“Anyway,” he continued. “She left to be with a guy, of course.” He wiped his mouth carefully with his napkin. “Ashlee told her parents she was going to move in with him, and naturally the parents freaked out. They forbade her to live with him—you can guess how well that went over.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his dry pickle burger. “So here I am.”
“Let me guess,” Cate said. “One of Ashlee’s girlfriends talked.”
“Nope.” Two fries vanished into his mouth. “I learned from the mother that Ashlee makes jewelry, and she hadn’t left any of her supplies behind. According to the mother, Ashlee only made stuff for friends, but I figured if Ashlee needs to support herself, the jewelry would be a logical place to start. I ran some reverse image searches on photos that her mother sent me, and nearly identical jewelry popped up on the website of your island store Sharp Objects.”
“Shiny Objects,” corrected Tessa. “But when you were in there, you didn’t tell the owner that she carried Ashlee’s jewelry. You only showed her photos of the girl.”
“I know better than to show my entire hand at once—I space things out over time and people. I was in there the day before and asked a different salesperson specifically about that jewelry. Most of the other displays had informational descriptions about the artists. The artist’s card on the pieces I think are Ashlee’s don’t say anything specific about the maker except that she believes she’s part wood nymph and finds her motivation in the sea and sky. The first salesperson told me it’s actually a man who sells and makes the jewelry.”
“Bummer,” said Tessa.
“I waited a day and showed Ashlee’s photo to a different salesperson. Struck out. No one in town I’ve shown the photo to recognizes her. I’d hoped when I saw you two come marching in that you knew her.”
Both women shook their heads.
Alan raised a brow, disbelief on his face. “So me simply asking questions around town was enough to earn a visit from the county sheriff’s department?”
Cate looked to Tessa, who answered. “No. We’re working on another case, and the timing of you asking questions was just too coincidental.”
Alan’s eyes narrowed. “In my twenty-five years of PI work, I’ve found that true coincidences rarely exist.” He nodded emphatically and downed the rest of the beer in his glass. “Now who are you ladies looking for?” His gaze was sharp as he glanced from Cate to Tessa.
The women exchanged a long look.
Cate was getting an honest vibe from the PI. He seemed professional and competent at his job. Her read of Tessa’s expression was that she felt the same. Alan appeared forthcoming and intelligent, and Cate liked his attitude.
“Would you believe it was your physical description that caught our attention?” asked Tessa. Subtle amusement danced in her eyes.
His brows shot up. “Me? What did my doppelg?nger do?”
“Nothing in a long time,” said Cate. “He’s been missing for seven years.”
“Fascinating.” Interest filled his face. “And you’ve kept an eye out this long? Tell me more.”
“Maybe another time. We’ll let you enjoy your lunch,” said Cate.
“But now you’ve got my curiosity piqued. Especially with the federal involvement.” He winked at Cate.
She stilled.
Alan grinned at her. “You’ve got ‘federal agent’ written all over you,” he said.
“No, I don’t.”
He leaned back in his seat, studying her from head to toe. “FBI? Marshals?”
“I’m a baker,” she blurted out. “I own a bookstore too.”