“Yes,” Marybeth said, “I heard about the ear collection.”
Joe cringed. “You know he really doesn’t have one, right? That it’s his way of joking?”
“I knew that. But does Sheridan?”
“I think so.” What was he doing to his daughter?
“Don’t worry,” Marybeth said, as if reading his mind. “Sheridan might just have a better understanding of Nate than either of us. She’s almost grown up with him around.”
He chuckled, despite himself. And the phone chirped again.
“Hold on,” he said to Marybeth. Cupping the mike, he said to Sheridan, “Your phone is making a funny beep. Does that mean you have to charge it or something?”
Her eyes shot open. “No, Dad. That means there’s a call coming in. Or a text.”
It took a moment to realize what she meant. But Joe quickly said to Marybeth, “Look, I’ve got to go.”
“What?”
He snapped the phone closed. He felt bad doing that to Marybeth, but he knew he could always call her back and explain. Quickly, he handed the phone to Sheridan, who took it and looked at the display.
She said, “It’s a number I don’t recognize. There’s no text or message. It says I missed two calls.”
Joe thought, April took a fresh TracFone from the pharmacy in Rawlins. It would have a new number. And if it was April, her situation was desperate enough that she finally decided to call, not text.
“I know,” Sheridan said, again reading his mind, again staring at her phone. Again, willing it to ring.
Although Joe had told her to stay in the truck, she jammed the phone into her pocket and stalked away into the meadow to regroup. Joe didn’t stop her.
“JOE, THIS ROBERT ANGLE you suggested may have legs,” Coon said. Joe hadn’t seen him walk over from the helicopter, and his sudden presence jarred him. “I just talked to our team in Washington. They’re going crazy with the linkages. I can’t believe we weren’t looking in his direction before this. Stenko’s such a big fat target that we didn’t really move the spotlight off him.”
Joe turned away from Sheridan and her cell phone, hoping Coon wouldn’t pick up on what might be happening.
“Sometimes we think in too much of a linear way in law enforcement,” Joe said, echoing Nate.
“What?”
“Never mind.” Joe was preoccupied. If all Portenson wanted was Stenko’s head on a platter, as he said, April could once again end up being collateral damage. Joe refused to open up that possibility. Which meant he couldn’t yet confide in Coon regarding the incoming calls. They were back to square one.
Coon said, “The dead guy in Madison, Reif? Apparently, he was Robert’s nemesis. The two of them used to work together at one point and they founded the carbon-offset company together. But they had a falling out. Reif got disillusioned with either Robert or the cause or both, because he left ClimateSavior and spent all his time ripping our boy and the company on his own blog. He hated Robert and no doubt he damaged the credibility of Robert’s company and his cause. And then he turns up dead and Robert’s nowhere to be found.”
Joe said, “You guys need to run the spent casings on the lawn over there against casings found in Madison.”
“Already on it,” Coon said. “But there’s more. Like a double homicide in South Dakota of a couple with a giant RV. Robert had a thing against those big vehicles and he railed about it on his website. In fact, he tried to urge his fans to sabotage them.”
Joe said, “Keystone. That poor old couple.”
“Yeah.”
“And the Aspen wedding?”
Coon said, “Two trust fund kids with high profiles on the society and gossip pages. Two great big huge carbon footprints.”
Joe shook his head.
Coon said, “I don’t want to believe what it’s looking like. Plus, I believe in global warming and climate change. I don’t want this to screw up the effort. It’s up to all of us, you know. These guys could give it all a bad name.”
Joe grunted.
“There’s something else,” Coon said, stepping in closer and looking over his shoulder.
“What? Are you worried about your boss overhearing you?”
Coon leveled his gaze at Joe until Joe was uncomfortable.
Coon said, “I was watching your truck through my binoculars as we came in earlier. I saw you pull over and let somebody out.”
Joe looked away.
“Some big guy with a blond ponytail got out,” Coon said, taking another step toward Joe until they were inches apart. “That wouldn’t have been Nate Romanowski, would it?”
Joe said, “Who?” But he knew his face was flushed.
“So it was him,” Coon said. “You are a really lousy liar.”
Joe didn’t respond.
“If Portenson knew he was around, you would both be in a world of hurt,” Coon said. “Not that I told him what I saw.”
Joe nodded. He was grateful Coon hadn’t told his boss. And wished he were a better liar.
“What are you going to do if you find her, Joe?” Coon asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think you can save her?”
Joe met his eyes again. “I don’t know.”
Coon asked, “What do you know?”
Joe shook his head. “Not much. But I know she deserves better than what’s happened to her. She needs to know somebody cares.”
Coon started to speak but stopped himself. Instead, he tilted his head back and looked at the big blue autumn sky. Finally, he said, “That’s admirable. It may not be protocol, but it’s admirable.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond.
“If she calls again,” Coon said, “you need to give me the number. I’ll help you track her down.”
Joe made a decision. He said, “It’s a deal.”
Coon walked away.
In the meadow, Sheridan kicked though ankle-deep cheatgrass toward a wall of trees. She had no destination other than to have a few minutes to herself. She didn’t want to simply go home. Not without April. The grass was dry and stiff and crunched underfoot. She noted she wasn’t the only person to have recently walked through it. There were two parallel tracks heading from the house toward the trees-one heavier than the other. Then she saw the blood flecked across the stalks of grass and yelled, “Dad!”