She frowns like a petulant teenager, then plops down hard. “This is a bunch of shit.”

“I need you to tell me everything that happened Saturday night. Don’t leave anything out.”

Sarcasm laces her voice as she recaps a night of drinking, dancing and flirting. “We ordered a pizza and pitcher of beer and talked.” She sucks hard on the cigarette and I notice her hand shaking. “After that we played some eight ball and talked to some people we know. A few guys hit on us. I wanted to get laid, but they were a bunch of fuckin’ losers.”

“What do you mean ‘losers’?” I picture a group of hard-drinking, drug-dealing types looking for trouble.

She looks at me as if I’m dense. “Farmers. A bunch of go-nowhere, I’m-going-to-live-in-bum-fuck-the-rest-of-my-life good ole boys. I could practically smell the pig shit on their boots.”

“Then what happened?”

“I left.”

“I need the names of everyone you and Amanda talked to.”

Sighing, she recites several names.

I pull out my notebook and jot them down. “What time did you leave?”

“I told you. Eleven-thirty or twelve.” Her smile is hard-edged. “What are you trying to do? Trip me up?”

“The only time people trip up is when they’re lying. Are you lying about something, Connie?”

“I don’t have any reason to lie.”

“Then stop being an asshole and answer my questions.”

She rolls her eyes. “For an Amish chick you sure can cuss.”

Under different circumstances I might have laughed, but I don’t like this young woman. I’m cold and tired and desperately want something, anything that will put me on the trail of the killer. “Was Amanda still at the bar when you left?”

“I looked for her to tell her I was leaving, but couldn’t find her. I figured she was in the shitter or talking to someone outside. The pizza didn’t agree with me so I went home early.”

“Did you see her with anyone before you left?”

“Last time I saw her she was at the pool table, playing with a chick and two guys.”

“They on the list?”

“Yup.” She rattles off three names.

I circle them with fingers stiff from the cold. “Is there anything else you can tell me that might be important?”

She shakes her head. “It was just a regular, boring night, like always.” Taking a drag off the cigarette, she flicks it onto the step and crushes it beneath her shoe. “How did she die?”

Ignoring the question, I shove the notebook into my jacket pocket and give Connie Spencer a hard look. “Don’t leave town.”

“Why? I told you everything I know.” For the first time, she looks upset. I don’t like her and she knows it. She rises as I turn toward the door. “I’m not a suspect, am I?” she calls out to my back.

I slam the door without answering.

Snow greets me when I walk out of the diner. The sky is dark and low, a parallel to my mood. I know better than to let Spencer’s lack of concern annoy me, but my temper is pumping as I head toward the Explorer. I don’t think she’s involved, but I want to wipe that sneer off her face.