AFTER CONFERRING WITH SHERIFF SKINNER, WE HEAD TO THE Mountclair Tavern to catch a bite before heading back to Graybridge. The place isn’t busy, a little early for dinner or drinks, but there are a couple of guys at the bar, drafts in front of them, engaged in conversation with Sid the bartender.

The waitress comes over, a smile on her face, probably grateful for something to do. She’s young, a messy bun atop her head. She asks us for our drink order, all the while glancing at “FBI” printed on Joe’s and Agent Metz’s jackets. Her round blue eyes then wander to my badge and service weapon as I stand and strip off my coat. She scurries away but returns promptly with a New England IPA for each of us.

“What can I get you guys to eat?” she asks, a slight tremble in her voice. After writing down our orders on her notepad, she starts to walk away, but spins back around.

“Are you here about Annalise?” she asks Joe.

“Yes. Did you know her?”

“Everybody knew her.” She puts a hand on her hip, glances over her shoulder. “I don’t know if I should say anything. I mean, I don’t want to overreact or get anybody in trouble.”

Chase fumbles his phone out of his pocket.

“You know something that might help us?” I ask.

“Probably not.” She blows out a breath, scattering her bangs. “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t working the night she disappeared, but something kinda strange happened before that.”

I take out my notebook. “Why don’t you tell us anyway.”

“Okay.”

Chase says, “You mind if I record you?” He holds up his phone.

She glances at Joe then back at me. “No. I guess not.”

We have her state her name, which is Melissa Haskins, the date, yada, yada.

“Well, a couple of days before Annalise went missing—”

“What day was that?” Joe asks.

“Um. The second, I guess.”

“You sure?”

She nods. “Yes. I went for a run after work.”

“What time?”

“Just before dark. My mom told me not to go because it was getting late. But I said I’d hurry. I try to run four times a week. Well, I ran my usual route from my house to the dry goods store and back. It’s about three and a half miles.”

“Where’s your house?” Joe asks.

She tilts her chin. “If you turn right out of the parking lot, opposite direction of Annalise’s, go about three quarters of a mile and turn right again on Midline Road, that’s where I live.”

“Okay. You’re running. When did it actually get dark? How far into your run?”

“By the time I got to the store and turned around, it was getting pretty dark.”

“How dark?” I ask.