CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mackenzie was relieved when Timbrook selected a bar that was not as trendy or pretentious as the Cavalier had been. The bar she selected was more of a dive; only four beers on tap, two of which had the word Lite in their titles. There was an honest to God jukebox in the back of the place, playing something by Dire Straits as they walked in. They took a table tucked away in a corner, both ordering beers as a thin, tired-looking waitress came by.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” Timbrook said. “I feel like it’s right there in front of my face and I can’t see it.”
“Apparently, I don’t see it, either,” Mackenzie said. “So you’re not alone.”
“I mean, it’s dealing with rock climbers. You’d think that would narrow the search down enough for this to be easy.”
“Let’s start
