The Shepherdess

The Budweiser girl on the vintage clock smiled down on her flock. Like any shepherdess, she was on the lookout for danger. Her faded skin suggested she might have been lovely once but now seemed tired and slow after years of vigilance, awaiting the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Pete Thornton could relate.He too felt tired and spent. He gave the shepherdess a nod, as he did every night.It was 7:40 PM and time for a ballgame.

Although he didn’t know it yet, Pete too was being watched. His actions recorded and his demeanor scrutinized.

“Another,” said Murphy.

Pete waved the bartender off, twelve max and he was a third of the way there already. It was all about pacing. He rubbed the callous around his ring finger. The alcohol took the edge off, and the more he drank, the less he missed her.

The regulars were seated in their usual spots. The black tied and high healed professionals were thinning and the bar quieting to a hum.Murphy, all seeing and all knowing, kept the alcohol flowing.

Pete’s phone rang.

NO CALLER ID. Pete killed it and packed his laptop. Settling in for the night, the sounds of the bar brought comfort and a sense of being, if just for a few hours.

A door opened. The air around Pete felt heavier with a change in pressure.

She wore faded jeans and a hoody. Her auburn hair flung back with green eyes; sunglasses sat atop her head. She looked like a former showgirl who now dressed the part of a suburbanite.

“Hi, you mind,” she asked, pointing to the chair next to him.

Dear God, not tonight, Pete thought.

The woman laid her bag on the bar top and made herself at home.

Pete wasn’t surprised when she spun around, crossed her knees and faced him. He was

already thinking how to tactfully send her away. The Thunder were about to tip off.

Before he could say he wasn’t interested, her hand was out.

“Susan,” she said.

Pete shook and then reached for his beer as a lifeline, taking a quick pull and waving down Murphy.

“Look,” he said. “I’m flattered and all, but probably not what you’re looking for. If you wouldn’t mind, I think…”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and interrupted. “…think what, we should go our separate ways?” Her expression said she was trying not to laugh.

“… before we ever meet? But don’t you think the whole star-crossed lover thing could work?”

Pete scratched his head and ignored her. She was smooth.

The ball was in play and the Thunder had possession. Pete checked the time.

“Trust me, not why I sat down,” she said, back to serious.

Pete glanced at Mike and Herb, two travelling salesmen who staked out the same stools every night. Both waived back smiling, neither any help.

Pete looked at the woman over the top of his beer.

“I need your help”

“Then you came to the wrong bar.”

Susan glanced at the leather journal on the bar top. “American Eagle Insurance Appraisers, headquartered out of Arlington, Virginia. I know you guys. Heard a bunch of you were down here with the tornadoes and hail damage. Pretty bad, huh?”

Pete nodded his head. “You could say that.”

“How long have you been in town?”

“Going on three weeks,” Pete said, refusing to take the bait.

The Spurs sunk a three pointer and were ahead by one.

Damn!

The bartender put Pete’s beer down with a thud and looked at Susan with eyes raised.

“Diet Coke.”

Susan eyed Pete through the mirror, across from them, and gave a hesitant smile, then tracked to the clutter taped around the mirror. She cleared her throat.

Pete still ignored her, concentrating on the Thunder’s defense.

“There was a girl in here two weeks ago, early twenties, blond. Used to be pretty, heart tattoo below her left ear.”

Pete felt his gut lurch.

“What does this have to do with me,” he asked.

“You might have been the last person to see her alive.”

8:30 PM

There was clapping…Thunder up by two. Pete waited for his heart to slow and rubbed his eyes. Two women were arguing in the back booths.

Murphy brought Susan her drink and staked his territory, putting his elbows on the bar top.

“Is this fella bothering you, Ma’am,” the old man said, grinning with wrecked teeth. “Because if he is, I’ll drag him out by the scraw of his neck and teach him some manners.”

Pete rolled his eyes, he’d seen it before. The ancient bartender flirting like a twenty year old. It was a show. His customers loved him. Pete tolerated him.

“Oh dear,” said Susan, and then in an Irish brogue to match Murphy, “You would take this mean ol’ man out and whip him for a wee filly?”

Murphy clapped his hands together, his cheeks turning even more red.

“Murph, is that accent even real,” Pete interrupted.

The old man feigned surprise. “Well, if he don’t get in the spirit,” he said to Susan, “let this bloke have a chance. I may look old, but I still have a fighting spirit.”

Susan smiled but gave a sideways glance at Murphy as he ambled off.

She’d seen it all, Pete thought.

“Lot of questions, right,” Susan was still trailing the bartender, who was turning on the charm at the other end of the bar. Turning to Pete, she said, “That was me that called a few minutes ago.That’s how I know.”

Pete nodded, glancing at his cell phone. Now, it made sense.

“I look for missing girls. It’s what I do for a living. Two weeks ago, a twenty two year old went missing”

“What was her name?”

“Dana.”

Pete closed his eyes, trying to remember, another ghost he couldn’t save.He’d tried picturing the girl. He’d no idea what her name was. Just a vague memory of desperation. He didn’t offer her money or to buy her food or to make sure she was safe. Just lent her his phone. And then she was gone. Another ghost.

Susan said, “Tell me the story.”

And he did. As much as he could remember.

9:30 PM

“So, she called her grandmother?” Pete shook his head and clinched the bridge of his nose, wanting to check on his own daughter’s safety. “What are the chances she’ll be found?”

Susan shrugged and sipped her soft drink. “I was lucky to get this far. I had your number from the grandmother’s phone records. I called in a favor and learned it was registered to your company but couldn’t get any further. On a hunch, I came south when I heard about the tornados and the insurance agents flooding the area.

“That’s a big gamble.”

“Not really,” she said. “This is the Midwest. Kids pass through in the thousands every year and are never heard from again. It makes sense if you look at a map. You know, right in the middle of the country. I got in town a few hours ago, found the bus station and I’ve been walking since, showing Dana’s picture to the homeless, popping into the shelters and looking in every bar to see what’s what. I saw you sitting over there, made a pass and saw the logo on your notebook. That’s when I called. It’s not always this easy finding a lead.

Pete nodded. “What now?”

“You said it was late when she used your phone, what were you doing?”

Pete looked at his beer, and motioned Murphy for another. “The lights were still dim,” he said. “Usually, Murphy does a last call and then turns on the lights.You know, kind of wake everyone up and tell them the bar is closing, without actually saying the place is closing.”

“So still dark?”

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe he didn’t do it that night, and besides I was sloshed.”

Herb pushed his stool in, waved to Murphy he was done and gave Pete a wink before he walked out.

Pete kept his eyes on his beer.

Susan stirred with her straw, before she answered. “Eighty to one,” she said.

Pete jerked up.

“Against her being found. Sorry.”

He swallowed. “I should have known. I could have done something more and maybe have made a difference”. Pete hid his clenched hands beneath the bar, but Susan noticed anyway.

Murphy eyed him from the other end of the bar, tilting his head.

“Tell you what, you did more than most. You lent your phone,” Susan said, “And I’m not going to lie, there’s nothing you could have done aside from tying her up and carrying her over your shoulder that would have made any difference in getting her back home.

“Your pity is better spent elsewhere.”

“Not pity if sincere, besides, you need a friend.”

“Are you offering?”

“A conversation over drinks, sure. Anything else, no.”

“Cute,” Pete said, looking up at the Budweiser girl, unsure if she was frowning.

“Any chance she went back to the bus station and kept going?”

He was trying to remember and felt a ping, something in the back of his mind.“Wait…” He snapped his fingers.

“I was leaving and I thought it funny she was sitting next to Herb. Maybe he bought her a drink or pretzels or something.”

“You mean the guy that left a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Why’d you think it was funny?”

“You saw the man, would you sit next to him?”

Susan ignored the question, but said, “If you remember that, there’s more.”

Pete shared what he knew about the man from three weeks of bar chatter and waived Murphy to join them. He explained why Susan was asking and asked what the bartender knew about Herb.

Murphy sighed and closed his eyes, finally said, “Don’t really know much more than you. Doesn’t cause trouble and likes his Makers. Don’t tip worth a damn, but who does.”

“How about a name on his credit card,” Susan said.

“No, always pays cash.”

Susan pulled her phone from her back pocket and excused herself.

“Anything else I can do, besides drink beer?” He said it aloud and to no one. He hoped Dana would be found. That someone else would lend her a phone and she would call home for bus fare. But that was a pipe dream.

Susan sat down, frowning.“We’ll see,” she said. “Put out some more feelers.”

Pete shook his head and then noticed faded bus tickets on the bar mirror, tucked behind brochures for Hollywood, and asked, “Where was she headed, remember?”

Within the bar’s memorabilia, the names of cities stood out in bold…Philadelphia, NYC, LA, Tampa and more, written across T-shirts, city maps, boarding passes and tourist trinkets.

“Don’t know,” she said. “Not sure she knew. Most of them don’t. When she called her Grandma she just wanted to let her know she was ok, so she wouldn’t be worried. Good chance she had enough money to get this far and that was it and that’s probably why she didn’t stay in the bus station. Betting she was making it up as she went.”

“Did you already check the morgues, and those kinds of places?”

“No, not yet, but will tomorrow morning, before I get on the road.”

“Where to,” he asked.

Susan bit her lip. “Driving down to DFW. Maybe I’ll get lucky again?”

Pete smirked.

“After that, head back home and start working the next name. Dana is just one of many.”

“Do you know why she left,” he asked.

Susan shrugged. “They’re all different and all the same. She looked at her watch and seemed to debate what to say. “Do you want to know about her?”

Pete nodded his head.

Susan held her finger up to catch Murphy’s attention. “Another,” she mouthed.

The first quarter of the game ended after the Spurs made two free throws. Murphy slid another beer to Pete and refilled Susan’s glass. The sounds of the bar blurred as Susan spoke.

The second quarter brought stories Pete wished he hadn’t heard. The woman’s voice was soft, looking inward, taking pauses when she needed and filling gaps with inane stories of a lost girl. She described birthday parties and a soccer match as if she had been there.

“It was after a game, her grandmother bought a necklace with you know, a little soccer ball hanging from it. It was gold. She never took it off, even when she got older.”

Before the third quarter was over, Pete thought he knew this woman on the surface. Anything deeper, he had no clue. And questioned why anyone would put themselves through this kind of torment.

By the fourth quarter, Pete fought emptiness. Guilty for comfort in a routine that came with a new city every few weeks. Regrets over the wife he couldn’t save and remorse for the latest, Dana. Another ghost to haunt his dreams.

Chairs were being stacked and the bar was wiped down.

“Why do you do this,” he finally asked.

Susan exhaled loudly, “Maybe another time for that one.”

“I think you’re chasing ghosts.”

“You would certainly know,” she said.

Pete looked at the bar’s memorabilia, knowing he had pushed too far when something caught his eye and he frowned, trying to make it out.

The overhead lights came on and the shadows receded. Pete blinked.

“Huh,” he said, under his breath.

He looked up at the Budweiser girl, her eyebrows raised.

“Wait,” Pete said for the second time that night. “Why would you leave a bus ticket in a bar.”

Susan eyed him curiously.

“For a destination you had yet to arrive.”

11:00 PM

Susan’s lips parted, wanting to say something, but instead she stood to look closely at the memorabilia, and then turned back to Pete. “Most of these tickets have destinations that aren’t Oklahoma City,” she said, walking behind the bar and scrutinizing the tickets. “And each is for a single rider.”

“Maybe passing through?”

Pete noticed for the first time that the bar was empty, and it felt antiseptic, bathed in harsh overhead light.

Susan pulled a bus ticket from the mirror. “This one is from February of 2004.” She let it fall to the bar and found another. “Even older, 1998”. She dropped it as well and reached for a polaroid. Looking quickly and without speaking, she handed it to Pete.

The picture was old and out of focus, had to have been decades old, but two girls waived and smiled. “Something else,” Pete said. “Why is this a picture that would make it on a bar mirror? I mean, what’s the significance. Two girls waiving. This would have been on my daughter’s mirror in her bedroom, not in a bar.”

“What does all of this stuff have in common,” Susan asked.

Pete stood.

Susan spun around and pointed behind her. “There’s nothing up there that comes from a male. All this stuff, like you said, could have come from a teenage girl. Or a bunch of them.”

“Susan, we need to leave.” Pete reached for her, but she pulled away.

She held her finger up, ignoring Pete and moving down the mirror He understood now, she was looking for a killer’s trophy.Pete swung his legs over the bar.

“Help me, I know its gotta be here. You said so yourself, you thought you left before she did.” She was moving faster now, pulling handwritten cards from the mirror and reading quickly.

“Is this what you’re looking for,” said Murphy.

A glass mug was knocked to the floor and shattered. Pete put himself between Susan and the bartender.

There was no Irish brogue now. He held a gold necklace in his hand. The soccer ball dangled. “She didn’t want to give it up,” he said. “None of ‘em do.”

Sweat ran down the back of Pete’s neck. The bar separated them. The levity of the last few minutes hit. Murphy didn’t possess the swagger and smile he had seen the last few weeks. He looked like a shriveled old man given the verdict of cancer.

“I knew it when I saw you walk in,” he said, nodding to Susan. “I don’t know how or why, but I felt it. Then when you mentioned Herb and then the girl, I knew it was over. I was watchin’ you two all night, listenin when you thought I was gabbing. You’d figure it out, I knew it.”

“Her name was Dana,” Susan whispered.

Murphy shrugged. “I know.She was one of my girls. Not as sweet as some, but she had a good flavor. They were drawn to me, you know.

Murphy eyed his trophies. “They wanted me more than I needed them, but I couldn’t say no.”

Pete stared into empty eyes.

“Its alright, you two did good and I had my run.” The old man turned and ambled out.

***

Pete’s head ached. Statements had been given and an hour turned to three. He and Susan were separated as soon as the first officers arrived. The adrenalin had long worn off and coffee helped, but not enough. Whatever happened tonight would hit him, but not yet. He wasn’t ready.

Pete rubbed the bridge of his nose, watching technicians in white suites crawl around the bar, carefully taking each memento from its position and place in plastic bags. He looked up at the Budweiser girl as she watched over her flock. He couldn’t make out her expression but hoped he had made her proud.

Later, in his hotel room, attempting sleep, his phone pinged with a text.Through blurry eyes, he read:

Pete…You did good. You’ve reminded me why I still do this. Soon, a lot of families will find comfort from your actions. No, not happiness, but peace. Go find yours. Call me when ready.

S.