After five minutes, she was able to inch close enough to catch the attention of a bartender. He was tan and muscled and bare-chested, with a pierced nipple. The bolo tie around his neck was fastened with a chunky turquoise and silver clasp.

“Howdy.” He tipped his straw Stetson. “Whatcha drinking tonight? Can I get you started with our drink special? A Mango Tango?”

“God no,” she said, shuddering. “Just a vodka tonic. Double lime, please.”

While he turned to fix her drink, Drue scanned the length of the bar. A similarly dressed bartender worked the other end. She had long blond braids laced with feathers and beads, and wore a midriff-tied cowboy shirt with jean shorts cut high and tight, exposing an impressive amount of tanned butt cheeks.

Customers had seemingly self-segregated, with the men on the far end, ogling the blonde, and a large number of women clustered at what she’d already started thinking of as the Roy Rogers end of the bar. If Roy had a pierced nipple and a tattoo of a coiled rattlesnake on his right bicep.

She was surprised at how racially diverse the crowd was. Was country music that universally appealing? Drue wasn’t sure.

The bartender was back with her drink. She thanked him and leaned across the bar. “Hey, do you happen to know a woman named Neesa? I think she comes here a lot? Likes Jägerbombs?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But I just started here this week. Want me to go ask Coco?” He pointed down the bar at the blonde.

She gave him her most dazzling smile. “That’d be awesome.”

A moment later, he was back. “That’s her,” he said, nodding in the direction of a black woman who’d positioned herself on a bar stool at the corner of the bar that angled back toward the bathrooms.

Drue had a five-dollar bill ready, and she pushed it across the bar top toward him.

She sipped her drink and surreptitiously watched the woman, whom she’d never have recognized from the photo Jorge had shown her.

Instead of the elaborate crown of braids and beaded extensions the other Neesa had worn, this one had a chin-length platinum blond pageboy. She wore a low-cut yellow tank top and shoulder-length gold hoop earrings. She was chatting with another woman, but her eyes seemed to constantly scan the crowd. When her head swung in Drue’s direction, Drue quickly turned away, leaving her back toward the woman. A moment later, Neesa was engrossed in conversation with a tall Hispanic-looking man, fluttering dramatic false eyelashes and gesturing with long acrylic nails painted neon pink.

The man motioned for the bartender, who brought a new round of drinks. Soon his arm was draped across Neesa’s shoulder, his hand resting lightly atop her breast.