“Got a name on her?”
“Yeah. Molly Pickens. She worked for me four years before Chief came along. Then she lit out with him, and I was short two people. Had to drag my wife in to wait tables, and I heard about it for weeks. So I remember.”
“Do you know how I can get in touch with Molly?”
“Haven’t seen or heard of her since that August.”
Coop felt a buzz at the back of his skull. “Does she have family? Friends? Someone I can get in touch with?”
“Look, buddy, I don’t keep tabs on people. She came in here looking for work. I gave her work. She got on fine with the rest, the customers. Minded her own business, and I minded mine.”
“Where was she from?”
“Christ, you’re a nosy bastard. Back east somewhere. Said once she’d had enough of her old man-couldn’t say if that was husband or father-and hit the road. She never gave me any trouble, till she took up with Chief.”
“She left you without notice. Did she take her things?”
“Didn’t have much. Packed up some clothes and such, cleared out her bank account, and took off in her old Ford Bronco.”
“Did she like the outdoors? Hiking, camping?”
“What the fuck? Are you looking for him or her?”
“Right now? Both of them.”
Bender heaved out an audible breath. “Now that you mention it, she liked being out and about. She was a good, strong girl. Liked to go off, take photographs in the park on her days off. Wanted to be a photographer, she said. She picked up some extra money selling photographs to tourists. I expect she landed on her feet somewhere.”
Coop wasn’t so sure of it. He worked Bender for more details, scrawling notes.
When he’d compiled everything, he sat back, shut his eyes, let his mind turn it over. Patterns, he thought. Patterns and circles and cycles. They were always there if you looked for them.
He shut everything down and went to see Willy.
The sheriff’s face was pasty with exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot, and his voice like the bottom of a gravel pit. “Caught something.” He sneezed heroically into a red bandanna. “Goddamn spring. Came back down from the search about a half hour ago.” He lifted a thick white mug. “Cup-a-Soup. Can’t taste a damn thing, but my ma always says you down chicken soup for a cold. I’m downing.”
“You haven’t found him.”
Willy shook his head. “A man can barely find his own pecker out in this mess. Supposed to let up tomorrow. That poor bastard’s alive, he’s miserable.” He drank, wincing. “Throat feels like my tonsils took sandpaper to it. It’s only been a day. He didn’t get hurt or dead, and he holed up out of the rain, he’ll do okay. He had pack food. Energy bars, water, trail mix, and the like. Wouldn’t starve. We’re mostly worried he’d get caught in a flash and drown.”
“Do you need more hands up there?”
“We got it covered. The fact is I’m worried somebody else is going to drown or fall off a damn cliff. Two on the search team had to be brought out. Got a broken ankle and what we thought was a heart attack. Just indigestion, it turns out. If we need to go up again tomorrow, we’ll need fresh horses.”
“You’ll have them. Willy-”
He broke off when a woman came to the door. “Sheriff.”
“Mrs. Tyler. Come right in here and sit down.” Wheezing, Willy got to his feet to lead her to a chair. “Now, you shouldn’t oughta be out in this weather.”
“I can’t just sit in the hotel room. I’m going crazy. I need to know what’s going on. I need to know something.”
“We’re doing everything we can. We’ve got a lot of men looking for your husband, Mrs. Tyler. Men who know the trails, who’ve done plenty of search-and-rescues before. You told me your husband was a sensible man.”
“Usually.”
She dashed a hand over her brimming eyes. From the look of them, Coop doubted she’d closed them for more than an hour since her husband had gone missing.
“He should’ve had more sense than to insist on making that hike.” She rocked in the chair as if the movement would help keep her calm. “He hasn’t hiked on much more than his own treadmill in five years.”
“Kept in shape, you said.”
“Yes. I should’ve gone with him.” Biting her lip, she rocked a little faster, a little harder. “I shouldn’t have let him go by himself. I just didn’t want to spend all day tromping around. I wanted to rent horses, but Jim, he’s nervous around horses. I thought I could talk him into coming back with me when we got to that junction. I was so annoyed when he wouldn’t. I snapped at him. The last thing I did was snap at him. Oh, my God.”
Willy let her weep, signaling Coop to stay and pulling up a chair so he could pat the woman’s arm.
“I know you’re scared, and I wish I had more to tell you, more that would ease your mind.”
“His phone. You said they’d try to track his cell phone.”
“I did. They did. We can’t find the signal. Could be the battery’s dead.”
“He’d have called. He’d have tried to call.” While her voice trembled, she mopped at her face with a tissue. “He wouldn’t want me worried. We charged our phones full before we started that morning. They said there’s flooding. On the news, they said.”
“He’s a sensible man. A sensible man sticks to high ground. We haven’t found him, Mrs. Tyler, but we haven’t found any signs to indicate anything happened to him. Let’s hold on to that for now.”
“I’m trying.”
“I’m going to have somebody take you back to the hotel. If you want, I can have someone stay with you, if you don’t want to be alone.”
“No. No, I’ll be all right. I haven’t called my boys-our sons. I was so sure he’d be back this morning, and now… it’s twenty-four hours since he should’ve been back. I think I have to call our boys.”
“You know best.”
“Jim just got it into his head he wanted to make this trip. Wild Bill, Calamity Jane, Crazy Horse, the Black Hills. We’ve got a three-year-old grandson, and another coming. He said we should practice taking them on hikes. He bought all new gear.”
“And you said he’d packed everything the guides recommended,” Will began as he led her out. “He had a map, a flashlight…”
Coop walked to the window to watch the rain hammer the ground. He waited until Willy came back and then shut the office door.
“Another night up there isn’t going to do Jim Tyler any good.”
Coop turned around. “If he ran into Ethan Howe, he might not have a second night.”
“Who’s Ethan Howe?”
Coop told him everything he knew, giving the information in a quick, concise report as he’d been trained to do as a cop, as an investigator.
“It’s a loose connection to Lil and her animals, but it’s a connection,” Willy allowed. “But as far as you know, or she remembers, this Howe and Lil never had any trouble, any hard words?”
“She barely remembered him, and then only because of the intern. He’s trouble, Willy. A drifter, a loner, stays off the grid-except for one serious bust. He’d been drinking. Slipped up there. Otherwise, he keeps his head down when he’s around people. He likes to talk about his Native American connection, but he blends. He’s got that temper, and that self-importance, his weak points.”
“I know a lot of people who have both of those.”
“Enough of a temper, according to her friends and family, to scare off this Carolyn Roderick,” Coop added. “She was a type, like the one from Montana. Athletic, pretty, strong, single. Molly Pickens emptied her bank account and left with him.”
Willy sat back with his white mug of soup, nodded as he sipped. “Of her own free will.”
“And that’s the last I can find her, when she left with him, of her own free will. There’s no credit card activity since that August, and up until then she used a MasterCard, regularly. She’s never renewed her driver’s license. Hasn’t filed taxes. She left Columbus, Ohio, in ’96. She was eighteen. Rumors of an abusive father, who didn’t file a missing-person’s report. She left a paper trail. I’ve picked up some of it. But when she left with Ethan Howe, nothing. No trail.”