In the end, Jane ended up taking the car to San Angelo, dropping off Lisbon at Rosalind's house with a promise to pick her up later that afternoon. He had a nice chat with Rosalind for a few minutes before Lisbon got fidgety and he deemed it prudent to excuse himself.
He found Maya Plaskett in a dive bar called Rusty's Tavern in the center of town, serving as a bartender.
Gone was the fresh-faced, if frightened young girl he remembered from four years ago. In her place was a woman with hair dyed a dark red, wearing a blowsy top and a wary expression. Heavy dark lines of eyeliner framed her eyes and she wore lipstick that was several shades too dark for her skin tone.
It was the middle of the day, so the bar wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty, either. Most of the patrons were settled in corner tables or were gathered around the pool table, however, so Jane felt fairly assured of having a relatively private conversation when he went straight to the bar.
"What'll you have?" Maya said without looking up from the glass she was drying.
"Sasparilla and soda," Jane told her, taking a seat on the barstool nearest the tap.
"What?" Maya did a double take.
He gave her a gentle smile. "Hello, Maya. Do you remember me?"
She gave him a wry smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'd hardly be likely to forget, given the circumstances under which we met. How are you, Mr. Jane?"
"I'm well. I can see the same can't be said for you, however."
She stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Well, look at you. You're obviously unhappy."
She looked away. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. You're miserable. Still grieving for your sister, suffering from survivor's guilt, wondering why she was the one chosen to die while you were spared. You're looking for something to drown the pain, or at least to dull it, but you won't turn to drugs because you secretly believe that's what got you into this mess in the first place. You try alcohol sometimes but you're afraid of going too far down that path because you're afraid of becoming like your mother, relying on a bottle to get you through the day. So instead you try to distract yourself with sex, engaging in a series of one night stands, but never getting attached, never letting anyone get close. You allow men to use you because deep down you believe you don't deserve to be treated any better." Jane shook his head. "You and your sister were good students. You should be in college somewhere, preferably far away from this place, but instead of setting the world on fire with new ideas, here you are, slinging drinks in a run down bar in the middle of the day."
She drew back. "Was there something you wanted?" she asked coldly.
"Yes. I want you to stop blaming yourself for what happened to your sister, and for what happened to you."
"That's what you came here to tell me?" she said disbelievingly.
"No. I came here to ask you how you met Sherriff Hardy."
Her expression grew even more guarded. "I don't want to talk about him," she said shortly.
"Not even if it could help avenge your sister's death?"
She looked at him. "What good would that do? She'll still be gone."
"Please, Maya. It could help us catch her killer. Prevent other people from being hurt by him."
She was quiet for a moment. "All right. Ask your questions," she said finally.
Jane repeated his earlier question. "How did you first meet Sheriff Hardy?"
She frowned. "I don't know. I've always known him. He's the sheriff, you know? Everybody knew him."
"When was the first time you remember meeting him?"
"I dunno. I'd known him since I was a kid. He was a friend of my brother's, so he used to come over to the house a lot."
Something prickled at the back of Jane's neck. "How did your brother know him?"
"Hardy caught him trying to buy cigarettes at the service station one time when he was still underage. But instead of busting him, he bought him a pack and they sat behind the station and smoked it together. They got to be pretty good friends after that."
Jane frowned. "When was that?"
Maya thought back. "I was about twelve when that happened, so Drake must have been seventeen."
"Did Drake tell you about it?"
She shook her head. "No. I remember it because my dad found out. He was furious. He threatened to have Hardy kicked off the police force. My dad is kind of scary when he's mad, you know? But Hardy, he was cool as a cucumber. He told my dad he didn't want Drake to be a smoking addict like him, so he'd bought him the pack and made him smoke the whole thing so he'd be sick and never want to touch a cigarette again. Dad ate it up. I heard Drake and Hardy laughing about it later. I think that was what sealed the deal, for Drake. He admired Hardy for putting one over on Dad."
"Your dad never found out the truth?"
"No. He was Hardy's biggest fan after that. He even helped him when he ran for sheriff the next year, after Tom Cassidy died in that freak accident."
"Did he and Drake spend a lot of time together?"
"A fair amount. Emma and I always thought it was kind of weird, because Hardy was a few years older than Drake, but Drake always had a hard time making friends his own age, and we figured Hardy must have felt sorry for him."
"Do you know anyone else he spent a lot of time with?"
She shrugged. "He got along with most everybody, as far as I know."
"Nobody stands out?"
"I guess he was pretty good buddies with the other guys on the police force. A lot of them have a poker game they play in every week at lunchtime. He was kind of the ringleader of that group."
"Every week? What day of the week was that?"
"Wednesday, I think. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Jane lied. "Now, what about you?"
She blinked. "What about me?"
"Hardy was convinced he was in love with you," Jane reminded her. "Did he ever seem to take any special notice of you? Before he kidnapped you, I mean?"
She shifted uncomfortably and didn't answer right away.
"I'll take that as a yes," Jane commented. "When did you first notice he had a special interest in you?"
She avoided his eyes. "Right around when Emma and I turned sixteen, I guess."
"No," Jane said slowly, watching her. "There was a specific event that you're remembering. Tell me what it is."
She looked back up at him and glared. Her expression was so Lisbon-ish he had to hide a smile. "Fine. It was our sixteenth birthday, okay?"
"What happened?"
"Emma and I were getting ready to go out to dinner with some friends. We were all dressed up, and everything. Emma had lent me a skirt of hers that I'd always liked. Ted was at the house. He and Drake were going out to play basketball or something. Emma was in the other room, arguing with Dad. He thought we should stay home and have a family celebration, but Mom had already said we could go. We were going to do a family thing the next day, anyway, so Emma couldn't see why he was making such a big deal about it. Anyway, Drake was upstairs and I was in the hall waiting for Emma when Ted came in."
"What did he say to you?"
"He just stopped and looked at me. Then he smiled and said 'Well, Miss Maya, you look pretty as a picture tonight. Before you know it, you'll be all grown up. Once that happens, you'd better watch out, because I'm going to whisk you away from here. You're gonna marry me one day. Just you wait.'" She let out a breath. "It was weird, you know? The way he was looking at me. After that, he always greeted me by saying something about me being his future wife or something. It creeped me out. But I didn't take him seriously. I figured it was his idea of a joke."
"Did you ever tell anyone about this?" Jane wanted to know.
"Just Emma. She thought it was strange, too, but she didn't think much of it. She just said, 'What do you expect from someone off-kilter enough that he wants to be friends with Drake?'"
"You never mentioned this to Drake?"
She shook her head. "No. I didn't see the point. Like I said, I didn't take it seriously, at first." She let out a bitter laugh. "Little did I know he wasn't kidding about whisking me away and trying to make me his wife."
Jane tried to compute this information against what he already knew. "Did Drake ever say anything about what the two of them did when they spent time together?"
She shrugged. "Not really. They played basketball sometimes, like I said. And video games, I think. But Emma and I never really paid that much attention to what Drake did."
"It was always you and Emma against the world, huh? Neither of you cared what was going on outside your little bubble, as long as you had each other."
"Pretty much," she admitted. "We were terrible brats about it. Poor Drake. No wonder he was lonely."
"And he never noticed his friend had an eye on his little sister?"
"I guess not."
"Drake never mentioned that he was friends with Hardy," Jane said, considering this.
"Well, they sort of stopped hanging out about a year before Emma was killed. So Ted didn't hang around as much after that."
That got Jane's attention. "Did they? Why was that?"
"Beats me. They had some sort of falling out, but I never knew what it was about."
"Interesting."
They were both silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.
"You know what was funny?" she said eventually.
"What's that?"
"I always wondered how he knew it was me, that night."
"What do you mean?" Jane said, roused from his own contemplations.
"Most people couldn't tell me and Emma apart," she explained. "Even Mom and Dad and Drake got us mixed up sometimes. And I was wearing Emma's clothes. But he knew it was me. It wasn't just that night, either. Every time I saw him, he always knew it was me."
"You have a freckle, just here," Jane said, touching his own neck to indicate the place he meant. "It's very faint. Most people probably don't notice it. Emma didn't have any freckles."
"Huh," she said, bemused. "You remember that, after all this time, after just seeing a few pictures of us?"
He shrugged. "That's why the CBI keeps me around."
"Guess you're earning your paycheck, then."
"I do what I can. I notice things, and I'm a good guesser. Sometimes that helps us catch criminals."
"Do you still work with Agent Lisbon?" she asked.
"Yes, I drove up here with her."
"Say hello to her for me," Maya said, sounding almost wistful. He remembered opening the door in that basement. Lisbon flashing her badge, and going to Maya, telling her it was going to be all right. Himself, standing uncertainly in the doorway, while Lisbon put her arms around the frightened young woman and told her she was safe.
"I will," he promised.
They chatted for a few more moments, and then Jane told her he ought to be going.
He stood to leave, then hesitated. "Can I ask you one more question?"
"Yeah?"
"Hardy could have picked either one of you," Jane mused. "Why do you think he chose you?"
"You think I don't ask myself that question every damn day?" Again, she gave him that wry smile that didn't touch her eyes. It was a smile meant to conceal all manner of things. Pain. Weariness. And above all, a sense of being lost, with very little hope of ever finding one's way again.
