“Sounds like a real sweetheart,” said Reel sarcastically.
Fishbaugh looked at her. “This is a very tough place to live in. People like their independence, and they tend to rely on themselves and not the government. They join groups that represent what they believe in. Sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes it’s not, with the skinheads being a case in point. But if you want my critical opinion on Luke and Holly, it’s that they were two lost souls looking for something. And maybe they had found it in each other.”
“So why not get married and live happily ever after?” said Reel, shooting Robie a quick glance that he did not notice.
“Maybe that was their plan. But Luke could never do that while he was with the skinheads. They wouldn’t have allowed it. And I doubt Luke would have wanted Holly anywhere near those people. They are bad news.”
Robie said, “Maybe that’s why they came for him. Because he told them he was leaving the group so he could start a new life with Holly.”
Reel said, “That actually makes sense. Too bad we don’t know where either one is so we can ask them. The police let Luke go and he’s disappeared.”
“Did Holly have any other visitors?” asked Robie.
“Her sister, Valerie, on a regular basis. A couple of young women she knew. Her parole officer also visited regularly, of course. But Luke came more often than anyone else. Now, let me see if there were any others. We keep records of all of them.”
She turned to her computer and clicked some keys.
“Yes, there was another person.” She glanced at the name on the screen. “Roger Walton.”
Both Reel and Robie tensed.
“When did he come by?” asked Reel.
Fishbaugh clicked some more keys. “He came by only once.”
“When was that?”
“Five days ago.”
“So, shortly before he disappeared. Did you talk to him?”
“Briefly. He seemed to know this area well. When I asked him he said he had been born in eastern Colorado.”
“Did he say why he wanted to talk to Holly?” asked Robie.
“He said he was a friend and just wanted to see how she was doing. Holly voiced no objections to seeing him.”
“Were their conversations monitored?”
“Well, we had someone in the visitor’s room, because that’s part of our procedures, but we don’t record conversations, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did anyone else here have interactions with him?”
Fishbaugh thought about this for a few moments. “Probably the nurse on duty.” She clicked some keys. “Laura Boyd. She might have spoken with him.”
“Can we talk to her?” asked Reel.
“She’s on duty now. I can get her for you.”
They met with Boyd in an empty office. She was in her fifties with brown hair streaked with silver, a compact build, and alert green eyes.
“Brenda said this was about Holly Malloy?”
Robie nodded. “That’s right. She had a visitor, Roger Walton?”
“Yes. He came once recently. I escorted him back, and he and Holly spoke.”
“Did he talk to you at all?” asked Reel.
“We chitchatted while I walked him back and waited for Holly. He was an interesting man. Just from our brief conversation you could tell he was highly educated and had traveled extensively. I had mentioned wanting to take a trip to South Africa and he told me places to stay and things to do while I was there.”
“Did he ever say why he wanted to talk to Holly?” said Robie.
“He was a friend, I think he said. I can’t remember if he said he was her friend or a friend of a friend.”
“But let’s say he was a friend of a friend,” said Robie. “Why would Holly have agreed to talk to him if she didn’t know him personally?”
“Oh, I see what you mean. He would have had to say what the connection was, or else why would Holly want to see him?”
“Right,” said Robie.
“Well, come to think of it, he did say he was a friend of a friend.”
“And did he name the friend?” asked Reel.
“Just give me a second, it’ll come to me.”
They watched as she thought it over.
“That’s right, I remember now. He said that he and Holly had a mutual friend. When I told Holly the name she said that she’d meet with Walton.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” said Reel sharply.
“His name was JC Parry.”
CHAPTER
22
“We should have known that from the start,” said Robie angrily as they drove back to Grand.
“Known what?” asked Reel.
“That there was something fishy with this Parry guy.”
“Why?”
“Because he told Malloy that he was at Blue Man’s cabin to act as a guide when he found him missing.”
It took Reel a second to get his meaning. “And at least two people have told us that Blue Man didn’t need a guide because he knew the area so well.”
“And Zeke Donovan was one of them, and since he’s a guide you’d think he’d know. That’s the inconsistency I was talking about before. So why did Parry lie about being Blue Man’s guide and why did he want him to visit Holly Malloy.”
“We need to find Parry and ask him.”
Robie picked up his phone and called Malloy. “We need to talk to JC Parry. Where does he live?”
“But did you find out anything at the rehab facility?”
“Can you just give me the address?”
She did so and Robie clicked off.
Reel looked at him. “I sense you want to wall off the good sheriff from our investigation.”
“Right now, I want to wall off everyone except you and me. Things are way too convoluted to know whom to trust.”
“Let’s hope that Parry can enlighten us. But I doubt we can trust him, either. Why do you think he was at Blue Man’s cabin?”
“Maybe to check on him.”
“So if he discovered that Blue Man had gone missing?” said Reel.
“He’s going to be scared for himself.”
They reached Parry’s home about forty-five minutes later. It was, like all the homes around there, isolated and hard to get to.
As they cleared a slight rise in the ground the house came into view. It looked like it had been built from odds and ends and scraps of secondhand wood. There were several outbuildings, some chickens clucking behind fencing, and they were greeted by a mutt of a dog that came out from a crevice underneath the front porch.
A dusty pickup truck sat under a lean-to.
Robie put the Yukon in park and they climbed out.
The dog started to growl menacingly.
Robie put a hand on his gun but Reel dropped to one knee and beckoned the dog to her. It approached cautiously, and then, sensing that Reel was showing neither aggression nor fear, it ambled over and let her scratch its ear and stroke its head.
“What’s your name, cutie? Huh? Does that feel good?”
Robie watched in amazement as arguably the most lethal person of his acquaintance gently made friends with the beast.
She stroked its flanks and looked at its muzzle.
Then she looked up at Robie. “This dog hasn’t eaten in a while, Robie. You see its ribs showing. And you see how it’s swallowing and panting like that? No water.”
She looked around, spotted a dog bowl next to an outdoor tap, and filled the bowl up and put it down for the dog, which instantly started gulping water. Reel picked the bowl up before the dog was finished. “Don’t want it to get sick. We need to find its food.”
“We need to find JC Parry,” he reminded her.
“That’s sort of my point. The dog’s fur is well maintained and it otherwise looks healthy. I don’t think Parry is the sort to mistreat animals. He’s got water bowls for it and you see that dog bed over on the porch.”