Theresa Monsour
a dog.” She had nine brothers, no sisters.
    â€œYour siblings are nuts. You can’t eat dinner at their houses without swallowing a pound of fur. Rawhide bones everywhere. Yard’s all tore up. They live in giant kennels.”
    â€œI’ll be sure to pass that compliment on to my brothers—and their wives.” She frowned and brushed the hair from her forehead with her fingertips. She wasn’t comfortable with bangs. Jack said he found them attractive, told her she looked like Cleopatra. She used to wear her hair parted down the middle and pulled back. She got bangs over the summer to help cover the scar, a constant reminder of the fight she’d gotten into with a killer.
    Jack popped open his beer and took a sip. “Forget the damn dog. Dog’s a bad idea.”
    She didn’t answer. She turned in her stool to see who she knew in the bar. The room had paneled walls, a low ceiling and was cloudy with smoke. Four guys in camouflage jackets were at a table playing cards and puffing oncigarettes. She recognized a couple of them. Retired towboat crew. Her family used to run a bar along the Mississippi that served river workers. The two men saw her and nodded. Another table was filled with guys in blaze orange caps. They were hunkered over a map, planning a deer hunt. Murphy was envious. She wished Jack was more of a hunter. Maybe she could get out this season with her brothers.
    She turned around to sip her beer. The television behind the bar was turned to the news. Gunnar walked over to switch channels when a female reporter came on. She was standing in front of a church, interviewing a tall man. “Stop,” Murphy said. She strained to listen. “Turn it up.”
    â€œOne of your cases?” asked Gunnar.
    Murphy didn’t answer. She stared at the screen. The reporter was talking about how the tall guy was a traveling salesman who’d volunteered to join a search party. They were looking for a Moose Lake woman who’d disappeared Friday night after a wedding. “A bridesmaid who vanished,” the reporter said. She emphasized the word bridesmaid to show it made the story different. Special.
    Jack watched his wife’s face. “What is it, Paris?”
    â€œI recognize him.”
    â€œFrom where? Work?”
    â€œNo. Can’t remember exactly. But not work.”
    â€œFuckin’ tall as a house,” said Gunnar. He grabbed a bar rag and wiped the counter.
    Murphy studied the man while he continued talking to the reporter about why he’d volunteered, how he’d wanted to help. His face was pale and smooth and his eyes dark. His lips were full. Almost a woman’s mouth. He had black, slicked-back hair. In a strange way, he was attractive. Seductive. He looked like a vampire from a black-and-white movie. His left ear was weird. Looked as if he had two lobes. Some kind of accident? More familiar than his face was his voice. He had a trace of southern drawl, and a stutter. She could tell he was concentrating on his speech, pausing at words that were threatening to turn into a problem.Who did she know with a stutter? No one came to mind.
    â€œHey!” yelled one of the deer hunters. “How about some ESPN instead of this crap?”
    â€œYeah. Yeah. Keep your shirt on.” Gunnar walked over to the television and switched channels.
    Murphy rubbed her arms; she had goose bumps under her sweatshirt, but not from the cold. Talking more to herself than to Jack: “I know him. How do I know him?”
    Jack drained his can and set it down. “How about some dinner, babe? Something from that Mexican market down the road. I could go for some beans and rice.”
    â€œI’ve got stuff in the fridge,” she said. She took one more sip of beer and slid off the bar stool. “Let’s get the guns and get outta here.”

FOUR
    THE SCHOOL BUS rattled down the road, kicking up a cloud that trailed behind like a phantom.
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