She continued down the hall and entered the bullpen. Rainey found Detective Robertson at her desk.

"Come on, Sheila. I'm taking you to lunch."

On the way to the car, Rainey called Feme Sole, hoping to reach one of the co-owners, Phyllis Rowan. Rainey found the name of the bar appropriate for a lesbian club in the middle of judicial central. In the past, women had few individual rights of their own. A woman was designated feme sole in order to conduct business and own property independent of a man, a right that had to be bestowed upon her by the state. The name of the bar was a reminder of just how hard women had to fight for independence. The bar was located down the block from the Detention Center, on Pettigrew Street.

On the third ring the husky female voice of a long-time smoker said, "Feme Sole."

"Hi, I was wondering if Phyllis was around?"

Rainey heard the distinct intake of a drag on a cigarette and then the exhale, before the voice said, "Yeah, this is Phyllis. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Agent Bell with the FBI. I believe Detective Robertson has been in contact with you. I know we're set up to come to the bar later this afternoon, but the detective and I would like to come earlier, if that's okay with you? We were going to grab a quick lunch first."

The voice brightened on the other end. "We serve lunch, if you want to come on now. Tell me what you want and I'll get it going."

Rainey imagined a cheeseburger dripping with grease and deep-fried fries, but Katie would have a fit if she knew Rainey ate that much fat. Rainey had to admit she was healthier since Katie made it her mission in life to feed her, but healthier meant more food and extra miles to run. Katie distracted her from running too many mornings and Rainey worried about the pounds that would slow her down. With that in mind she said, "How about a chef salad? Do you have that?"

"One fresh chef salad coming up. Sweet tea?"

"Sweet tea would be fantastic." Rainey looked at Sheila, who nodded that was fine with her. "Make that two of everything. See you in a few minutes."

Rainey was quiet on the way to the bar and Sheila must have sensed it was best to leave her alone. When they exited the car, in the big dusty parking lot next to Feme Sole, Rainey turned to Sheila.

"When we go in there tomorrow night, I don't want you near me. Find a spot today, where you can see the whole dance floor. I'll ask the owner to reserve the table. I want to know where to look for you, if I need you."

"I gotcha' back, girl. Don't you worry about that."

Rainey examined the bar's typical tobacco warehouse architecture, prevalent in the old "Big Tobacco" district. Durham once held the largest tobacco company in the world, American Tobacco, formed when the five biggest rivals in the industry became one company in the late eighteen hundreds. The city began extensive urban renewal back in the nineties. Now the old abandoned warehouses and factory buildings, with their elaborate red brickwork, were commercial and residential s.p.a.ces. A bar in this district probably did very well. At least, the real estate was worth a bundle.

Large windows occupied most of the front of Feme Sole. The old warehouse was two stories tall, with huge six-paned black iron windows equally s.p.a.ced down the exterior walls. The windows toward the back of the building were bricked over on the bottom floor, but the top windows were still paned with the original swirling antique gla.s.s. A finely tailored, black canopy lined the sidewalk in front of the entrance. Above the second floor windows, hung a giant LED screen almost the length of the facade. At the moment the sign spelled out "Feme Sole" in cursive purple letters. It certainly looked cla.s.sier than most of the dive bars Rainey had experienced during investigations.

Rainey walked beyond the entrance, to the adjoining alley. Sheila was by her side. A small deck area sat at the back of the building. Rainey could just see the edge of it. She walked to the back. The deck contained chairs and tables, with ashtrays everywhere. A sign on a small door leading back into the bar read, "Extinguish all smoking materials before re-entering." The deck was obviously the smoking area for the bar. The old tobacco barons would be surprised to see that even on Tobacco Road you could no longer smoke inside. Rainey turned around and studied the alley once more.

"What are you thinking?" Sheila peered down the pa.s.sage. "Are you looking for a good place to park the van?"

"No, actually, I was thinking Katie's ancestors probably owned the ground we're standing on, or at least some of it. The Meyers clan made its fortune in tobacco."

"s.h.i.t, my people probably worked the fields," Sheila joked.

"And mine probably cleaned the house." Rainey was talking about her father's family. She never considered herself part of her mother's world, on the other side of the tracks.

Sheila slapped her hip, where her gun was holstered. "Look who's got the gun, now."

Rainey slapped a high five with Sheila, saying, "We've come a long way, baby."

"Speaking of coming a long way..." Sheila placed her hand gently on Rainey's arm. "Your new life has been good for you. I saw it, when you walked in the other day. You were sparkling."

Rainey chuckled. "Sparkling? Come on, I don't sparkle. I don't even twinkle."

"Say what you want, that woman rocks your world."

A smiling Rainey nodded in agreement. "She does that. She can also make me crazy."

"That's love, honey. My husband is lucky to be alive. I remind him often that I do carry a gun, but like Billie sang it..." Sheila broke into song, "My man, I love him, so."

Rainey laughed for a moment, and then turned serious. "How does he handle your job?"

"He knew I was a cop from day one. I met him when I pulled him over for no taillights."

"Katie knew what I did for a living. It doesn't mean she likes it."

Sheila stopped just outside the entrance. "Rainey, I'm going to give you one piece of advice. It worked for me. You need to put what you do in perspective for Katie. Remind her that soldiers leave their families every day, firefighters risk their lives, scientists study deadly diseases... the list goes on. Is my family's happiness more important than the families of those men and women? What about the woman killed on the highway, coming home from her second job with groceries for her six kids? Would my death in the line of duty somehow be more tragic? That woman was doing her duty, too. It's all in the point of view."

"Sheila, you are a wise woman."

Rainey opened the door and the two women walked into a large room, brightly lit by the sun streaming through the many windows. Most bars were dark, smelling of old beer and stale cigarettes, not Feme Sole. The room was big and airy. The only aroma came from the food on the tables in front of the patrons. The interior walls were exposed red brick like the exterior. On both the left and right walls were wrought iron black staircases leading to a balcony that looked over the room and presumably into the dance area beyond. Gigantic, heavy wooden doors, old and darkly stained, dominated the wall directly ahead of Rainey. To the left of those doors stood a bar made of wood, matching the doors. To the right, overstuffed couches and chairs were grouped together in conversation pits.

They made their way to the bar, through rectangular tables filled with women, ranging from construction worker to hot lawyer. Some were alone, eyes focused on computers or e-readers. A large table group laughed over baskets of sandwiches and chips. A few obvious couples sat lost in their own conversations. This wasn't Rainey's first experience in a lesbian bar, but this time her perception was altered. She had convinced herself her own s.e.xuality would not matter, but Rainey felt all the eyes on her and knew Katie had been right. There wasn't a single lesbian in the bar that didn't recognize her, if not as the famous FBI agent, as one of them.

Rainey ignored the stares and walked up to a large shouldered woman with very short gray hair. The woman had to be Phyllis. She looked like someone who would sound like the voice on the phone, with deep wrinkles around her lips from years of drawing in the nicotine-enhanced smoke. Phyllis Rowan looked like she'd been around the block a time or two. She stood behind the bar, drying gla.s.ses. From what Rainey could see, she was five seven or eight, and two hundred and fifty pounds. Phyllis was a big woman.

Rainey stepped up to the bar and took a seat on a tall wooden stool. Sheila remained standing beside her. Phyllis sauntered over, throwing the towel across her shoulder. She was dressed in a dark blue, crisply ironed, b.u.t.ton up shirt. The words "Feme Sole" were embroidered over the pocket, in neon purple. She smiled and turned her head a little to one side, peering at Rainey curiously.

"Agent Rainey Bell in my bar. I am honored."

Rainey stuck out her hand to receive Phyllis' thick grip. "You must be Phyllis."

The large woman grinned. "Yes, ma'am, that's me."

Sheila extended her hand for a paw shake from Phyllis, saying, "Detective Robertson. Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Rowan."

"It's Phyllis and it's nice to meet you, as well." Phyllis looked over the other patrons. "Let's go in the other room so we can talk without the gawkers." She pointed at the big doors. "I'll go through the kitchen and pick up your salads. Meet ya' on the other side."

Rainey and Sheila followed Phyllis' instructions, entering the vast hall located behind the doors. Only the support beams, brick pillars, and black steel balconies remained of the former tobacco warehouse. As Rainey suspected, the balconies extended along both walls over the dance floor. A stage was set up at the far end of the room. Tables sat under the balconies near the windows. Heavy black curtains were pulled back to allow the sun into the room. Two long bars were centered on each side of the s.p.a.ce where the windows were bricked in.

Phyllis appeared carrying the salads and tea. She stopped at a small table set with silverware and a basket of crackers. Phyllis motioned to the waiting women. "Come on over here."

Rainey pulled out a heavy wooden chair and sat down across from Phyllis. Sheila sat next to her. Rainey took a big drink of the cold iced tea. "Oh, thank you. I needed that," Rainey said, an attempt at putting Phyllis at ease.

Phyllis smiled. "Go on, eat your lunch. I can talk while y'all eat. I pretty much know what you're going to ask."

Rainey unfolded her silverware from the white cotton napkin, while pushing Phyllis in the right direction. "I know you've already talked to the police, but could you tell me what you know about the victims?"

Phyllis avoided the apparent painful topic, by saying, "I didn't ask you what dressing you wanted so I brought ranch out, but I can get you something else."

"Ranch is just fine," Sheila said. "Thank you."

Rainey had not waited and was already drenching the mound of sliced ham, turkey, eggs, cheese, and bright red tomato wedges nested in deep green lettuce. If it tasted as good as it looked Rainey was going to be impressed. She was starving and hoped the food improved her mood.

She prodded Phyllis again. "I realize how difficult it can be to talk about people you obviously cared about, but it will be helpful to the investigation to know these women, who they really were. Not Cookie Kutter's version of things."

Phyllis leaned back, letting out a string of chuckles. "What you said to her was priceless. I record the news so I can catch up when I'm home. I played that sound bite over and over. Good one!"

Sheila chimed in, "I think the hair bleach has affected Cookie's brain. She wasn't such an a.s.s when she was still a brunette."

After a good laugh from the three women, Phyllis started spouting information. "I knew Lisa Jones very well. She started coming to my old bar when she was still wet behind the ears. Lord, in her younger days she was a lesbian on a mission, h.e.l.l bent on sleeping with as many women as she possibly could." Phyllis chuckled at her memory. "I watched her grow into a responsible young woman over the years, but she still had that wild streak. It got her in trouble sometimes."

Rainey wiped her mouth with her napkin. "How so?"

Phyllis chuckled more heartily. "Let's just say, her girlfriends overlapped on occasion. I loved her, but she ran amok when the girls started taking their clothes off in front of her and they did, often. She was one of those rare breeds. She could charm the clothes off a woman without even intending to."

"Did she leave a trail of broken hearts?" Sheila asked.

Phyllis smiled, again. "Not broken hearts per se, but changed by the experience. That was the thing about her. She could p.i.s.s them off, but she always left them smiling in the end. My partner in the bar, Dara Thomas, had a taste of that. She's not here right now, but I can give you her number."

Rainey drained her tea. Phyllis rose to get a pitcher by the kitchen door. She continued to talk, returning with the tea and filling their gla.s.ses.

"Now, this other girl, Kim McNatt, I don't know much about her. I've seen her in here. Never made any trouble. I would remember her if she had. In this business you learn to recognize the bad apples."

Rainey took a break from eating to ask, "What would it take to get one of these women to go with a complete stranger, no struggle, freely follow him to his car?"

Phyllis rubbed her gray hair into short spikes, sticking out in all directions. "I don't know about Kim, but Lisa was a nurse. She would have helped anyone in trouble. That's just the kind of person she was."

Rainey switched from the victims to the UNSUB. "What can you tell us about the men that come in here?"

"Well now, you got your gay boyfriends who like to party with the ladies sometimes. Then there are the straight couples that join their friends. Dara puts on a h.e.l.l of a light show. This place has every lighting gadget she could squeeze in here. That's what she does for a day job. She runs a lighting equipment rental shop. Got a nice little business. It made her enough money to help me buy this place."

Rainey was interested in the men that frequented the establishment, not how the two women financed their dream bar. She redirected Phyllis. "Do you get many straight men alone?"

Phyllis darkened. "No, we discourage their patronage, if you get my drift. This is a lesbian bar. The women here need to feel safe. If a guy comes in here hitting on women, I know about it. If it becomes a problem, well then, I have a right to refuse service."

Sheila finished eating and slid her half-eaten salad away. "Whew! That was a huge salad. Thank you, it was delicious."

Rainey wasn't finished with her plate, but she paused to ask, "What about bi-s.e.xual couples, trans men, other members of the gay community that may not fit the mold of typical lesbian?" Rainey saw Phyllis' eyebrows shoot up. "Phyllis, I'm not interested in the politics of who belongs where. I'm looking for a killer that doesn't belong here. You've seen him, maybe even talked to him."

Phyllis' body language registered she understood what Rainey was driving at. "The only thing that sticks out in my mind was a bi couple about six weeks ago. They got plastered and the guy started suggesting things to some of the girls that didn't go over very well with the alpha crowd."

So Phyllis was a student of human nature. Rainey believed that to be an a.s.set. She stopped eating and leaned forward. "The couple - who was in charge, the man or the woman?"

"Oh honey, that girl was just along for the ride. She didn't want to be here. You could tell he made her come. Don't get me wrong. I'm not the s.e.x police. Plenty of consenting adults, happy couples for the most part, party here with us. What goes on outside this bar is none of my concern."

Rainey made eye contact with Sheila, verifying that the detective knew the man's behavior didn't fit the profile. Their UNSUB would seek to please his mate, not force her to partic.i.p.ate in something against her will.

"Phyllis, let's narrow the scope. Were you here the night Lisa Jones went missing?"

"I'm here every night except Monday and Tuesday. Those are slow nights."

"Could I ask you to close your eyes?" Rainey asked, softening her voice. Phyllis complied. "Now, I want you to think back to the very last time you saw Lisa. Was it that night?"

Phyllis nodded, answering, "Yes. I talked to her, before she went home."

Sheila pulled a pad and pen from her purse and began to take notes. She remained silent, letting Rainey probe Phyllis' mind.

"Okay," Rainey began, "I want you to focus on that conversation. Can you see her?"

Phyllis only nodded this time.

"Focus on Lisa. What is she wearing?"

"It was warm out. She had on a tank top tucked into ratty jeans. She was happy. She just got a raise at work."

"Do you remember what time you talked to her?"

"I teased her about going home before midnight. I told the police I thought it was around 11:45."

Sheila acknowledged she had that information, by nodding to Rainey.

"Let's go back a few minutes before you see Lisa. What are you doing? Where are you in the bar?"

Phyllis opened her eyes and pointed toward the long bar on the left side of the room. "I was leaning over there, just watching for a minute."

Rainey stood up. "Let's go stand by the bar."

Phyllis and Sheila followed Rainey across the room. Sheila sat on a stool, pad in hand, while Rainey stood near the dance floor.

Rainey asked Phyllis, "Could you stand exactly where you were that night?"

Phyllis moved to the end of the bar, leaning on it with her left elbow, one leg crossed over the other at the ankles.

"Now, close your eyes again. What song is playing?"

Phyllis smiled broadly, her eyes remaining closed. "It was 'Redneck Woman' time. We play it most nights when the crowd gets going. Everyone was singing and dancing with no one in particular. It's one of those rowdy bar songs women go crazy over."

"I want you to pick out one woman in the crowd, no one special, just really focus on that one person. Do you see her?"

"Yes, she's young, too young. I'm thinking about checking her ID again."

"What is she wearing?"

"She's dressed like a teenage boy, long shorts, Rugby shirt, ball cap."

Rainey had the woman focused. She was counting on Phyllis' skills of observation, honed from years behind a bar.

"Zoom out, Phyllis. Take in the whole room... Freeze that image in your mind... Now, scan that photo. The women are into the song. What are the men doing? Where are they?"

Phyllis moved her head around as she examined the picture in her mind. "There are just so many people. I see some of the regular guys by the bar. I've known all of them for years." She moved her head, indicating the southeast corner by the entrance. "A few guys are with the big birthday party in the back, most of them are singing. I can't see much for the bodies in front of me and I was watching that kid. I just don't see anyone that jumps out at me as not belonging."