Missing in Conard County Page 4

  “Yeah, he always wants his black, I think.”

  “You?”

  “The biggest hot latte Maude makes.”

  “I’ll see you at the office, then.”

  She listened to her door squeak as she closed it. The thing always squeaked when it was cold. She glanced over her shoulder at Bugle and figured he was probably starting to get desperate for some room to move. He tolerated the caging part of the job, but he was naturally very active.

  Smothering a sigh, she threw her truck into gear and drove it the half block to the sheriff’s offices. Across the street was the courthouse square, where Bugle could run a few laps and deposit his business. She let him out, then grabbed a plastic bag to clean up after him. He was good about that, always doing his business near her so she didn’t have to run around needlessly.

  When he was done she dumped the bag in the trash can, then turned to cross the street to the office. She saw Al just about there carrying a tray and a big brown bag with handles from the diner.

  “That looks like more than coffee,” she remarked as they met at the door. Since his hands were full, she reached out to open it.

  “Maude’s clearing some things out for the night. I hope everyone likes pie.”

  “Maude’s pies? I think half this county would crawl across hot sand to get to one.”

  He gave a short laugh. Relief. They needed something to leaven the horror.

  Inside, the office was much quieter than it had been earlier. Only four officers sat at desks. Probably a great many deputies had been sent home to rest up for a search tomorrow. Any others might be out protecting the crash site. Even Velma had vanished, a very rare thing.

  Al lined up four pies on the table near the coffee. They were going to make plenty of people happy in the morning. Right now, he cut into an apple pie and served himself the wedge on a paper plate. “Hey, guys,” Al said to the others, “help yourself to the pie. What would you like, Kelly?”

  For the first time in hours she remembered that all she had eaten was a bowl of cereal.

  “There’s apple, blueberry, mincemeat and cherry.”

  The thought of any of them made her mouth water. “Apple would be great.”

  Gage had apparently heard their voices because he came out of the back, thanked them for the coffee and dug into the mincemeat pie.

  He led them to the conference room, where maps covered the table. “Planning for tomorrow,” he said as he eased into a high-backed chair. “Now, what’s going on with these three guys—who are being interviewed right now, I believe—and what didn’t you want to mention on the radio?”

  “I’ll let Al tell you,” Kelly said. “He thought of it.”

  “A wild hair,” Al said yet again.

  “It didn’t sound so wild after we went back to the tavern and talked to Martha. Go on.” She spooned a small bit of apple pie into her mouth, to make it clear she wasn’t talking, and wished only that she could savor it as all of Maude’s pies deserved savoring. Right now, as knotted with worry as she was, it might as well have been ash.

  “Well,” Al said slowly, “I was looking at the highway and shoulder. Everyone thinks the girls skidded.”

  “And you don’t?” Gage asked.

  “Not likely. If they’d braked, even if they didn’t leave tread marks on the pavement because of black ice, they’d have chewed up the shoulder, frozen or not. That car is too old to have anti-lock brakes, so there should have been some sign.”

  Gage swallowed a mouthful of mincemeat, followed by some coffee. “You’re right, and at last report from the scene, they’re not finding any clues as to why the car went off the road.” He paused, his dark gaze intent. “That doesn’t mean they won’t.”

  “I know. I’m not a crime scene tech. Hell, I’m only half a deputy.”

  “I beg to differ, but go on.”

  “Well, it was like a light going on in my head. Why wouldn’t they brake when going off the road? Maybe they were unconscious or seriously drunk on soft drinks.”

  Gage sat up a little straighter and put his paper plate and plastic fork down. Pain rippled across his face but it didn’t remain. The frown did.

  “You think they were drugged? Before they left the tavern?”

  Al shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t prove it.”

  “But,” Kelly interjected, “Martha, who served their drinks, said she often puts her drinks tray down, either to rebalance it or because people want to chat. In other words, nobody watched those girls’ drinks every second between bar and table.”

  “Nobody would think it necessary,” Gage murmured. He’d forgotten his pie and his coffee and rubbed his chin. “The problem around here is that people know one another. It wouldn’t occur to them to question the trustworthiness of a neighbor. Over time, they’ve sometimes had to, but by and large those are considered isolated incidents, nothing to worry about. Most people still don’t lock their doors. We’ve grown, it’s no longer a place where everyone knows everyone else, but the attitudes are still mired in an earlier time. We don’t even imagine anyone would drug three young women. And yet, it’s entirely possible we’ve got a sicko running around. As the old sheriff, Nate Tate, liked to say, ‘This county’s going to hell in a handbasket.’ Not really, but change has been happening for a while.”

  He fell silent for a few beats. “Drugs. Damn it all to hell, I can see it and it would explain a lot.”

  “They left the bar early, too,” Kelly said. “Kids that age don’t end their partying around ten o’clock. I imagine they started to feel unwell.”

  “Probably so.” He shook his head, then reached for his coffee. “Okay, then. Things just got even more complicated. If they were drugged, it had to be someone who didn’t stand out at Rusty’s place or we’d have heard about him by now.”

  He eyed Kelly. “In short, one of our neighbors.”

  Twenty minutes later, Gage sent them both on their way. “You need to rest up for tomorrow. It’s going to be a long, cold day.”

  “I want to know what kinds of answers we get from those three guys,” Kelly argued.

  “Unless one of them confesses, it’ll hold till morning. Besides, we’ve got a team going out there to try to speak to everyone who was at the bar last night. You might as well get your sleep. If anything breaks, I’ll let you know.”

  Kelly had to be content with that. She really didn’t know what else she could do out there.

  “Tips should start coming in,” she remarked. “I can man the phones.”

  “There are already four deputies out there doing exactly that. Take Bugle home.”

  Out of arguments, Kelly obeyed. Al walked out with her but only around the corner to where she was parked. He needed to collect his vehicle from down the street in front of the diner. Kelly watched her breath blow clouds, and couldn’t help but notice it was growing colder. Of course it was. It was night.

  And the young women...

  She truncated the thought. Running it ceaselessly through her head wasn’t going to improve anything. With the rising sun at least they could search, maybe stop to ask questions at homesteads that weren’t too far out.

  Right now...right now they just needed to wait for word to spread. Then would come the tips, mostly useless.

  But at the moment... She just shook her head.

  Al spoke as they neared her vehicle. “You going to be okay?”

  Her head snapped around and she stopped walking. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He faced her directly. “I’m a combat vet, Kelly. I know about second-guessing, delayed reactions and sometimes shutdowns. This has got you upset and worried. You give a damn. You’re not just going to go home and turn on the TV to some romantic comedy or suspense movie.”

  No, she wasn’t. Everything inside her was knotted with frustration and worry. She probably
wouldn’t sleep worth a damn. “Sometimes you just have to endure. Get through it.”

  He nodded. “I know. I’m just saying...” He turned his head away. “Forget it. You need an ear, I’m available. This is probably going to eat you alive until we find those girls.”

  She figured it probably would. She just hoped they found the young women soon and found them unharmed.

  Then she and Bugle headed home for what she anticipated was going to be a very long night.

  Chapter Four

  Day 2

  Bugle found the first scent. At the scene of the accident, he nosed the ground and followed it to the highway’s edge. There he stopped.

  It wasn’t a good sign, but everyone hoped Bugle was wrong or that some kind person had picked the girls up.

  Or at least everyone tried to hope. If the girls had been given a ride by a friendly person, surely they would have called home by now. The silence had become terrifying for their families, and for everyone else.

  Despite Bugle’s following the scent to the road, no one even thought of calling off the search. They might have walked down the pavement, the cold might have weakened their scents. Regardless, there was no way they’d stop this search, whatever the dog might indicate.

  Cadel Marcus, part-time deputy and dog trainer, joined Kelly at roadside with his K-9, Dasher. “I’m with you. Those girls didn’t wander off over the fields. No scents on the far side of the road either.”

  “We still have to look. Someone could have left them farther along.”

  “Maybe.” He nodded to Al, who joined them. “How’s the dog-catching business?”

  “I get most of them home. Say, if you want a shepherd mix to train, I have one whose owners are apparently fed up with his wanderlust.”

  Cadel nodded slowly. “Wonder what they’re doing to make him run. Yeah, I’ll take a look at him later. See what kind of potential he has.”

  Al’s voice turned dry. “He’s working on a teddy bear right now.”

  That drew a laugh from Cadel and even a very sober Kelly smiled.

  The helicopters flew above again, having taken off as soon as the light was good enough to see the ground below. The searchers, civilian and police, were divided up into about ten groups and spaced out along both sides of the highway, on either side of the wreck scene. Between the rough ground and brush, they had to move slowly in order to avoid missing something important.

  At this point few of the searchers hoped to find the girls. Now most of them were hoping for a clue. An item of clothing, a shoe, a purse, anything that might indicate the direction in which they had disappeared.

  To Kelly’s dismay, Bugle didn’t seem particularly interested. She knew that he could pick up a scent from quite a long distance, either on the ground or in the air above his head. His boredom was as loud as a paid infomercial.

  No girls around here.

  Her gloved hand tightened on his leather leash, and she had to force herself to pay attention anyway. Scents were harder to detect in the cold, she reminded herself. Bugle might need to get closer.

  But at that point, she didn’t know if finding the girls out here after a long cold night would necessarily be a good thing.

  Damned if they did, damned if they didn’t. Never had that phrase seemed more apt.

  * * *

  THE GROUND SEARCH was called off for the night. Not a thing had been found. Kelly dragged herself back to her snug little house on the edge of town, a place that needed far more attention than she gave it. All her plans for fixing it up had kind of washed away in the reality of being a deputy covering so much territory for such a relatively small department. Oh, they had enough people to cover the routine, and even a group of investigators and a crime scene unit, but when something blew up, it was all hands on deck.

  Something had blown up.

  She fed Bugle some extra kibble and treated him to some chicken livers she boiled for him from a frozen stash she kept. He’d had a long, cold day, too, and gratefully scarfed it all down.

  For herself she did nothing but make a pot of coffee because she needed something hot, fast. Then she collapsed in her easy chair, pinching the bridge of her nose to try to stave off a headache. The sense of hopelessness seemed beyond defeat right now. Occasionally she caught the sound of distant helicopter rotors as the two choppers kept up a search by spotlight in areas farther away from the wreck. The frigid dark made a continued search dangerous for people on foot, but the choppers kept up their valiant duty.

  They had long since passed the limit of how far the girls could have walked, so now they were in the territory of a possible body dump. Or an out-and-out kidnapping, although no one seemed willing to say the word out loud.

  In fact, no one seemed willing to consider the possibility that it might be too late for the three women. No one. A whole lot of determined people had spent a very long, very cold day hunting in the brush and gullies.

  Just as the coffeepot blew a loud burst of steam to announce that it had finished, she heard a sharp rap on her door. Sighing, she rose and went to answer it, trying not to hope it was good news about the missing women. Good news, however, would have crackled over her radio or come by phone.

  She opened the door, half expecting to see one of her neighbors with questions about the day’s search. Instead she found Al Carstairs. His cheeks were still reddened from the cold, and he was carrying two big brown bags with handles and a tray of tall coffee cups. “Don’t know about you, Kelly, but I’m starved and I don’t feel like cooking. Care to join me for dinner?”

  She couldn’t possibly have refused the offer. Not only was it kind, but she really didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. Weary or not, she smiled. “Come in. I just made coffee, though.” She reached to help with the cardboard tray.

  “I bet it isn’t a latte.”

  Despite all, she laughed. “It sure isn’t.”

  Once inside he carried the bags to the kitchen counter. Small as this house was, the living area and kitchen were a single room, divided by a small bar. Bugle evidently had taken a liking to Al, because as soon as his arms were empty, the dog nudged his leg, then sat expectantly with his tail sweeping the wood floor and displacing a colorful rag rug.

  Al obligingly squatted and gave the dog a good scratch around his ruff. Then he straightened and smiled at Kelly. “Bugle’s a great dog. Anyway, dinner. I hope you like steak sandwiches. They’re the most filling thing on Maude’s menu and after today I think we both need calories.”

  “A steak sandwich sounds wonderful,” she said, meaning it. “As many hours as we were out in the cold, I could probably eat a whole one.”

  The sandwiches were famous, and their size was always huge. Maude had always catered to hardworking ranchers, and people with more sedentary jobs made use of doggie bags. Kelly usually thought of a steak sandwich as two meals for the price of one.

  Not tonight, though. She had a feeling she could polish one off in its entirety.

  Al began pulling insulated containers out of the bags. He enumerated as he went. “Steak sandwich, steak sandwich, tossed salad, extra rolls for the extra hungry and another pie. I think Maude hopes that if she stokes us all on sugar we’ll find those girls.”

  “Energy will help,” she admitted. “I’m worn out. The cold absolutely drained me today.”

  He smiled her way. “Probably because we never took a break to warm up.”

  Bugle’s nose reached the countertop, and he sniffed, making a hopeful little whine.

  “You already had a huge dinner,” Kelly said to him.

  “He’s apparently got good taste, though.” Al’s great smile seemed to leaven the entire room.

  They decided to eat at the bar right out of the foam containers. “No dishes tonight,” said Al. “We’ve got another long day coming up.”

  She agreed, and felt no need to
apologize for failing to retrieve any of her limited quantity of plates, bowls and utensils.

  She’d known Al for several years, but didn’t really know him. It was odd, when she thought about it, but his work in animal control didn’t often cross with hers as a deputy.

  “You have a kennel out behind your house?” she asked him after she had swallowed the first juicy mouthful of the steak sandwich.

  “Oh, yeah. Insulated metal building with twenty cages. More like a barn. I seldom need that much room but occasionally it happens.”

  “But don’t the owners want them back?”

  “First I have to identify the owners, and that’s not always easy. When dogs slip out, they sometimes lose their collars and all too often they’re not microchipped. Then there are the dumped dogs.”

  “Dumped?” She turned her head to look at him. He held up a finger as he finished chewing and swallowing a mouthful of his sandwich.

  “Dumped,” he repeated. “God knows why, but some idiots think their dogs are equipped to become self-sustaining. Now, mind you, these are animals that haven’t had to hunt for a meal in their lives and are used to human care. Most of them, anyway. Some folks hope a rancher will find the animal and take it in. I hate to tell you how often that turns bad.”

  She nodded. “Why?”

  “I’ve been called out too often by a rancher who’s found a dead dog. He could just bury it, of course, or leave it for the vultures, but most ranchers care about animals more than that. So they call me, hoping I track someone down to tell them what happened to their animal. I wish I could. I wouldn’t be polite about it.”

  “Nor would I,” she admitted, feeling sickened by the thought of what those animals must have endured. “What a cruel thing to do!”

  “Especially when you consider they could have turned them in at any vet’s office if they didn’t want to hunt up a shelter. The lucky ones get found and fed while a rancher waits for me to show up. They don’t need another dog. Mainly because dozens are getting abandoned.”

  Kelly urged herself to eat more, and felt her appetite returning. “What do you do with the survivors?”