Agent 9

Chapter 6: Hawk Creek

The place is rustic but lively. A large neon sign casts light on the other small buildings in the area. The entire town has an unmistakable country feel. I've never really been to a small town. This place - Hawk Creek - It's fascinating. I wish I could be here under different circumstances.

I've decided to start my search for Archer Burns at the first bar I could find in this small town. I don't know why, but I had a feeling about him being holed up in a place like this. Around me I spy only one car - A sleek silver pick up truck. However, the place is alive with people. So I get the hint that most of these people walked.

I step out of my car and enter the bar. I'm not old enough to drink legally. But one flash of my fake ID will make everything okay. It's not like I'm going to order a drink anyway.

Inside, people are bustling around, drinking, dancing, some are just sitting in booths away from everyone else. Country music is playing loudly as I walk up to the bar and wave down the bartender.

A chubby, young-looking man with a black, curly up-do, nods in my direction and strolls over.

"What can I get you?" He asks with a smile that would have me wooed if not for my dedication to Ephriam.

"I'm looking for someone." I pull out my phone and bring up a picture of Archer Burns from my suit cam. I turn the phone to him and he examines it closely.

"Yeah...I know that guy." He takes out a glass and polishes it with a rag. Then he wipes his hands on his apron and pulls out his phone. "I took a selfie earlier and he was in the background." He turns the phone to me.

I lean in and glare at the picture. Most of it is taken up by the bartender's face.

"Do you like my dimples?" He asks. I notice them in the picture. They create deep craters in his large cheeks. I just mumble an "Mhmm" which seems to be good enough for him. I'm too busy trying to find Archer Burns.

"Where is he?" I ask after I fail to spy Archer Burns in the photograph.

"He's right there," The bartender zooms in on the background and points out a man that looks about as much like Archer Burns as I do. I roll my eyes.

"Thanks," I mutter and turn away.

"Wait!" The bartender calls. I turn. "I'm off in a few minutes, care to dance?" I've already made up my mind to refuse and one look at the intoxicated people embarrassing themselves on the dance floor is enough to seal the deal a thousand times over.

"No," I answer simply.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment and disappears into the back room.

"I know who you're lookin' for." A man says with his back to me. The country twang stands out in his voice. I turn in his direction. He's sitting on a barstool with a glass of ice water dripping condensation. He takes a sip and turns around to face me.

My jaw drops.

It's those blue eyes. Those stunning eyes that help me recognize him. They're the only thing that remain the same. His silver hair is combed back in a gentlemanly style. He's wearing a full-on tux. His face is free of the long stubble beard.