After I hung up, I explained the situation to Adrienne. She astonished me by being understanding. She said, “Thanks for the advice.”
I said, “That wasn’t advice. I don’t give advice.”
“Whatever. Thanks for making me feel like I’m not totally crazy.”
“Ren, this feels like the first time in days that someone has wanted my counsel on something where someone’s life wasn’t in danger. It’s actually refreshing.” I paused. “And I didn’t say you weren’t crazy. I merely said that it was just fine that you felt like dating Erin.”
She laughed and said, “Go, you have things to do.” And before I had a chance to ask, she added, “Don’t worry about Emily. She’s sleeping over here tonight.”
The call had been from Lucy Tanner, Sam’s partner. I didn’t know how she had tracked me down at Adrienne’s house and wasn’t sure I was eager to.
But she wanted me at the Boulder airport in twenty minutes, which gave me barely enough time to change my clothes and grab a heavy jacket and some gloves and get to my car.
She and I were, apparently, going to be crossing the Continental Divide in a helicopter in the dark, something far down on the list of things I’ve always wanted to do.
But the sheriff’s office in Routt County thought they had found Ed Robilio’s Holiday Rambler near Steamboat Springs.
Lucy was waiting for me in the parking lot at Boulder Aviation, dressed in black jeans, heavy ankle boots, a black turtleneck, and a leather bomber jacket.
“You know Sam can’t go. He’s not supposed to be anywhere near this case. But it was his idea that I take you along. I sold my sergeant on it and I told the locals that you were a psychological consultant to the department and that you just happened to know both of the kids and that you might help us end this peacefully. The local cops seemed grateful for the help. And Sam told me to tell you-as a matter of fact, he told me twice to tell you-that his conversation with his sister-in-law was fruitful. He actually said, ‘Fruitful.’ He surprises me sometimes. He surprises you, too?”
“Constantly.”
She led me through a gate in a chain-link fence. The helicopter was parked on the side of the tarmac. I’d expected a police helicopter borrowed from another jurisdiction. Instead, we were about to board the news helicopter owned by Channel 7.
“What’s the deal?” I asked.
“The department doesn’t have a helicopter and we needed a quick trip. The TV stations provide help sometimes on searches and things. We asked Channel 7. They declined. We told them it might relate to the Brenda Strait story. They balked. We told them nobody else would have the story. They said okay.”
“Just us?”
“Pilot’s coming. We all thought that would be a good idea. And I expect they’ll send a cameraman.”
“Person.”
“Whatever. I probably should have asked you this already. You don’t get airsick, do you?”
“Never have before. But then I’ve never crossed the Divide in a helicopter before. Certainly not in the dark.”
“That’s okay. Neither has the pilot.”
She watched my face turn ashen before she said, “Kidding. Says he does it all the time. Come on.”
The pilot was walking toward us. He was a little older than me and had the easygoing been-there-done-that manner of Marty Klein, my ER doc friend. He was dressed in corduroys and a polo shirt covered with a jean jacket and a down vest.
He introduced himself and said, “We’re ready. You know the rules?”
I looked at Lucy. She was impassive. I said, “No.”
“Do what I tell you. If for any reason you need to quickly exit, do so toward the front. If you can see me, you’re okay. Got it?”
I said, “Yes.” But I was thinking, Why might I need to quickly exit?
“She’s fueled. Let’s go.”
The cameraman and the pilot took the front seats and Lucy and I climbed into the back and buckled up. I asked her if she did this sort of thing often.
“I dated a guy who flew in the Air National Guard. But that was a while ago.”
I discerned her last few words by lipreading. The pilot had started the engine of his Bell Jet Ranger and was pantomiming to us to put our headphone/microphone units on.
The engine noise disappeared and the Bose headphones offered the clear voice of the pilot. “Any questions?”
“How do you know where you’re going?”
He laughed. “I know the way. I also have a GPS-Global Positioning Satellite-system. The thing can guide me to a specific elk during hunting season if I ask it to. The people we’re meeting have a portable GPS, they’re going to call in the coordinates to me. We’ll hit them like a hammer hits a nail.”
I wasn’t fond of the analogy.
A moment later we lifted off gently, and I was immediately mesmerized by Boulder’s lights as we headed northwest.
Lucy asked, “Tim, is there a way you can separate out our headphones from the ones you guys are using up front? There are some things we need to talk about privately.”
“No problem.” He touched a button on the control panel and raised his fingers in an okay sign.
Lucy touched me on the knee to get my attention. The lights had disappeared below, and I wondered how close we were flying to the ridge tops I was seeing so clearly.
“Yes?”
“Two new developments that I think you should know about. First, I think you should know that MedExcel contacted the Arapahoe County DA’s office this morning about an extortion attempt that was phoned in to Ed Robilio’s secretary late yesterday.”
“What kind of extortion attempt?”
Lucy shrugged. “There’s no tape of the call. But the secretary thought the voice was of a young female. She threatened to, quote, ‘bring the company down’ if ‘their’ demands weren’t met. Said it was about Dr. Robilio. Something that the company wouldn’t want made public.”
“Do you think it’s related to these kids? What are the demands?”
“Don’t know. And no demands yet. A voice in the background, a young male, was screaming at the caller to hang up. The secretary thinks he sounded angry, agitated. We think maybe he was timing the call, afraid of a trace. Silly, how would MedExcel have the capacity to trace a call that they didn’t know was coming?”
“Caller ID on the phone?”
“No such luck.”
“You think it has to do with these kids, Lucy? Did they find something at Robilio’s cabin? Or is it a bluff because they know half the cops in the state are looking for them?”
“I don’t know what to think, Alan.”
“What could they have found?”
She turned her palms up.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“What else should I know? You said there were two things you thought I should know.”
“Oh, yeah. The missing girl’s mother, hell, what’s her name?”
“Madison’s mother? Miggy Monroe?”
“Yes, good. Miggy Monroe. She called us at five-fifteen this evening, feels certain her daughter came home while she was at work today.”
“Really?”
“She says a couple of things are moved around and that some heavy boots and gloves are missing that she was sure were there before.”
“That’s it? Madison would risk coming home for some boots? Do you guys give much credence to this? It doesn’t make sense.”
“We’re not sure what to think. Her daughter has a key, of course. The place wasn’t a crime scene, so we didn’t work the place for physical evidence before, and the mom’s living there, so it’s hard to tell whether or not the story has merit. She’s the kid’s mom, so it could just be wishful thinking on her part. On the other hand, she could be right on. Maybe Madison is still in Boulder.”
“Anybody see anything?”
“Wits? Are you kidding?” She tapped the pilot on the shoulder and indicated that she wanted the communications opened again.
We listened in as Tim made radio contact with the local authorities and had the Routt County Sheriff provide wind speed and direction information for their location. He asked them to check for wires and other obstructions near the landing site.