Missing in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  “Kennel them. The vet, Mike Windwalker, does his best to help get them adopted, but it’s not like we’re short on dogs around here. Or cats for that matter. But cats are better at looking after themselves, especially if they had some time with an older cat who taught them to hunt. And most of our ranchers and farmers don’t exactly mind another barn cat showing up. They’re useful.”

  “But the dogs aren’t?”

  “Not without a lot of training. Cadel Marcus takes some to train them as K-9s or service animals, but there’s a limit to what he can do, too.”

  “It sounds like a serious problem.”

  “It is.” He polished off his sandwich and some of the salad, then encouraged her to eat more. “Another long day ahead.”

  She didn’t want to think about it. Not until it arrived. Reminding herself that she’d been famished, she focused on savoring her dinner.

  At any other time, she realized she would have been feeling content. A pleasant, handsome man dining with her, and excellent dinner, Bugle pretending to sleep near the foot of her stool but alert for any falling crumbs.

  “That fireplace work?” he asked.

  “I believe so. I haven’t given it much of a workout because I’m gone too often.”

  “Wanna try it?”

  She shrugged as she was about to put the last bit of sandwich in her mouth. “Sure. It worked fine the one time I used it.”

  Shortly after she’d taken the job here, having moved from Laramie County. It had been a big change for her in terms of a smaller department serving fewer people overall, but that’s what she wanted. Community policing. She’d certainly found it here, and after five years had no desire to move on.

  There were dry logs stacked in a box near the fireplace, and he laid them on the grate with some twisted newspaper beneath them. They’d probably light good and fast as long as they’d been sitting there. Then he reached in to open the flue and an empty bird’s nest fell out onto the stack of wood.

  “I hope that’s the only one,” he remarked.

  “So do I.” She’d never had that chimney cleaned and if it was packed with stuff like that, it’d become an interesting evening.

  Grabbing a poker, he shoved it up inside the chimney and didn’t even loosen any creosote.

  “Well, here goes,” he said, pulling a butane lighter out of his pocket and holding it to the paper. “If the flame and smoke don’t head straight up, I’ll put it out.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t even work up any worry about it. Instead she began to gather up the remains of their dinner and put them away in the fridge. Except for the pie. That would be fine on the counter and she had a strong feeling both of them would want a piece before the evening was over.

  She looked over and saw the flames were standing straight up and that no smoke was escaping. “I guess it’s okay.”

  “Right as rain.” He remained squatting for a few more minutes while she finally settled into her recliner. There was a gooseneck chair on the other side of the battered side table. Oh, it was apparent that she entertained a whole lot. Yup.

  Mainly one girlfriend at a time.

  Al straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans. “I guess I should go. I’ve imposed...”

  “You haven’t imposed at all,” she interrupted swiftly. “Get comfortable. There’s still that pot of coffee and...” She trailed off.

  “You don’t want to be thinking about those girls tonight.”

  “Not if I can avoid it,” she admitted.

  “Me neither.”

  The lattes were long gone so he hunted up two mugs from her cupboards and brought a couple of cups of coffee to set on the end table. “You want anything in yours?”

  “Black is fine,” she answered. “Thanks.”

  A silence followed after he settled into the gooseneck chair. She knew why. They were both thinking about the same thing and neither of them wanted to talk about it. Even distractions hardly worked. Three young women were residing at the corners of her mind and wouldn’t go away. The second night.

  They could be looking only for bad things now.

  * * *

  THREE TEENS HUDDLED beneath a ragged blanket in a dank basement that even during the day had barely let in a crack of light. A pile of protein bars had been dumped in with them along with a bunch of plastic bottles of water.

  Their winter outerwear was gone, as were their shoes and phones. In trembling voices, they’d talked about finding a way to escape, but knew in the dangerous weather outside they wouldn’t get very far in their thin clothes and bare feet.

  All they could do was huddle together beneath a smelly blanket and wait. They tried to buck each other up, but young though they were they knew no good could come from this.

  Over the last twenty-four hours, hopelessness had begun to settle in. Tears had been frequent, terror had been constant, and at one point Mary Lou had even suggested they stop using the blanket and huddling and just freeze to death.

  The other two girls had gotten upset with her. Chantal pointed out tearily that they had hope only if they stayed alive.

  They grew quiet for long spells, feeling wearier and wearier. No protein bar could stave off the fatigue of constant fear.

  They sat in the dark, as close as they could get, while their nerves crawled, their bodies ached and their minds ran rampant with horrible ideas.

  They had no idea how they’d gotten here, nor any idea of who had put them here, but they knew there was no good reason for it. None.

  * * *

  EVEN COFFEE COULDN’T keep Kelly from dozing briefly in her easy chair. Sounds drew her out of an unpleasant nightmare and she saw Al putting another log on the fire.

  When he turned around, he saw that her eyes were open, and he gave her a half smile. “Want me to leave so you can get to bed?”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t a coward by nature but this event had disturbed her more than many. “I’m still feeling guilty.”

  “For what? I saw your report. No damage to the car, no occupants, no reason to think anything except a passerby picked them up to get them out of the cold. It was too dark to look for tire skid marks. I mean...”

  She nodded. “I know all that rationally, Al. It’s the irrational part of me that’s having trouble.”

  He pulled the gooseneck chair over until he was close enough to offer her his hand. She couldn’t help but reach over and take it.

  Bugle, finding this something entirely new in his experience, came over to investigate as if he weren’t certain anyone should be touching Kelly.

  “It’s okay, Bugle. Relax.”

  The dog sniffed their joined hands, then settled on the floor between them.

  Al grinned. “He’s still feeling protective, I see.”

  “Always. My buddy.” But her mind wasn’t on Bugle, and she needed to distract herself or she’d get no rest this awful night, but she had to be bright and ready for the morning. A quiet sigh escaped her.

  “Where are you from?” Al asked. “Someone said you used to be with the Laramie police, but I’m sure that wasn’t your entire life.”

  She summoned a smile. “No. Hardly. I’ve moved around. My dad is Puerto Rican and I was born there. My mom worked as an executive for one of the companies that had a business there, but she died five years ago. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, but given what she went through in the end, her death was a relief.” She shook her head a little. She didn’t want to go down this road. “Anyway, they moved to Florida when my mom was transferred. My dad was a police officer and he took a local job.”

  “So you followed in his footsteps?”

  “So it seems. I can’t remember ever wanting to do anything else, but I essentially won the lottery when I was tapped to be a K-9 officer. I love dogs. Dad wanted me to stay
in Florida, but I wanted to come up here. I visit him when I can. At least living in Florida, for him, means people don’t look at him suspiciously.”

  His brow rose. “Why would they do that?”

  “He’s Latin, Al. With a bit of Indio in him. I get cross-eyed looks, as well. A lot of folks still think I’m a foreigner. Many people seem to have a hard time believing Puerto Ricans are US citizens.”

  He was frowning faintly. “I hope you don’t run into a whole lot of that around here.”

  “No more than the indigenous people. Maybe less. I have a badge.”

  At that he laughed quietly. “That does help.”

  The smile felt awkward on her face, but it lifted her spirits a bit. She needed that. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do right now. She was about to ask him his story when the landline rang.

  Forgetting everything, nearly tripping over Bugle in her eagerness, she ran to get the phone. It was Gage Dalton. “I’m sure you’re wondering about those guys we questioned.”

  “Absolutely. Al Carstairs is here. I’m sure he wants to know, too. Speaker?”

  “Go ahead. Just don’t give me a reverb.”

  She punched the speaker button, then sat on one of the bar stools. “You’re on, Gage.”

  “Hi, Gage,” Al said.

  “Howdy. Okay, the long and short of it is that our three interviewees were put off by the way the girls dismissed them. Including our infamous drunk, Art Mason. Judging by what some of the other patrons said, he was in no condition to cross a room, let alone get down a highway. Jack, the janitor, said they wouldn’t let Art leave until he’d drunk a pot of coffee. Way too late for the accident. As for Keeb Dustin, he appeared so appalled by the idea he’d be interested in girls so young that the deputy believed him. Anyway, he only stopped by the table because they were laughing and he liked hearing they were having a good time. Warned ’em to avoid anyone who showed them too much attention, then moved on to the bar, where most folks saw him nursing a few longnecks until after midnight.”

  “So they’re clear,” Al said.

  “Well, hold on,” Gage answered. “At this point I’m not clearing anyone, but yeah, neither seems likely. The place was busy. I’m not sure anyone would have noticed if one of these guys left for a while. Then there’s Hal Olsen. Always on the lookout for a pretty woman. Apparently he scored that night because Lydie Dern says he went home with her about eleven or so. In the other direction, so they didn’t see anything on the road.”

  “Dang,” said Kelly, who only then realized just how much she’d been hoping they’d get a good clue.

  “We’ll keep an eye on them, of course,” Gage continued. “I’ve got a couple of men working the tavern tonight, to see if anyone remembers anything unusual about last night, but so far no go. It seems many of them weren’t there, and those who were had more important things on their minds.”

  Kelly chewed her lower lips for a few seconds. “Gage? Were the girls involved in anything that might have drawn attention? What have we got on their backgrounds now?”

  “Been working on that. Three young ladies, all with high grades, members of the soccer team and the debate club. If it weren’t for the fact that Jane Beauvoir was a member of the chess club, I’d have said the three of them were joined at the hip. Families all attend Good Shepherd Church, no one seems to think they had any enemies, either the teens or their parents...although that can always be a mistaken impression. Enemies don’t always announce themselves.”

  “True. You’re saying we don’t really have anything.”

  Gage snorted, audible through the speaker. “I’m saying we haven’t found it yet. Abducting three young women from the side of the road before eleven at night is a bold thing to do. It’s also stupid, because no matter how smart they think they are, perps always leave something behind. You remember that rule.”

  Kelly nodded even though she couldn’t be seen through the phone. “The perp takes something away but he always leaves something behind.”

  “We’ve just got to find it. Anyway, you two catch up on your sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

  Kelly disconnected and sat staring at the phone as if it might have something else to offer. The ugly truth was that it wouldn’t. It was like being inside a dark bag without a ray of light.

  Maybe like those girls.

  She passed a hand over her eyes as if she wanted to erase her thoughts, then looked over at Al. “It’s still early,” she said, surprised as her eyes grazed the wall clock. Not even nine yet.

  As long as she’d lived up north, some part of her still lived where she’d been born, when night didn’t fall so early even in the winter.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Not a very helpful call.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Weeding things out counts, too. But listen, don’t you have animals to look after?”

  “Not really. All the pets have been taken home. The rest have enough food to look after themselves tonight. Minks, by the way, don’t make friendly pets.”

  But he was standing and pushing the chair back to its original position.

  Crap, Kelly thought. He’d brought her dinner, she’d asked him to stay just a short while ago and now he was apparently taking her question as a dismissal. She slid off the stool, saying, “Al.”

  He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

  “I was asking about the animals, not hinting for you to leave.”

  “You should get some sleep,” he answered. “You heard Gage.”

  She hesitated, then said, “What makes minks bad pets, and would you like some of that pie you brought?”

  He laughed then. “Minks are hard to tame, even if you start when they’re still kits. It takes a lot of patience. And that’s just the start.”

  She pulled the aluminum foil off the pie and retrieved two small plates from the cupboard. A knife would have to do for cutting slices. “What’s the rest?”

  “They prefer a semiaquatic environment, not easy to do at home around here. They can be really aggressive and you can’t let them out because they’ll kill other minks if any are around, and foxes would love to dine on them. They should be solitary except during mating, and these folks made the mistake of keeping two. They weren’t exactly getting along.”

  “Wow. Worse than ferrets?”

  “Depends. They’re part of the same family of carnivores, Mustelidae. There you’ve got ferrets, skunks, weasels, even otters. But as long as you get a ferret young and give it plenty to entertain itself, it’ll be little trouble. Plus they can be truly affectionate. These minks?” He just shook his head. “Someone will think they’re adorable. Someone always does.”

  “So what will you do with them?” She passed him a slice of peach pie that smelled richly of cinnamon.

  He thanked her and slid onto a bar stool.

  “Coffee?”

  “With this?” he asked. “Absolutely. Maude’s pie can make my teeth curl.”

  That drew a laugh from her. “Lots of sugar. One of the reasons I don’t eat them often.” She cut herself a slice, then poured coffee for both of them from the waiting pot. It really hadn’t been that long ago that she’d made it. This day had been endless.

  Well, until now, anyway. She was enjoying Al’s company. “The minks,” she reminded him.

  “Oh, I’m looking for a facility to take them. A zoo, a rescue organization. We’ll see, but since they’ve been fed ground meat by humans since they were tiny, I’m not sure they could make it on their own even if they survived predators.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed, sliding onto the other stool. “I don’t know that I’d want to take them on.”

  “You’d need the facilities to survive it. They’re nocturnal but awake a lot in the daytime. They’re carnivores. They don’t like each other unless they’re mating.”

  “Sounds lik
e some marriages.”

  For the first time she heard his full-throated belly laugh.

  “Well,” she said, “it does.”

  “That’s what made me laugh. Anyway, I’ll find someone to take the minks. As for other animals...we’re quiet at the moment. I keep an eye out for strays when the weather’s dangerous like this, but most of them go home immediately. No pets have been dumped recently, at least none that have been found and reported to me.”

  The pie was an amazing combination of tart and sweet. She felt her mouth pucker and revel all at once. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the wonderful flavor.

  Al fell silent, too, and she could sense he was enjoying the pie as much as she was. It should have felt sinful, with those girls out there in some kind of terrible trouble, but somehow it didn’t.

  She couldn’t spend every minute worrying and thinking about it or she’d soon be no use to anyone. She’d learned a while ago that the toughest part of her job was trying not to get so involved her emotions began to rule her. Separation was essential. Even if she had to go to the ladies’ room and cry about it for a while until she could restore her balance.

  God knew, she’d seen some awful stuff that still lingered with her.

  “Did you grow up here?” she asked, once again seeking a diversionary train of conversation. Although, she admitted, she wanted to know more about Al.

  “Yeah, I did. Family’s gone now, though. The two of them operated a music store that mostly catered to students who wanted to rent instruments or take additional lessons. I used to love listening to my dad play the oboe. It’s such a beautiful, haunting sound, but put him and my mother together on a pair of saxophones and the place would rock.”

  She smiled. “That sounds wonderful. You musical?”

  “Me? Nah. I was at the wrong age to want to do anything my parents did. Bad enough I had to work at the store and sell sheet music and reeds. I used to go nuts sometimes watching a high-school-aged clarinetist try out a bunch of reeds before settling on one he or she liked. No thought to the cost of those discarded reeds, and sometimes I was never certain they could really tell the difference.”