“Undersheriff. Yes, sir.”
His eyes flicked past her toward the Acostas’ house, and then over toward Zeigler’s. “You have to explain all this to me. I need to talk with Kevin.”
“There isn’t a lot I can tell you yet, sir,” Estelle said. She motioned for him to walk with her toward her car, parked inside the tape and farther down the street, well away from the sharp-eared neighbors. Page was wearing a yellow polo shirt, tan windbreaker, black trousers with a razor crease, and expensive running shoes. If he hadn’t taken time to change, a hard day at the office certainly didn’t show. As they walked, Page raised his arms, locking both hands behind his head as if he expected to be handcuffed at any moment.
“Have you talked with Kevin yet?”
“No, sir. We don’t know where he is.”
“Doesn’t his office-”
“No, sir.” They reached her county car and Estelle stopped, turning to stand by the back fender so she could watch both the street and the taped-off area. “How long have you known Kevin, Mr. Page?”
“William. I go by William,” he said quickly. “I guess I’ve known Kevin for three or four years.” He lowered his hands and thrust them in his back pockets. Estelle guessed him to be in his early thirties. Blond, tan, perfectly fit, William Page would have looked at home on the pages of a mail-order clothing catalog. All he needed was a perfectly groomed Irish setter sitting in the passenger seat of his Lexus.
“So you knew him before he was hired as county manager two years ago,” she said. No one had supposed that Zeigler would be able to fill the shoes of the previous manager, a twenty-eight-year veteran and Posadas legend who had dropped dead during an inspection tour of a recently completed wing of the Public Safety Building. “Where did you two meet? In Socorro?”
“Kevin used to work for the city,” Page said quickly. “I was doing a computer consulting job for them.” He shifted impatiently, glancing first at Zeigler’s house and then down the street.
“Ah.” Estelle nodded. “So when he moved down here, you’ve been able to break away and visit from time to time.” She watched Page’s face, but the only emotion she could read there was worry.
“Okay,” he said, ignoring the statement. He held out his hands a foot apart as if measuring something. “Look…you have to fill me in, Officer. I know these folks here,” and he nodded at the Acostas’ house. “They go ’round and around all the time. Always scrapping. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. So what happened this time?”
“One of their children was assaulted, Mr. Page.” He looked back at her quickly. “Carmen,” she added. “That’s the oldest girl. She’s fourteen.”
“Of course. I know her.”
Estelle nodded. “It appears that neither parent was home at the time. Her father claims that he was gone just for a short time, over the lunch hour. When he came home, he found Carmen.”
“Oh…,” Page said, and ducked his head, closing his eyes at the same time.
“Mr. Acosta says that when he left on an errand, Kevin’s county truck was not in that driveway. He says that it was parked there on his return. If you think about that, I’m sure you can understand our concern.”
“And you’ve had no word from Kevin? Nothing at all?”
“Not a thing. When was the last time you spoke with him, sir?”
“As I told you on the phone, it was early this morning. We usually chat once or twice a week. Sometimes more often.” He glanced quickly at Estelle, then looked away. “I usually come down early on Friday…sometimes even Thursday, if I can break away. I’ve been going back up to Socorro on Sunday night, sometimes Monday mornings.”
“When you talked with him last night, did he say anything about the neighbors? About the Acostas specifically?”
“No. He was talking about this deal with the village. He thought that was pretty exciting. He thought that it was going to be a real challenge to county resources.”
“And that’s it?”
Page shrugged. “He was thinking of getting a new car.” He nodded toward the truck and car parked beside the house. “I’ve been giving him a hard time about that old relic of his. He said he’d seen a Porsche Boxster he’d fallen in love with. He wanted me to go with him to Las Cruces this weekend to look at it.”
“And you were going to do that?”
He nodded. “Sure. Why not? We go there a lot.” He managed a feeble grin. “There’s not a whole lot to do in Posadas for entertainment. We go there, catch dinner, maybe a movie or two. We’ve got some other friends there, at the university.” He shook his head wearily and regarded the pavement at his feet.
“I’d like to ask that you go through the house again with me, sir,” Estelle said.
The weary expression deepened on Page’s face. “You’ve been in there already?”
“Yes, sir.”
He shrugged with resignation. “Sure. Why not.” He followed Estelle across the street. “You know, I tried Kevin’s cell number about every ten minutes on the way down,” he said. Keys jingled as he selected a house key. “I kept thinking, ‘Well, he’s just out somewhere, probably got called out for some county emergency.’ That happens all the time.” He thrust the key in the lock and turned it. “He never answered, Officer.”
“No, sir. I don’t imagine that he did.”
He stepped into the house, walked to the center of the living room, and turned in place, arms outspread. “This is it.”
“I’d like you to walk through each room, sir. Just walk through and look. Please don’t touch anything. I need to know if anything is out of place, if everything is as you remember it.”
Page shook his head, and as he started down the hallway toward the bedrooms, he shouted, “Kevin!” and then, in a small voice meant for his own ears only, William Page added, “God, Kevin, don’t do this to me.” Estelle kept back, letting Page search the house. He returned to the living room, face pale. “He’s not here.”
“I know that,” Estelle said gently.
“He can’t just disappear,” Page said plaintively. He turned in a circle. “He can’t just walk out in the morning and never return.”
“No one said he wasn’t going to return, Mr. Page.”
He turned and shot her a withering look. “Oh, please, Sheriff. There’s an assault next door. Either Kevin was here or he wasn’t. If he was here, he would have tried to stop it. That’s just the way he was. He would be involved from the get-go. If he tangled with somebody and won, he’d be here, sitting on the guy, waiting for the cops. So he’s either in a ditch somewhere, or…”
“Or what?”
“You think he assaulted Carmen?”
“I didn’t say that he did.”
“No, but that’s got to be a possibility in your mind, isn’t it? And then what’s he do, run away someplace? Is that what your little scenario has him doing? Leave everything behind-house, job, family-and run?” Estelle remained silent. “Kevin did not assault Carmen Acosta, Sheriff. I know that as surely as I know that I’m standing here right now.”
“Did he have any other vehicle, besides that little sports car?”
“No. He used the county truck. He hardly ever drove the Datsun. Whenever he did, something on it usually broke.”
“No motorbike? Not a fifth bike?”
Page jolted, as if the reminder that others had searched the house had sucked his breath away. “No. At least, not that I know of.” He sat down heavily on the sofa, then started to rise immediately, remembering Estelle’s request. She held up a hand.
“Relax, sir.”
He settled back. “Look, he could have walked somewhere,” he said.
“Yes, he could,” Estelle replied. “The county building is only five blocks from here. We have officers looking for him. His staff is looking for him.”
“Did you see him today? I mean, you said he left the meeting at noon?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“There were no hints then? I mean, he didn’t mention where he was going or anything?”
Estelle shook her head. “You understand our concern,” she said.