By the time Thomas climbs up the steps to the bar he is breathing heavily and sweating. Peeking through the window he sees Kevin, the young man who has taken over the day-to-day duties of running the bar, wiping down the scarred mahogany counter. He tries the door handle but it doesn’t open. Kevin keeps the door locked before opening time to ensure that no one wanders in with hopes of getting an early-morning cocktail.

He raps on the door but Kevin doesn’t even look up. Thomas can hear the faint trill of the phone and bangs harder, the glass shivering with each strike. He must be listening to music, he thinks. That’s why Kevin doesn’t hear the bar phone ring, why he can’t hear him knocking. He waves his hands in front of the window and Kevin finally glances up. Kevin takes his time unlocking the door and when he does Thomas reaches up and rips the earbuds from his ears.

Kevin looks down at him, startled. “Jesus, you scared me. What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Jordyn,” Thomas says, his voice cracking. “Is Jordyn here?”

“She’s in the back,” Kevin says, hitching a thumb toward the kitchen. “Why?”

“Jordyn,” Thomas calls, brushing past Kevin. “Get out here.”

“Jeez, what?” Jordyn rounds the corner in exasperation and halts at the sight of her grandfather’s angry face. She’s dressed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, flip-flops and a T-shirt as if she’s just rolled out of bed. “What did I do now?”

“Why don’t you tell me,” Thomas says, hands on hips.

Jordyn looks him directly in the eye and lifts and drops her shoulders and as if daring him to contradict her says, “I have no idea.”

Thomas wants to shake the defiance from her face. He wishes that Tess were here. She’d know what to do and say. She would go to their granddaughter, pull her into a hug and Jordyn would apologize for making them worry. But Tess isn’t here and Kevin has returned to scrubbing the bar, earbuds placed firmly back in place. It’s just the two of them.

“The police are looking for you,” Thomas says. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Cora’s house?”

“The police?” Jordyn asks, the confidence draining from her voice.

“Yes, the police. They’re on their way over here right now. What’s going on, Jordyn?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Jordyn exclaims, looking panicked, eyes brimming with tears. Thomas almost believes her.

There’s a tap on the door and both Thomas and Jordyn look over to find Officer Bree Wilson looking in at them. Curious, Kevin pulls his earbuds away from his ears. A freckle-faced redhead, Bree comes into the bar every so often with a booming laugh and a fondness for Bushmills Irish Buck. Thomas beckons her in and the door squeaks open as she enters.