The Eagle is a bar and grill a few minutes' drive away, and at this time of night it's 90 minutes or so from closing. It's one of three restaurants within the radius Zandra drew in her mind, but it's the only one that matches the rest of her considerations. Close, but not too close. Frequented by the business class, but not exclusive. The best Friday Fish around.

She instructs Vince to park in the rear of the Eagle within a few feet of a Dumpster illuminated by a security light.

"What's the plan?" Jo says. The pistol is still lodged into her waistband. Zandra sees now that there's actually a holster inside the waistband.

Makes sense. It'd be uncomfortable otherwise.

"We wait and we watch," Zandra says.

"You don't want us to go inside? Ask around?" Vince says.

Zandra shakes her head as she focuses on the Dumpster. "We have to avoid anyone connected to Gene. We need to talk to someone who will give it to us straight."

"Which is?"

"The workers who take out the trash," Zandra says. "They're in the trenches, they know who comes and goes, and they don't give two shits about the management or Gene or anyone else. They're there to make rent. They'll talk. They're ignored every other day of the week."

Never discount the disgruntled.

It's suspicious, though, for three people in a muddy Jeep to leer at a Dumpster on an evening outside a bar. Zandra suggests they reposition across the street within view of the Eagle after a drunk teeters and pukes down the side of the Jeep.

Welcome to Wisconsin.

Vince guides the Jeep across the street, where they look more like three people waiting for a friend rather than a crew of political operatives staking out the Eagle. Jo flips the radio on to relax the mood.

Classic rock. Again.

Zandra never got into music enough to have a favorite genre, but she knows enough about the local radio stations to loathe classic rock. The "classic" period apparently only applies to six years and seven bands.

Back before Sneak Peek was a tangle of cinder, Zandra would play ambient "New Age" music, usually in the "space" sub-genre. That meant five notes slowly dragged across six hours. It kept the air full, though, and it didn't distract her. It did its job well enough that Zandra can't even remember what the music sounded like. The notes clung to Sneak Peek like paint.

"There," Zandra says finally. She points at a young woman hauling a black trash bag half her size toward the Dumpster. Even from across the street, Zandra can hear the sound of bottles inside the bag.

Heavy night.

"On it," Vince says and opens his driver side door.

"No. You two stay here," Zandra says and leaves the Jeep, but not before grabbing a print out of Julia's mug. She hobbles toward the Eagle, relieved to see the young woman pauses for a cigarette after disposing of the bottles. Buys her more time on her bad ankle.

"Back off, asshole," the young woman says as Zandra approaches.

No hesitation in the delivery. Spoken with a strong breath the whole way through, a hint above socially acceptable volumes. She's confident when she speaks that way. I bet she says that a lot.

"Not here to hurt you," Zandra says between labored breaths. The slow sprint to the Dumpster took the wind out of her. "Need to talk to you."

The young woman looks to be in her 20s. The front halves of her all-black T-shirt and pants are covered in specks of grease, soap and whatever else managed to hitch a ride from the bar.

She's too rough around the edges to be a college kid from UW-Stevens Point. They're softer, more easygoing. This one's seen life for what it is. Look at the way she straightened up when I came up on her, ready to defend herself. Working at a bar does that to a woman in her 20s.

That's good. Very good.

"I still got exams to study for tonight, I don't feel like helping anyone," the woman says.

OK, so I was wrong about the college part.

"Are you planning on sleeping tonight?" Zandra says and leans against the side of the Eagle. It's late as it is.

"How about you leave me alone," the woman says and cracks open a Red Bull. She sips it between puffs.

"I just need a quick favor. Think you can do that?" Zandra says. She holds up the picture of Julia before the woman can answer the request. "You seen this person around?"

The woman squints and takes a closer look in the chilled blue of the security light. She looks from the picture to Zandra and back again.

She recognizes her. It's in the eyes. They don't linger on the picture. The longer you look, the more it's taking to recall the memory, if there is one at all.

"You the cops?" the woman says.

Would she know I'm not if I said yes?

"I'm not the cops," Zandra says.

"Then why are you showing me this?"

Wasn't expecting this to be so hard.

"She's my niece," Zandra says. She lets her voice crack just a bit to cover the lie. "She went missing on a Friday night. I think she went here before she disappeared."

That lightens the woman up. She places the cigarette over her chest and says, "Oh, no, I'm so sorry. Are you worried?"

"Very," Zandra says.

A door opens and a troll of a man sticks his thick head through. He says, "Doesn't take this long to bring the trash out, Liv."

Zandra immediately looks at her shoes. The higher up someone is anywhere in Plover or Stevens Point, the more likely there's a connection back to Gene.

"Just a minute," the young woman, apparently named Liv, says to the man.

The man turns to go back inside, but does a double take with Zandra instead. "Do I know you?"

Zandra shakes her head.

Don't say anything about the person I'm looking for, Liv. Not a peep.

Liv doesn't get the memo. She tips her Red Bull toward Zandra and starts to say something. She doesn't get two words out before she's interrupted.

"Best you leave my employees alone. They jerk around enough as it is," the man says to Zandra. Then, before heading back inside, he says to Liv, "Hurry it up. We've got people waiting."

An opportunity.

"Your boss sounds like an ass," Zandra says once she's alone again with Liv.

Liv flicks the cigarette to the ground and swallows the last of the Red Bull. "You have no idea."

I just might.

"There's always going to be an asshole wherever you work, and it'll usually be the person you report in to. Here's the thing, though. They always get what's coming to them. It'll either be at home or at work or somewhere. All truth is self-revealing, and the universe bends toward justice. It doesn't matter who you are. These are laws of nature we're talking about here," Zandra says.

Build a little trust, a little camaraderie, see where it can get me.

"It bends toward justice? Lady, you haven't lived enough, or you haven't read enough about history, or you haven't had enough of something," Liv says. "People get away with shit. All. The. Time."

Zandra raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Really," Liv says. She chucks the empty Red Bull can into the Dumpster.

Cash in.

"You want to know what I think happened to this person?" Zandra says and taps the picture of Julia. "I think her boss had her killed. And I think that same boss killed my husband. There are at least a dozen more, too. This boss guy, he's been literally getting away with murder. Do you know what I'm going to do to him?"

Liv seems nervous. She starts backing up toward the door to the Eagle. "Don't hurt me."

But the adrenaline is already pumping too quickly for Zandra to think. She reverts to the same disassociated, primitive state she fell into backstage with Dvorak. Her better sense loses control. Cashing in on a mark's trust usually takes on a gentler disposition. Not this time.

Can't help myself.

"I'm going to kill him. That's what I'm going to do," Zandra says. She comes in close to reach her arm across Liv's body and brace the door shut. "I've killed before. I can do it again. I am the universe bending toward justice."

"Lady, please...," Liv says, her voice trailing off.

Shut up and listen. This is bigger than you.

Zandra holds Julia's picture an inch from Liv's nose and says, "You recognized her. Tell me what you saw."

"Please, don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you," Zandra says.

Liv swallows. She says, "She sat at a high-top table and talked with a guy. They ordered dinner and drinks."

She could be making it up to get away from me. Press harder.

"What did he look like?" Zandra says.

"He had two scars on his face. One across his forehead and one down the side of his face," Liv says.

"What did they eat?"

"What?"

"They ordered food, didn't they?"

"Yes."

"What did they order?" Zandra says.

Chopping up the timeline can catch dishonesty nine times out of 10. Ask for the sequence of events in reverse or out of order. Liars take extra time or repeat the question. The truthful will give it to you right away and consistently. Even under duress, it works.

"They both had Friday fish," Liv says.

"What did they drink?" Zandra says.

"Water, pop, I don't know," Liv says.

Gotcha.

"I thought you said they had drinks from the bar," Zandra says.

"They did."

"Cocktails or beer?"

"Cocktails, I think."

"And water and pop, too, right?"

Keep the questions coming fast.

"Yeah. Like on the side. Most people don't just drink cocktails," Liv says.

"And what did they have to eat?" Zandra says.

"Steak special."

"Two scars or one on the woman's face?" Zandra says.

"Two," Liv says.

Wrong and wrong. But also right. Liv's done being truthful. Her first responses were right in line. She closed her eyes on the second responses. She just wants this to be done. I've got enough.

"Alright then, alright," Zandra says and backs off. "I'm done."

Liv snaps away from the door. "Telling the cops inside about you."

"The hell you are," Zandra says.

"What, you going to kill me, too?" Liv says.

Zandra grins. "No, child, I'm not going to hurt you. But I will tell the cops about the money you're skimming off the top."

Liv looks like her skeleton just fell out of her body. Quietly, she says, "What are you talking about?"

Zandra opens up her palm to reveal a wad of cash and says, "There's a bit much here for an employee who is, as your boss said, always jerking around."

Indeed, the bills in Zandra's hands add up to quite a bit.

Liv needs deeper pockets. Pulled the money out while she was distracted with my questioning. Gotta keep an eye on both hands, child.

"I made those tips fair and square," Liv says.

Zandra pockets the cash. "Like hell you did."

"How do you know?"

Zandra looks over her shoulder as she hobbles away. "Because, child, I'm a psychic."