up.”
“So one more time, Ms. Drango, did Lamarre tell you about seeing prisoners?”
She sighed and nodded. “Okay, look, it was before he went into rehab. He got home from work real late one night. I was just getting in bed after soaking my feet, which were swollen like watermelons from being on ’em all day. He walked into the bedroom looking like he’d seen a ghost.”
“What did he say he’d seen?”
“A van pulled up to the store to get some gas. He said a dude got out but he had trouble with the pump. The reader thing wasn’t recognizing the credit card or some such. Happens at the restaurant where I work, too. Anyway, there’s a button you can press for assistance. So Clém came out of the cage behind the counter and went outside. He went armed, he said, because folks have tried to trick him before to get him out of the cage. But this guy was legit. The reader was screwed up.”
“Okay,” said Robie. “Then what?”
“So Clém is fiddling with the reader, trying to see what the problem was. While he was doing that the guy opens the driver’s-side door to get something out. Clém said he saw a holstered weapon on the guy’s belt when his jacket rode up. And the interior light comes on when the door opens. That’s when Clém saw it.”
“Saw what exactly?” asked Reel.
“In the rearview mirror. Clém said it was one of those panoramic ones. It showed into the back of the van. He said there were like six people back there shackled and hooded. They were alive, because he saw two of them move around a bit. A guy was guarding them.”
“What did Clém do then?”
“Look, he’s no hero, okay? Now, if somebody was coming after him or me, even Clém would fight you. But this wasn’t his fight. He had no idea who those people were. When the guy got back out of the truck, Clém told him the reader wouldn’t work but they could take cash. So the guy paid in cash, filled up his tank, and that was that. He drove off.”
“And why didn’t Lamarre call the cops?”
“Hell, I don’t know. He said he’d half-convinced himself he’d imagined it all. Or that maybe the guys with guns were cops and the people in the back were prisoners. Maybe, you know terrorists. They use hoods on ’em. I seen pictures of them assholes at Gitmo.”
“Gitmo is a long way from here,” noted Robie.
“Hey, I don’t know what to tell you. So he didn’t call the cops. But I guess it kept bugging him. But why would he disappear? They didn’t know he’d seen anything. If they did, wouldn’t they’ve just shot him right there?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Robie. “He didn’t get a license plate number or anything?”
“If he did he didn’t tell me. It was a white panel van. He did say it had Colorado plates.”
“Well, that narrows it down to a few hundred thousand,” said Reel sarcastically.
“I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”
“We’re going to take the suitcase,” said Robie. “Anything else here of his?”
Drango looked around. “I don’t think so.”
“Did he have a phone or laptop?”
“He had a phone because I told you I called it. He didn’t have no laptop.”
“Okay, thanks. One last thing. Have you told anyone about what Lamarre told you?”
She hesitated. “No, not that I can remember. I mean, I thought it was horseshit, so why would I have?”
They left her standing by the front door looking as lost as the woman on the tattoo.
“Some life,” said Robie.
“You think we have it any better?” replied Reel.
When they got back to the hotel in Grand, there was a package waiting for them.
“Bomb?” said Reel.
Robie opened the package. Inside were their pistols and phones.
“Where the hell did these come from?” asked Reel.
“There’s a note.”
Robie unfolded the slip of paper and read off it. “From a friend on the inside. Phones clean. Dolph laying low. DS.”
“Dwight Sanders,” said Reel. “He said he had someone on the inside with Dolph. They must have gotten our stuff back somehow.”
“And Dolph is lying low. Well, that’s something positive and might give us some breathing room,” said Robie.
They finally hit the sack after what was, even for them, an eventful day.
Chapter
35
“THIS DOESN’T LOOK good,” said Reel.
It was the next morning and they had just walked out of the hotel in Grand.
Valerie Malloy was climbing out of her Mustang. When the sheriff saw them she immediately rushed forward and confronted them.
“We found your truck shot to shit and you weren’t inside it. Derrick happened on it a few hours ago and radioed it in. I’ve been calling your cells ever since.”
“We had our phones turned off,” said Robie.
Malloy got right in his face. “Cut the crap and tell me what’s going on. This is my town and I’m responsible for what goes on.”
“Okay, you want to discuss it here or back at the station?” said Robie.
In answer Malloy got in her cruiser and pulled out so fast Robie had to jump out of the way.
They followed on foot.
Inside the station they found Derrick Bender making some coffee.
“Glad to see you folks are okay,” he said.
“Yeah, we are too,” said Reel.
Malloy stepped out of her office. “In here. Let’s have that powwow. You too, Derrick. And bring some coffee.”
Reel and Robie followed Malloy back into her office. They stared at each other until Bender came in with four cups of coffee on a tray.
“Everybody okay with black?” he asked.
“Works for me,” said Reel, and Robie nodded.
They all took sips and then Malloy pounced. “I thought we were going to be working this investigation together. But so far, you both have left us completely out of the loop.”
“Not our intent, Sheriff,” said Reel.
“It sure as hell is,” countered Malloy. “Now, I need to know everything you’ve found out since we last spoke. And I mean everything. There’s shit going on around here and I will not be left out of the loop.”
Robie glanced at Reel and then looked back at Malloy. “Okay, we’ll start from the beginning and go forward. How’s that sound?”
“Don’t leave anything out.”
It took over thirty minutes, but between them Reel and Robie filled the pair in on what had happened. But they left out the part about Holly’s and Luke’s deaths and the FBI’s being behind the King’s Apostles.
“So they kidnapped you,” said Malloy. “And tried to get Reel to murder you?”
“That’s the gist of it,” admitted Robie.
“Then we can nail those bastards,” said Bender.
“With what?” asked Robie. “You and Bender and a few state cops who obviously want no part of those pricks? They’ve got over a hundred men there and they’re loaded for bear. And they’ll have gotten rid of any evidence, so it becomes our word against theirs.”
“And nailing those bastards is not our job,” added Reel. “Our job is to find Roger Walton. And our leads keep disappearing. Lamarre was our best shot and we have no idea where he is. So we’re back at square one. We don’t have time to be embroiled in a criminal trial.”
“But it could be that Dolph and his skinheads took Walton,” suggested Malloy.
“It could be, but we were there and saw no evidence of that. And like what happened with us, by now they would have covered any trace of that.”
“If you broke out of his place, he’s going to be coming for you.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Robie.
“And you can’t guarantee our safety, we know,” said Reel. “But we’ve got this.”
“Look, you want to find Walton. I want to help you do that.”
Reel said, “Okay, got any ideas on where we go from here?�
��
“Well, now that I have no idea where my sister is, I can focus my energies on coming up with some. I just hope to God she’s safe.”
At these words, Reel looked away.
Robie said, “A white panel van. It stopped at Clyde’s for gas. Lamarre was working that night. He saw what he saw.”
Bender said, “Well, if they stopped for gas, then I guess they were either starting out from here and going a long distance or else they were coming from somewhere and had to stop and fill up before they got there.”
Reel looked impressed. “That’s a good point.”
He smiled shyly. “I have ’em on occasion.”
Robie said, “So if the latter, where might that be?”
Malloy said, “I’ve never seen the skinheads in a white van. They favor pickup trucks. King’s Apostles don’t have any vans. They’ve got trucks and a Hummer.”
“The white supremacists?” asked Reel.
Bender shook his head. “Harleys, Dodge Rams, Ford F150s. An old school bus and a couple of hearses.”
“Hearses.”
“They haul guns and ammo in them,” said Bender.
“And where do they haul them?” asked Robie.
“Wherever they want to. No law against it.”
“Sounds like your hands are tied,” said Reel.
“I can get my sister Patti and her buddies to look for the van,” said Bender. “They get around to places with their work that most around here don’t get to.”
“Okay,” said Reel.
“There’s something else,” said Bender.
“What’s that?” asked Reel.
“It has nothing to do with the investigation. But my mother has invited you two over for dinner tonight. Valerie’s coming too. And Patti.”
“I’m not sure we—” began Reel.
But Robie interrupted and said, “Sounds good. Thanks. Just tell us the time.”
As they walked out of the sheriff’s office a few minutes later Reel said, “What was that about? We have no leads on Blue Man. We’ve got some crazed Nazi gunning for us. The director is going to chew our asses out next time she talks to us, and we’re going to dinner?”
“We have to eat. And maybe what we’re missing on this case is some local color.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It might mean finding Blue Man. And if it does, it’s worth a dinner, Jess.”
Chapter
36
“YOU LIKE AMARONE, Will?”
Claire Bender was dressed in sandals, black slacks, and a white sleeveless blouse revealing long and wiry tanned arms. Her silvery blonde hair was pulled back in a bun and clipped in place. Her features were animated and a smile played over her lips.
He looked at the glass of red wine she was holding out. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He took the wine from her and had a sip.
“It’s better than fine,” he commented.
Claire smiled. “I’m glad you like it. This is a beer-and-tequila sort of place. There aren’t many people in Grand who would appreciate a good wine.” She clinked her glass against his. “Roger loves Amarone.” She stopped and looked down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from. It was just automatic. We’ve shared many bottles of wine.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“Let me show you something.”
She led him through to the rear of the house then out the back door. There was a detached six-car garage behind the main house.
She pulled a remote from her pocket and opened one of the doors.
“What do you think?”
Revealed behind the door was a vintage burgundy Cadillac convertible with a pair of Texas longhorns mounted on the front.
“Impressive.”
“I went to UT. Only time I really left Colorado. It just felt right at the time, but then I wanted to get back here. But I have a fondness in my heart for the Lone Star State. Go ahead and sit in it.”
Robie opened the driver’s door and slid into the front seat. The upholstery was white and in pristine shape.
Claire leaned against the front fender. “Took a year and more money than I want to think about to rehab this thing. It’s a 1966 Cadillac DeVille convertible. It’s got a 340-horsepower overhead cam V8. I think it actually gets minus miles to the gallon. It’s eighteen and a half feet long, which makes it pretty much bigger than my first home here.”
“They don’t make them like this anymore.”
“They don’t make anything like they did anymore. Did you know Roger drove this car when he lived here?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He earned the money for it working during the summers. When he left for college, he gave it to me. Lot of good memories in this pile of metal and vinyl.”
Robie got out of the car and smiled. “I’m sure.”
Her smile faded as she gripped his arm. “Find him, Will. Please.”
“I’ll do my best. That I promise.”
Back inside Robie looked around and eyed Reel in conversation with Patti Bender. The woman had cleaned up from when they had seen her before. She wore a cream-colored skirt, an off-the-shoulder sweater, hoop earrings, and boots. Robie noted that she was not armed tonight. At least not visibly.
Her brother walked in a moment later with Malloy in tow. Derrick had changed into jeans, a white shirt worn untucked, his Stetson, and worn boots. His service piece rode in a holster on his hip.
Malloy had the most startling transformation. She was in a colorful sundress with strappy heels. Her hair was down around her shoulders and bounced a bit as she walked.
He felt a nudge on his arm. Claire said, “The sheriff looks mighty beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?”
Robie nodded. “She cleans up well.”
Claire smiled. “Yes, she does.”
Then Claire turned serious. “So have you found out anything about Roger’s disappearance?”
“I really can’t discuss that with you.”
“Oh come on. Do you think I’m going to go around telling everybody and maybe messing up your investigation? I want you to find Roger!”
“We’re working on it, Claire. That’s all I can say. And I meant what I said outside. I’m going to do all that I can to bring him back.”
“I heard there was a disturbance yesterday.”
“Where?”
“I can keep a secret, just like you.”
With a triumphant smile, Claire moved off and worked the room playing the gracious host, pouring out wine and handing out beers and chatting everyone up.
Malloy found Robie in the corner.
He said, “Didn’t expect to see you out of uniform.”
End Game Page 22