The bouncer’s gaze flicked between her and the license several times, and his frown deepened.

Cara sighed as she dug out her wallet. “That really is my authentic, legal license. See? The same birthdate as my student ID.”

“Why are you here?” the bouncer asked in a warning rumble.

“Uh…” She didn’t expect to be questioned about her motives before she even got inside the place. What kind of dive bar was this? “To have a few drinks, maybe dance a little. Do, you know, bar things.”

“Bar things,” he repeated expressionlessly, and she nodded too quickly.

“Bar things.”

His sigh was deep enough to make his enormous shoulders sag for a moment, and she was pretty sure she was about to be sent away. To her surprise, he handed back her IDs and motioned toward the door. “Don’t blow anything up.”

“I’ll do my best.” She would’ve made a comment about how that was a strange thing to say, except that a skip Molly was chasing had blown a hole in the bathroom wall just a few weeks ago. Besides, she was just glad the bouncer hadn’t searched her and found her Taser.

Slipping inside before he could change his mind, she looked around, getting her bearings. The bar wasn’t as intimidating as she’d expected. It was smaller than the building it was in would’ve suggested, with a fairly good-sized crowd. Loud old-school rock pounded through the space, and the usual beery, sweaty bar smell filled her nose. She’d half-expected the music to screech to a stop when she entered as everyone turned to stare, but no one even seemed to notice her entrance.

She took a few deep breaths before moving toward the bar. After the whole motel-room incident, she’d planned better this time. This was simply a reconnaissance mission. Even if she spotted Abbott, she wouldn’t try to make contact. The most she’d do was follow him to his car and get his plate number.

The bartender, a redhead who resembled Jane a little too much for comfort, gave her a suspicious look but handed over the beer Cara ordered without any fuss. Clutching the cold bottle a little too tightly, she wove her way through the throng toward a shadowed booth in the back. From there, she’d be able to watch the crowd while staying somewhat hidden.

Preoccupied with not running into anyone while she scanned faces for one that matched Geoffrey Abbott’s mugshot, she was right in front of the booth before she realized that it was already occupied.

“Oh! Sorry. I thought this was empty.” Even as she apologized and started to turn away, she recognized the man sitting in the corner of the booth where the shadows were the deepest, and her head snapped back around. Her first thought was that the gloom was playing tricks on her eyes, because there was no way that was Henry Kavenski. It had to be her mind messing with her.

As much as she blinked, though, the face in front of her did not change. It was indeed her first attempted skip. She continued to stare, unable to process the fact that, now that she’d given up on bringing him in, Henry Kavenski just happened to pop up right in front of her. He looked back at her, expressionless except for the slight tightening of his lips.