C. Box - Force of Nature

“Did she hear an argument or a fight?”

“No. She was in the back room.”

“She didn’t see anything?”

“No.”

“Why’d she wait two days to call?” Joe asked.

“Actually, she didn’t,” Reed said. “She called Tuesday. But with everything we’ve got going on, nobody got back to her. That really hacked her off.”

“I see,” Joe said.

“So when Bob didn’t show up later and nobody from the sheriff’s department came out, this doctor went on the warpath, so to speak.”

“So to speak,” Joe echoed.

“She started calling everybody. The newspaper, the radio station, all the television folks in Billings and Casper. Even the governor. She accused the department of racism because we didn’t respond quickly.”

Joe looked up. “Well…”

“I know,” Reed said, shaking his head. “But that sort of thing happens all the time on the res. We all know it. People just kind of come and go. We don’t get too worked up about it until we know someone’s really missing and the Feds give us the go-ahead since they’ve got primary jurisdiction.”

“Was this your decision not to call her back?” Joe asked.

Reed shook his head. “No, it was McLanahan’s. But it doesn’t reflect very well on any of us.”

“Probably shouldn’t,” Joe said.

“Anyway,” Reed said, “what happened happened. The result was the mayor and the city council called McLanahan in yesterday to demand some answers. Nobody likes it that we’ve got unsolved murders like this, but it’s even worse when the whole department is accused of racism. Nobody likes us making this kind of news, especially the sheriff. I almost feel sorry for him, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

Joe clucked his tongue. He thought he knew where this was going but didn’t want to encourage it.

“That’s not all,” Reed said. “About eleven last night, we got a call from the FBI in Cheyenne. They wanted to see if we could confirm the fact that our person of interest in the triple homicides, Nate Romanowski, was the son of one Gordon Romanowski of Colorado Springs, Colorado.”

Joe felt his throat go dry.

“Seems a body was found in the senior Romanowski’s place. No ID, but a massive head wound that sounds suspiciously like our three rubes from the boat.”

“No ID?” Joe asked.

“That’s what they said. We don’t have a lot more information on it yet, but they’re investigating. You know the Feds-they don’t share information. They just collect it and make their case and keep us in the dark pretty much.”

“Do they think the body was Gordon Romanowski?”

“No,” Reed said. “That they’re sure about. But they said it looks like Gordon and his family-a second wife and two little girls-have split the scene. No one can locate them.”

Joe’s head spun. He’d checked the falconry website that morning and there had been no new entries.

“I got the impression there were some other unexplained things going on down there in Colorado Springs,” Reed said. “They wouldn’t tell us what was going on, but maybe there were other bodies found. I don’t know.”

“Man oh man,” Joe said, and whistled.

“So because of this mess we’ve got,” Reed said, leaning forward on the rail so he could get closer to Joe, “McLanahan is personally leading the Whiteplume investigation, so he assigned me as lead investigator on the triple homicides. He called the mayor and the editor of the newspaper last night to let them know. He hung me out to dry and set me up to fail. It was a good move on his part, I’ll give that to him. This way, when the election comes around, the voters will have a choice of the racist incumbent who has been there for a while and the incompetent deputy who can’t solve a triple homicide. It evens the playing field, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yup.”

“I need to ask you something,” Reed said, his voice dropping. “I know we’re friends, but I’ve got a job to do.”

Here it comes, Joe thought.

“I know you’re close with Romanowski,” Reed said. “So I’ve got to ask you if you’ve been in contact with him the last couple of days. In any way.”

Joe looked up. “I talked to him a couple of nights ago.”

Reed’s face hardened.

“He told me he didn’t commit murder,” Joe said. “I believe him.”

“You knew we wanted to talk with him,” Reed said.

Joe nodded. “And there wasn’t-and isn’t-an arrest warrant. I could have asked him to voluntarily show up at your office for questioning, but he wouldn’t have done it.”

Reed said softly, “I appreciate you being straight with me.”

Joe looked away again.

“Now I’ve got to ask you if you’ve been in contact with him in any form the last couple of days.”

Joe said, “I haven’t.”

“But you’ll let me know, right? Now that our department and the Feds are wanting to talk to him?”

“The Feds have been wanting to talk to him for years,” Joe said. “That’s nothing new.”

“But a dead body in his father’s house is.”

Joe nodded.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

“Do you know how we can reach him?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

Reed reacted as if slapped. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” Joe said. “So don’t ask me questions like that. Nate’s my friend. It’s possible he may reach out to me. I won’t betray him unless you can look me in the eye and say you know he’s done something bad.”

“It’s sure looking that way, isn’t it?” Reed asked. “The guy isn’t exactly stepping up to clear his name. And now this thing with his dad.”

“I honestly don’t know anything about that,” Joe said. “It does worry me, though.”

“That’s nice. You know, Joe, there are a few people who wonder about you. They wonder that when it comes to Nate Romanowski it’s a little questionable whose side you’re on.”

“Gee,” Joe said. “Who would those people be?”

Reed blew air out through his nose in a long sigh. “Jesus, Joe,” he said. “You’ve got to help me out here. Or I’ll start to wonder.”

Joe thought about it. His stomach was in knots. Reed was an honest cop and a friend as well. He might just be the next sheriff. Withholding information didn’t seem right.

Finally, Joe said, “Go out and talk to Pam Kelly. Sweat her if you have to.”

Reed looked up. “Did you interview her? Does she know something?”

“Go find out,” Joe said. He reached out for Reed’s empty cup and started for the house.

“Joe,” Reed said behind him.

Joe stopped.

“Tread lightly here,” Reed said. “Don’t get too tangled up in this. It isn’t your case. If it starts to seem like you’re playing games with us, well…”

“I know,” Joe said, and walked through the backyard to his house. While he was inside rinsing the cups, he heard the deputy’s vehicle start up and drive away.

Marybeth looked in on him in his office as he booted up his computer.

“If you’re trying to find John Nemecek, don’t waste your time,” she said.

He turned in his chair and raised his eyebrows. She stood there dressed only in flesh-colored panties and a matching bra.

“Good thing I didn’t invite Mike Reed in here for coffee,” he said, looking her over. “He might have been kind of distracted. I might have been kind of distracted.”

“How about you look me in the eye,” she commanded. “You’re not going to find what you’re looking for down there.”

He did so, reluctantly.

She said, “Unless you somehow got the name wrong, he doesn’t exist,” she said. “Nothing. Nada. He’s never been born.”