“That and everything else he’s been through tonight. He’s always been an energy bomb ready to go off. Mattie works hard to make sure he stays well behaved.”
McCoy’s phone rang while Cole gave Robo some water. Distracted, Cole paid only half attention to McCoy’s side of the conversation. As the sheriff ended the call, Cole closed the hatch and joined him inside the SUV.
“That was Detective LoSasso,” McCoy said. “When she looked at the time frame of Mattie’s disappearance, she could see both vehicles more clearly on the gas station surveillance video, so she called in Deputy Garcia to take a look. He knows his cars. These videos aren’t recorded in color, but the sedan appears to be light gray or silver, maybe tan, and he thinks it’s a Chevrolet. The pickup truck is probably dark blue, brown, or charcoal, and it might be a half-ton Ford. As in the other video, the truck was a few minutes behind the sedan, and it doesn’t look like they’re traveling together. They’re both just headed west.”
Cole leaned back in his seat, digesting the information, and his thought process stirred an uneasy feeling in his gut. “William’s crime scene is west of town. We know that he was alive when he was taken into the forest. I hate to say it, but we need to consider the possibility that his killer is taking Mattie to the same area.”
“I know. And we have to wonder if we have some kind of ritualistic serial killer on our hands. Let’s go to the station. The satellite phone is there.” McCoy started the car and shifted into gear. “I’ll get on it and notify Brody. He can utilize the posse members who are up there to patrol the area between the upper and lower gravesites.”
The sheriff’s words made Cole’s gut twist. He fought to maintain an even keel. “That sedan on the road was probably just someone headed west out of town. But the truck, especially a half-ton with four-wheel drive, worries me.”
“Because?”
“A truck could be headed toward any one of dozens of off-road trails into the wilderness area. There are hundreds of square miles of forest out there. If he takes her up into that country, we’re lost.”
“There were horseshoe prints at William Cobb’s gravesite. We speculate that he arrived there on horseback.”
Cole expanded on the sheriff’s statement. “If horses were involved in William’s case, they might be in Mattie’s. A truck could have been headed west to someone’s property to pick up horses and a trailer.”
“I need to update the bulletin to the state highway to be on the lookout for a truck and possibly a trailer on highways leading to all points west of Timber Creek. There’s little traffic on the road this time of night. A rig for hauling horses would stand out.”
“And we need to search for a dark-colored Ford pickup parked at trailheads on the west side of town,” Cole said.
“I’ll call in Rainbow to coordinate volunteers. They can do that.”
As they pulled into the station parking lot, headlights of another car lit their SUV from behind.
McCoy opened his door to exit the car. “That’s Detective LoSasso now.”
When Cole opened the door on his side, Robo rushed forward and poked his nose through the mesh, trying to escape his compartment. His desperation mirrored what Cole was feeling, and it tugged at his heart. He spoke to the shepherd as he stroked his head. “I know, buddy. We’re doing the best we can. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
Terrified that he might not be able to deliver what he promised, he almost choked on his words.
TWENTY-NINE
Cole circled to the back of the vehicle and let Robo out, using the leash to transfer him into the station. Once inside, he set him free, and Robo rushed toward the staff office while Cole trailed behind.
The shepherd paced around the empty room to sniff, pausing at what Cole assumed must be Mattie’s desk, given the large dog cushion lying beside it. Robo gave the chair a thorough once over, and then turned to trot back out into the hallway, panting with nerves. Cole snatched up the dog bed and followed him.
He hoped to settle Robo down to rest in the briefing room, which Cole knew from experience doubled as a war room at times of emergency, and that’s where the dog was already headed. When he arrived at the room’s closed door, he scratched at it, and Cole hurried to tap before opening it for him.
From inside, McCoy told them to come in.
Robo trotted over to the sheriff before doing a quick scent-scan of each of the chairs. Rick Lawson was seated at the table with McCoy, a laptop in front of him.
McCoy looked at Cole as he approached. “I’ve updated the bulletin and activated volunteers to search trailheads west of town.”
Cole placed the dog bed on the floor. “Robo has become more agitated in the past half hour. I’m hoping the routine here might help him rest.”
He called Robo to the cushion and told him to lie down. The shepherd obeyed for a few beats before popping back up. In a tone that would leave no room for misunderstanding, Cole told him to stay. He eased back down on the cushion, watching Cole with a worried eye. Cole sat in the chair beside him and began a firm, circular massage on the dog’s shoulders and back.
Carrying her laptop, Stella entered the room and took a seat at the table. “Cole, tell us more about this drug Thianil. Where could someone get it?”
“From a veterinarian. It’s a schedule two narcotic, so it would be regulated. A vet could dispense it to his clients. And with a prescription, a client could get it from a vet supply store, but in both cases it would probably need to be special ordered. The nearest vet supply store in this area is fifty miles away in Willow Springs. For that matter, so is the nearest vet, other than me.”
“Could someone steal it?”
“Sure, but he’d have to know which veterinarian or supply outlet might have it on hand. I’m sure that not everyone stocks it. And those that do keep it locked up.”
“Do you keep it?” Lawson asked.
“Never heard of it before tonight.”
Lawson tapped the keys of his laptop. “I’ll set up a search in the NCIC database for theft of veterinary drugs, see if I can turn up anything.”
“What’s the NCIC?” Cole asked.
“National Crime Information Center. It’s a system maintained by the FBI. Local jurisdictions provide input for wanted or missing persons, stolen property, violent crimes, that sort of thing. I’ll set this for both Colorado and California entries.”
“I contacted Detective Hastings in Hollywood on his cell phone,” Stella said, her attention focused on her computer screen. “Woke him up. He’ll check in with his narcotics division about Thianil use and drug thefts in that area.”
McCoy stood and turned a dry erase board on wheels so that it faced them. A photo of a handsome, dark-haired man wearing a grease-stained coverall and aping for the camera, his hands inside a car’s engine, had been labeled William Cobb and pinned to the top. Cole swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat.
“Let’s do a quick rundown on William Cobb and look for commonalities that might help us find Mattie,” McCoy said.
Cole scanned the words written on the board, thinking it helped to see the information compiled in one place. The words “Labs Pending” at the bottom of the column struck him.
“Labs from William’s autopsy should be screened for thiafentanil oxalate,” Cole said.
“Requested,” Lawson said, as he tapped the keyboard of his laptop.
He focused on the column headed “Persons of Interest,” reading first those listed under a west coast subcategory: Tamara Bennett, girlfriend; Joseph Quintana, employer; gang friends; and Old Friend of the Family, unknown person.
“What’s the status on these west coast persons of interest?” he asked.
McCoy answered him. “The girlfriend, employer, and gang friends have all been cleared. The Old Friend of the Family is a ghost as far as we can determine. Nothing solid on that.”
“But that might be our guy.”
“It’s possible.”
Cole continue
d to massage Robo and felt rewarded by the dog’s response—he now lay quietly, his head lowered to rest between his front paws, his eyebrows twitching as he fought sleep.
He scanned the list under the “Local Persons of Interest” subheading which read: Gibson Galloway; Ed Lovejoy, sheep project; Tucker York, sheep project; shooter of bighorn ram, unknown; and Bret Flynn, near locale. Riley’s dad. Cole remembered when he’d brought his horse to the clinic for sutures, bringing to mind the possibility that he’d been up on Redstone Ridge on Sunday.
“What about the local people?” Cole asked.
Stella brought him up to speed. “Ed Lovejoy can be eliminated for the ram and Mattie, and he has no known connection to California for William. Tucker York worked in California wildlife management five years prior to moving here, no alibi for the ram, and denies knowing William.”
“No response to my attempts to reach him tonight,” McCoy said.
“And most likely to have access to Thianil,” Cole added with an even worse feeling about York. “Who is this Gibson Galloway?”
McCoy answered. “Mattie arrested him on Saturday night. From Bakersfield, California and denies knowledge of William Cobb. Threatened Mattie during the arrest Saturday night.”
Stella spoke up. “She and I interviewed him yesterday. Says he was in Kansas during the time period for William’s death, but alibi remains unconfirmed. I suggest we send Deputies Garcia and Johnson to bring him in for questioning. And let’s get a warrant to test his rifles for a match with our slug and casing.”
“Agreed.” McCoy reached for his cell phone to set things in motion.
Cole came back to Bret Flynn. “Flynn’s daughter Riley is staying at my house. She said he’s tending bar in Hightower until two.” He glanced at the plain-faced clock on the wall. “It’s almost that time now, and he should still be at the Hornet’s Nest.”
Stella tapped the screen of her cell phone, evidently finding the number. “I’ll make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be.”
“Where does he live?” Lawson asked.
Cole heard Stella ask for Flynn while he answered Lawson’s question. “He and his daughter live west of town, just beyond the city limits. His wife died about six months ago, and they moved here from Los Angeles.”
Lawson raised a brow. “California—has anyone interviewed him yet?”
“Not yet,” McCoy said. “Another one who didn’t reply to a message today.”
“Would he follow that westbound highway that we have on surveillance to get to his home?” Lawson asked Cole.
“He would.”
Stella disconnected and came back to the table. “Flynn’s not there. He was scheduled for work tonight, but he called in sick.”
“What kind of vehicle does he drive?” Lawson asked, rising from his seat.
Cole tried to recall but hadn’t paid attention. “I can’t say. It was dark when he came to my clinic, but I know he has a pickup and trailer.”
“Close enough,” Stella said. “Let’s go see if he’s at home.”
He looked down at Robo, who’d finally fallen asleep. He hated to wake him, but they needed the dog’s special ability to indicate if Mattie was on the Flynn premises. Hoping that the dog’s power nap had been enough to reset his nervous system, Cole stroked him gently and said his name. Robo’s eyes popped open, coming into focus within seconds as he gazed up at Cole.
“Let’s go, buddy,” he said. Robo heaved to his feet and headed for the door.
Cole and Stella took the K-9 unit while McCoy and Lawson drove the sheriff’s Jeep. Robo stood in the back, his eyes focused on the windshield, and Cole noticed with relief that he had stopped panting and bouncing around the cage. The brief sleep had done him some good.
Cole had never been to the Flynn place before, but he’d seen it from the highway. It took only a few minutes to arrive at the front yard and park. From this vantage point, the pickup truck in question was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the horses. There should have been two. Being curious animals, horses almost always came to the fence when people arrived, but there was no sign of a nose or a nicker. He shared his observations with Stella.
She opened her door. “You stay here,” she said, and she wasn’t talking to the dog.
“All right, but I want to get Robo out and make sure Mattie’s not here before we leave.”
“One step at time, cowboy.” She exited the vehicle, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Robo stood rooted on his platform, his eyes fixed on Stella’s back. Cole was glad to see that he wasn’t trying to escape, and the frantic behavior that he’d demonstrated earlier seemed to have subsided. He threaded his hand through the heavy-gauge screen and kneaded the ruff behind Robo’s ears while they waited, their front row seat helping to alleviate his own impatience.
Stella and McCoy went up to the porch, while Lawson remained down in the yard. McCoy banged on the door. He waited a half-minute and pounded the door again. Still no answer. McCoy continued to knock, identifying himself in a deep, booming voice. Cole didn’t doubt that if Flynn happened to be inside asleep, the noise would have awakened him.
The officers exchanged a few words, and then Stella turned to head back his way. Cole took that as a cue that it was his time to play ball.
He tried to remember how Mattie always started a search and came up with: “Let’s go to work, Robo.”
Robo met him at the back hatch, where once again, Cole clipped on his leash and gave him some water.
Stella came up beside him. “No answer. We don’t have a warrant, so we can’t enter any buildings. See if Robo can turn up anything outside here.”
Cole used Mattie’s T-shirt to refresh Robo’s scent memory and then told him to search. The shepherd surged forward. With no hesitation whatsoever, Robo put his nose to the ground and trotted up the steps to the porch. When he reached the door, he sat, turning his head to stare at Cole.
His excitement skyrocketed. “He’s got a hit! He found Mattie’s scent by the door!”
“I’ll call for a warrant,” McCoy said, heading for his Jeep.
Cole tried the doorknob and found it locked.
“Back off, Cole,” Stella said. “Under these circumstances we can get that warrant verbally. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Soon McCoy exited his Jeep. “I have a verbal warrant and permission to search inside buildings from Judge Taylor. Let’s force the lock.” He was carrying a small, leather kit with him, unzipping it as he approached. “I can pick it.”
He extracted two tools before tucking the closed kit under his arm to free up both hands. Cole supposed that after years in law enforcement, the sheriff had learned how to breach locked doors without kicking them in. This particular knob appeared cheap, and McCoy gained entry within seconds.
“Timber Creek County Sheriff,” McCoy shouted as he opened the door. “We’re coming in.”
Silence.
McCoy entered the room first, his flashlight held high and off to the side, away from his body. “Wait here, Cole.”
Stella and Lawson followed him in, each drawing their weapon. Even from out on the porch, Cole could feel the stillness of the house, and he knew there would be no one home.
Lights shone through windows in turn as the officers went through and cleared the building. Stella came back to the door and gestured for him to come in. “See if Robo can pick up her scent inside.”
Cole entered the living room, bringing Robo with him. What appeared to be new but inexpensive furniture clustered around a television, a coffee table in front of a couch and two upholstered chairs. Dirty dishes and discarded clothing littered their surfaces.
He directed Robo to search, following along as the dog put his nose to the floor, swept the room, and then trotted off to the kitchen. From there, Robo circled back to a hallway that led to two bedrooms—one obviously assigned to Riley, one to her dad—and a large, outdated, green-tiled bathroom.
No hits, no indication from
Robo that he’d found Mattie’s scent.
Confident that Robo was working for him, Cole rejoined the others in the living room. “He hasn’t found her scent inside, but he definitely hit outside on the porch.”
“I’ll check to see if the vehicles are in the barn,” Lawson said as he left.
“I’ll back you up,” McCoy said.
“Do we know if Mattie came here today for any reason?” Stella asked.
“No, but I can ask Riley.” Cole withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, swiped to his contacts list, and dialed the teen.
It took a few rings for her to answer, and when she did, Cole could tell he’d awakened her. He gritted his teeth when she told him Mattie had come to the house to speak with her dad on Tuesday morning, little more than twenty-four hours earlier. Of course Robo would have found her scent on the porch.
“Have you heard from your dad?” Cole asked her.
“No.”
“He didn’t answer your text?”
“No, but when he’s working, he doesn’t always answer.”
“Call me if you hear from him, okay?” After she agreed, he disconnected and shared the information with Stella.
“Damn it!” Stella said. “I thought Robo had a definite hit.”
“He did. It just wasn’t what we thought it was.”
Lawson and McCoy sprinted back from the barn. “No vehicles out there,” McCoy said.
Stella told them what they’d learned from Riley as she took out her cell phone. “I’ll call dispatch to run a trace on Bret Flynn’s truck so that we can get a description and plate number. We’ll have Rainbow alert the volunteers to look for it at the trailheads.”
Disappointed, Cole followed Stella to the Explorer. He glanced at his watch. Time was passing too quickly, and he couldn’t help but think that for Mattie, it could be running out.
* * *
Mattie felt like she was finally getting somewhere. Sensation had returned to her hands enough to tell that her wrists were bound. Nevertheless, she flexed and released her fingers repeatedly, gaining progress in their strength by the minute.
Burning Ridge Page 21
