C. Box - The Highway

To Jimmy, who was hovering behind the bar looking ashen, Legerski said, “Money’s on the table.”

Jimmy nodded.

She wondered again what the relationship was between them because it seemed both intimate and disquieting.

As the trooper went out the door, she felt immense relief. Something was happening. She’d set things in motion, and that’s all she could hope for at this point. Cody called it “flooding the zone.”

She snatched up the wad of cash Legerski had tossed on the table and matched it with bills from her purse. Clutching the bills, she followed the trooper out the door and caught him before he slid into his cruiser. When he looked up and saw her pursuing she thought she caught a quick reaction of startling contempt. But it was gone as quickly as it had been there and she hoped she was mistaken.

“Here,” she said, handing him the cash. “The least I can do is buy you breakfast.”

He shook his head and made no move to retrieve it. “Not necessary,” he said.

“I know it’s not necessary, but let me do it. I’m grateful.”

“You’re pushy,” he said, then caught himself. It was as if it had slipped out.

“A little,” she agreed. “Hey, I’ve got one more question.”

He didn’t turn toward her, but looked straight out the windshield. But he didn’t slide his window up.

“Cody asked me last night to check on those missing girls you mentioned. I did some research and didn’t find anything to work with, but I was reading up on the FBI Highway Serial Killer task force. It got me to thinking.”

“Thinking what?” the trooper asked with a flat voice.

“That if we don’t find anything on that church compound, we might want to do some interviews around here of long-haul truckers. You probably know them if they exist. What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to be late for my shift.”

“You’ve got my cell number, right? You’ll call when you know about the warrant and the assistance?”

“Got it,” he said. He seemed to be in a hurry to get away from her.

“Thank you again,” she said.

He nodded, backed out, and paused at the asphalt of the highway before turning left toward Livingston.

Cassie was buoyed with herself and watched him go. Before he wheeled out onto the pavement their eyes met in his rearview mirror and he mouthed something that she couldn’t hear but that pierced her like a knife in the heart.

Stupid cunt.

* * *

She tried to hold herself together and not react, and she turned sharply on her heel and walked away. Of course, she’d heard the word before. Of course, she’d been called it, especially from criminals she and Cody had apprehended. By the time she reached the end of the small gravel parking lot she was breathing again and she lifted her head.

It was cooling down outside. The wall of mountains on the other side of the valley had simply disappeared as if they were never there. In their place were roiling white clouds and spoors of snow falling toward the river. She hugged herself rather than go back to the Expedition for her coat, and walked aimlessly around the side of the First National toward the back. Her stomach hurt from tension, lack of sleep, the egg-white omelet, and what Legerski had called her. She doubted he knew she could see his mouth in the mirror. Maybe, she thought, he simply didn’t like the idea of a woman in charge of the investigation. Or maybe she had come on too strong, too pointed, too suspicious.

But a man didn’t use a word like that except to demean. And he no doubt meant what he said. It hurt.

As she meandered behind the bar she dug out her cell phone and called Sheriff Tubman.

Tubman was cool and dry, and grunted in affirmation as she updated him. He said he’d already contacted Sheriff Bryan Pedersen of Park County and Pedersen agreed to try and spare a couple of uniformed officers to drive down into Paradise Valley to help serve the warrant at the compound, “If there is one,” Tubman cautioned.

“Is that the best he can do?” Cassie asked sharply.

“It’s his county,” Tubman answered wearily. “He’s got spare guys going off shift early this afternoon for the holidays. He’s got to keep his essential personnel close in case they need to respond to something.”

“Christ,” Cassie said, “what could be more important than two missing girls and a missing cop?”

“Ex-cop,” Tubman said acidly. “And we don’t know where the girls went missing, Cassie. If we knew it was Park County it would be higher priority with him, but it’s all speculation at this point. We don’t know where the hell they were last seen.”

* * *

After she terminated the call, she called Jenny Hoyt. Jenny was weary and seemed resigned to very bad news. No, she’d not heard a word from Cody, and Justin had heard nothing from the Sullivan girls. No, Cody wasn’t sleeping it off in any town or county jails anywhere in southwestern Montana. No, the Sullivan parents hadn’t received a call or text from their daughters, either. Ted Sullivan, Jenny said, was flying to Helena that morning and had asked her about the investigation thus far.

“Don’t send him down here,” Cassie said. “He’d only get in the way.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Jenny said. “He sounds frantic on the phone. I’m not sure I can keep him here.”

“I’ll call you as soon as the warrant arrives,” Cassie said, leaning against a battered open Dumpster behind the bar, “and I’ll keep you posted after we go to the compound.”

“Thank you.” After a beat, Jenny said, “So are you thinking he might have gone there last night and someone did something to him? Maybe those church people?”

“I don’t know.”

“I remember reading about them a few years ago,” Jenny said, “They seem like a strange bunch of people. But why would they hurt a cop? That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Cassie said.

* * *

She closed the phone and dropped it in her bag. A light wave of pinprick snow washed through the air. The storm was sudden but didn’t seem long-lasting, she thought. All she needed was to get socked in before the nascent investigation even got going, she thought with gloom.

Whether it was the name Legerski mouthed about her or the questions he’d raised at the table, the simple weight of doubt seemed suddenly very heavy. All along, she’d assumed the disappearance of the Sullivan girls and Cody’s disappearance were of course related. But what if they weren’t? What if the girls had taken a wrong turn and hooked up with some boys their age, and Cody had simply kept driving? There hadn’t been enough time yet to conclude they were officially missing.

What if an all-out effort by Legerski and the Park County sheriff’s department turned out to confirm only that Investigator Cassie Dewell had overreacted for no good reason? She could guess what her colleagues would say about her, and knew what Sheriff Tubman would instigate.

She felt very alone. So alone, she wished Cody were there with her.

There was nothing to do but wait until she heard from Legerski about the warrant. She hoped it wouldn’t take long.

If nothing else, she thought, she could use the interim time getting a better feel for the highway and the valley. Figure out where the compound was and look it over from a distance. Drive the road south toward Yellowstone to see if she could find anything about the Sullivan girls or Cody the trooper had missed.

As she turned away from the blowing snow she found herself facing the open trash container. Cody always had a thing about garbage cans, she knew. He explained it by saying that when people threw things in the garbage it was almost like ridding the items from their lives. Out of sight, out of mind, he’d said. More than half the valuable evidence he’d retrieved in felony crimes came from rooting through garbage cans, he said.