks back and forth between us, that amused smile on his lips. “You were wondering…?”

“If there are any specials,” Jenna finishes.

“Uh, no, sorry. But the steak is good tonight.”

“Great. I’ll take that. With a salad and baked potato on the side.”

I hesitate, looking over the menu, wondering if I should get the cheapest thing I can find or just nothing at all. Before I can decide, Jenna says, “She’ll have the same.” I open my mouth to protest, but she waves it off and Matty turns to leave. “It’s on me.”

My throat tightens. People are always taking care of me—Brad, my lawyer, my probation officer—but they seem to do it more out of obligation than affection. I haven’t experienced Jenna’s kind of generosity since before Kasey went missing. “Thank you.”

She shrugs. “You should really eat something other than candy every once in a while, Nic.”

A smile pulls at my mouth. “Hey, why’d you cut me off earlier? I was gonna ask him if he knew this fucking pervert we’re looking for.”

“That’s why,” she says.

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t have used those exact words.”

“We have to come up with a plan. Think about it. If we come out swinging and we’re talking to someone who knows McLean, someone who may actuallylikethe guy, they probably won’t want to talk to us.”

“All right, all right,” I say. “What’s the plan, then?”

“I think our best bet is to talk to the employees who’ve been here the longest, find someone who knew someone who knew him.”

“Right. Okay.”

“And I was thinking we should ask a female employee. We don’t want to say why we’re looking for him off the bat, but if it comes to that, a woman may have more empathy for what we’re doing.”

But I’m no longer listening. Something just behind Jenna’s shoulder has caught my eye. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Jenna turns, looking into the dining room, a sea of red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and fatty meat glistening on plates.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say.

Jenna spins around to face me. “What’re you talking about? And what are you looking at?” Again, she looks at the room of people.

“Not there. There.” I point to a plaque on the wall just behind her shoulder. It reads, in bold letters,employee of the year, Steve Mclean.It’s from last year.

“Oh, screw that,” Jenna says acidly. “You’ve got to be—”

But just then Matty returns, placing two side salads in front of us. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys at the moment?”

“Actually, yeah. Just a quick question.” Jenna points at the plaque. “Is that guy working tonight by chance?”

Matty gazes at it. “Oh, Stevie?” he says with a grin. “Yeah, he’s here. He’s working the bar.”

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