Дэвид Балдаччи - End Game

“The white supremacists?” asked Reel.

Bender shook his head. “Harleys, Dodge Rams, Ford F150s. An old school bus and a couple of hearses.”

“Hearses.”

“They haul guns and ammo in them,” said Bender.

“And where do they haul them?” asked Robie.

“Wherever they want to. No law against it.”

“Sounds like your hands are tied,” said Reel.

“I can get my sister Patti and her buddies to look for the van,” said Bender. “They get around to places with their work that most around here don’t get to.”

“Okay,” said Reel.

“There’s something else,” said Bender.

“What’s that?” asked Reel.

“It has nothing to do with the investigation. But my mother has invited you two over for dinner tonight. Valerie’s coming too. And Patti.”

“I’m not sure we—” began Reel.

But Robie interrupted and said, “Sounds good. Thanks. Just tell us the time.”

As they walked out of the sheriff’s office a few minutes later Reel said, “What was that about? We have no leads on Blue Man. We’ve got some crazed Nazi gunning for us. The director is going to chew our asses out next time she talks to us, and we’re going to dinner?”

“We have to eat. And maybe what we’re missing on this case is some local color.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It might mean finding Blue Man. And if it does, it’s worth a dinner, Jess.”

“You like Amarone, Will?”

Claire Bender was dressed in sandals, black slacks, and a white sleeveless blouse revealing long and wiry tanned arms. Her silvery blonde hair was pulled back in a bun and clipped in place. Her features were animated and a smile played over her lips.

He looked at the glass of red wine she was holding out. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He took the wine from her and had a sip.

“It’s better than fine,” he commented.

Claire smiled. “I’m glad you like it. This is a beer-and-tequila sort of place. There aren’t many people in Grand who would appreciate a good wine.” She clinked her glass against his. “Roger loves Amarone.” She stopped and looked down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from. It was just automatic. We’ve shared many bottles of wine.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Let me show you something.”

She led him through to the rear of the house then out the back door. There was a detached six-car garage behind the main house.

She pulled a remote from her pocket and opened one of the doors.

“What do you think?”

Revealed behind the door was a vintage burgundy Cadillac convertible with a pair of Texas longhorns mounted on the front.

“Impressive.”

“I went to UT. Only time I really left Colorado. It just felt right at the time, but then I wanted to get back here. But I have a fondness in my heart for the Lone Star State. Go ahead and sit in it.”

Robie opened the driver’s door and slid into the front seat. The upholstery was white and in pristine shape.

Claire leaned against the front fender. “Took a year and more money than I want to think about to rehab this thing. It’s a 1966 Cadillac DeVille convertible. It’s got a 340-horsepower overhead cam V8. I think it actually gets minus miles to the gallon. It’s eighteen and a half feet long, which makes it pretty much bigger than my first home here.”

“They don’t make them like this anymore.”

“They don’t make anything like they did anymore. Did you know Roger drove this car when he lived here?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“He earned the money for it working during the summers. When he left for college, he gave it to me. Lot of good memories in this pile of metal and vinyl.”

Robie got out of the car and smiled. “I’m sure.”

Her smile faded as she gripped his arm. “Find him, Will. Please.”

“I’ll do my best. That I promise.”

Back inside Robie looked around and eyed Reel in conversation with Patti Bender. The woman had cleaned up from when they had seen her before. She wore a cream-colored skirt, an off-the-shoulder sweater, hoop earrings, and boots. Robie noted that she was not armed tonight. At least not visibly.

Her brother walked in a moment later with Malloy in tow. Derrick had changed into jeans, a white shirt worn untucked, his Stetson, and worn boots. His service piece rode in a holster on his hip.

Malloy had the most startling transformation. She was in a colorful sundress with strappy heels. Her hair was down around her shoulders and bounced a bit as she walked.

He felt a nudge on his arm. Claire said, “The sheriff looks mighty beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?”

Robie nodded. “She cleans up well.”

Claire smiled. “Yes, she does.”

Then Claire turned serious. “So have you found out anything about Roger’s disappearance?”

“I really can’t discuss that with you.”

“Oh come on. Do you think I’m going to go around telling everybody and maybe messing up your investigation? I want you to find Roger!”

“We’re working on it, Claire. That’s all I can say. And I meant what I said outside. I’m going to do all that I can to bring him back.”

“I heard there was a disturbance yesterday.”

“Where?”

“I can keep a secret, just like you.”

With a triumphant smile, Claire moved off and worked the room playing the gracious host, pouring out wine and handing out beers and chatting everyone up.

Malloy found Robie in the corner.

He said, “Didn’t expect to see you out of uniform.”

“I’m always on duty but that doesn’t mean I can’t occasionally dress like a girl, Robie.”

He lifted his glass. “I’m not saying otherwise. You look great.”

“Thank you,” she said primly.

A twinge of guilt hit Robie sharply enough to make him look away momentarily. He didn’t like holding the truth of Holly’s death from her sister, but they had made a deal with the FBI, and Robie couldn’t jeopardize that investigation. Not even when his gut was telling him to pull Malloy into another room and tell her everything.

“You okay?” she asked.

He looked back at her. “Sorry, just preoccupied.”

“I called a buddy of mine in New York. I told him about the creds you and your partner are carrying. You know what he said?”

“No, but I think you’re going to tell me.”

“He said that those sound like cred packs Feds use to cover up who they really are. And that people who do that are ones who have serious firepower back in DC.”

“Okay.”

“Is that an admission?”

“No, that was just me saying ‘okay.’”

“Bender talked to Patti. She didn’t have any insights on the white van. I mean we have them around here, but the ones I know about are used by contractors, subs... you know, plumbers and electricians. I know them all, and they’re not going to be involved in human trafficking.”

“So we really need to find Lamarre, if he’s still alive.”

“You really believe he saw what he said he did?”

“Why would he lie about something like that?”

“He probably wouldn’t,” she conceded.

“And the fact that he vanished right after telling his girlfriend he basically wanted to settle down with her and left his stuff behind?”

“You think whoever he saw got to him?”

“Sounds that way to me.”

“So she said he disappeared around the same time that Roger Walton did?”

“A few days earlier than Walton.”

“But he obviously saw the people in the van a while back. I mean he went into rehab in between that, when he talked to Holly.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“So what happened to change the status of things?”