Jones didn’t have to wait long for his coffee. Sheena saw him come in and immediately started working faster to dispatch with everyone who was already in line. When Jones stepped to the register, Sheena passed a hastily made macchiato to a woman who clearly took her caffeine seriously. The customer shifted on expensive suede heels and made a face that telegraphed the complaint that was on its way. Sheena didn’t notice the face; she was already turning to look at Jones. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Jail.”
Sheena stared at Jones for a second and then she scrunched her nose and turtled her neck. “You look like shit. What the hell happened to you?”
“An eighty-year-old man beat me up,” Jones said.
Sheena rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
Jones looked to his left. Suede heels hadn’t budged. She pushed the cup back toward Sheena. “This isn’t what I ordered.”
Sheena made no effort to muffle her sigh.
“I asked for—”
“I remember.” Sheena picked up the cup and gave it to Jones. “Drink this.”
“That’s not what I want.”
Sheena spoke over the grinder. “Shut up. She gets to say that, not you.”
Suede heels clearly had an opinion about Jones and Sheena. He guessed it started with a hypothesis about their ages and then some quick math to confirm she had the right level of disgust. The jail comment probably didn’t help.
Sheena spoke over her shoulder while she worked. “You’re not drinking. I want to hear this story, and you need to be awake to talk.”
Suede heels made a noise that was meant to be heard; Jones ignored her and took a sip of the macchiato. The espresso was strong in his nose and bitter on his tongue. Jones felt it burn on the way down and he smiled through the pain as he felt the fog of exhaustion immediately start to thin.
Sheena gave suede heels a drink that closely resembled what Jones had in his hands, and for a moment he wondered if Sheena was messing with her. Suede heels glanced at the cup and found nothing to complain about this time. Sheena hadn’t waited around for a review; she stepped back to the machines behind the counter and returned with a cortado for Jones.
“Alright,” she said. “Go.”
“She called me.”
Sheena grabbed Jones’ shoulder and squeezed it harder than he thought she would have been able to. “Shut up.”
Jones noticed a veiny forearm exposed by her t-shirt and resisted the urge to rub his shoulder. “She saw the posters I put up.”
“Holy shit! I did not think thought that would work.”
“Really?”
“I think I just expected more from a real-life private investigator than lost cat posters.” Sheena grinned excitedly at Jones. “So?”
Jones shook his head.
Sheena’s smile fell away. “Is it bad?”
Jones nodded.
“How bad?”
“Kid runs away from a small town to the big city with dreams of making it as a singer.”
“I know that story,” Sheena said.
“Then you know how it ends.”
“Some of them make it.”
“Most don’t,” Jones said.
“Most go back home.”
“Lauren didn’t.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Jones drank the rest of his macchiato and gave Sheena the empty cup. “I’m going to go after her.”
That made Sheena smile. “Good.”
“I need to find her fast.”
“She in trouble?”
“Other way around,” Jones said.
Sheena smiled wider. Her teeth were straight and white. “Cops hot on your tail?”
Jones didn’t smile. “They should have a murder charge ready by tomorrow morning.”
“Jesus, I was kidding. I thought you were one of the good guys.”
“No such thing.”
Sheena wrinkled her nose while she considered what Jones had said. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t buy that. You’re a good guy, Jones.” The sound of the door opening caught her attention and drew her eyes away for a second. She smiled at the man walking toward her to let him know that she saw him, but she stayed with Jones. “What do you need from me?”
“More coffee and your WiFi.”
“Done.”