‘Not a problem,’ said Ren, ‘but I’m afraid I do have to make tracks.’ She stood up. ‘Thank you for your time, Caroline.’
‘That’s OK. I wish I could be more help.’
Ren handed her a card. ‘Who knows? Maybe you can.’
Maybe if you decide to tell me some of those things you are hiding behind those pretty brown eyes.
Ren went back to the office and sat at her desk. She quickly typed as much as she could of her conversation with Caroline Quaintance. Paul Louderback wasn’t just her PT instructor. He had given her advice across the board. He always said to write everything down verbatim. Skim over what an interviewee is telling you and you miss vital verbal clues. ‘Put something into your own words,’ he said, ‘and you put yourself into the frame. Never forget that you’re supposed to be the one looking at the picture.’
Ren thought of Terrence Haggart being put in the frame of a missing person’s case and, by association, Oliver Haggart. Maybe her first encounter with Oliver Haggart had influenced her empathy; a man who had come to her rescue after her icy fall. That was a weird day. And gradually, something about it started to tug at her. Crooked man. Bodily fluid. Boots. Misty the dog …
* * *
Salem Swade sat on a stool at the bar of the Brockton Filly, looking like there was nothing in the world that could ever trouble him. Ren wondered what medication he took. And where can I get some? Misty lay quietly beside Salem, her leash tied around the base of the stool.
Ren walked over and put a hand on his forearm. ‘Hello, Salem,’ she said. ‘Do you remember me? I’m –’
He gave her a broad smile. ‘My John Prine buddy.’
‘Yes, sir. Would you mind if I talked to you a minute?’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
She nodded toward a booth. ‘You can take Misty with you.’
He untied Misty and they went to sit down.
‘No barking at me today, Misty,’ said Ren, smiling, rubbing the dog’s silky head, massaging her back. ‘Salem, how long have you had Misty?’
‘I want to say five years. Maybe more?’
‘Where did you find her?’
‘I got her from the shelter.’
‘Was it by any chance from Homeward Friends in Rifle?’
‘No. It was a shelter out in Frisco. That I do know.’
‘Oh,’ said Ren. ‘OK.’
‘She was in great shape, I’ll tell you that much. She wasn’t a scraggy thing.’
There was something in the lines in his face, the brightness in his eyes when he spoke. There was a lost boy inside Salem Swade who Ren wanted to wrap her arms around.
‘I think Misty’s got a special talent,’ she said.
‘She sure does,’ said Salem.
‘Well, even more than what you think,’ said Ren. ‘I think your little pal there is a very well trained dog.’
Salem’s eyes shone. ‘Well, how about that, girl?’ He ruffled Misty’s coat, pulling her gently toward him, hugging her tight.
Ren’s gaze was drawn to a man who stood up from a booth in the corner and walked up to the bar. He was heavily built on top, his neck and shoulders broad, his biceps pushing his arms wide of his body, his legs short. He was wearing a white vest with baggy green and pink work-out pants and white sneakers. His hair was pulled back tight into a thimble-sized pony-tail. He brought a bottle of Bud down to his booth with the stiffness of a man whose muscles wanted to pay him back.
Ren turned to Salem again.
‘Do you remember the day the FBI agent’s body was found on Quandary?’ said Ren.
Salem nodded. ‘I do. Same day I hitched a ride to Fairplay.’
‘Did you come home that night?’
‘Nope – the next morning. Cop cars everywhere. I had to go the back way to the cabin.’
‘What back way?’ said Ren.
‘The way that meant I didn’t have to go through the trailhead.’
‘You’ll have to show me. Was Misty with you?’
‘I left her in the cabin. Not a lot of people want to take you with a dog.’
‘Was she chained up?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I left her food and water, too.’
‘Of course you did. She’s a very loved little lady. And when you came home, was she where you left her?’
Salem nodded.
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘No, thank you, ma’am.’
She placed a hand on his and squeezed it. ‘You take care.’
‘Hey,’ he called, ‘what do you think she’s trained in?’
Finding dead people.
Ren smiled. ‘Karate.’
Ren walked up to the bar and took a stool. She thought about Robbie’s beautiful, arctic photo and the possibility that they were Misty’s paw prints across the snow. Had Misty gotten free of her chains that night and someone had tied her up again? Had Salem? Had he forgotten? Had he deliberately lied? Or had someone else taken Misty, untied her and brought her out into the snow to find a dead body?
Officers were at the trailhead that night, but because of the avalanche threat, no one was right up at what had been the scene. And Salem had said there was another easy route up to his cabin …
Ren watched the guy with the ponytail in the mirror behind the bar. She waited for Billy to come over and ordered a Coke.
‘Hi,’ said Ren.
‘Hi,’ said Billy.
‘Who’s this guy behind me?’
‘Which one?’ said Billy, not taking his eyes off her. Amazing eyes.
‘The opposite-of-a-Minotaur guy.’
Billy paused, then laughed when he realized who she was talking about. ‘Head of a man, body of a bull?’
Ren smiled and nodded. ‘That’s the one.’ She felt bad that she thought he might not have known.
‘I don’t know. He’s Mexican, doesn’t speak a lot of English.’
‘Does he come in here a lot?’
‘Once or twice a week.’
‘Anything I need to know?’
‘Jo and him seem to take toilet breaks at the same time …’
Ren glanced over at Jo, who had her bare right foot up on her left knee, dirty sole out. She was bent low, running a fingernail under each toenail. Jesus Christ. Ren watched the guy in the mirror behind the bar. He had the look of a man who was not choosy. Which made her smile when she caught his eyes on her ass. His gaze then slid over in Jo’s direction, a slow, heavy-lidded leer. A shiver ran up Ren’s neck. This guy is wrong. He smiled with