“Like I told you before, Agent Reel, we don’t have the manpower for that,” retorted Malloy. “And the door is still locked.” She knelt down and studied the footprints. “They look familiar.”
“You know people by their shoes?” quipped Reel.
“Some of them, yes,” said Malloy, rising to her feet.
“So any idea who those belong to?” asked Robie.
“Working on it,” she said evasively, a worried look on her face.
“Can you get this open?” Reel said, pointing at the door.
Malloy unlocked the padlock and opened the door.
Reel passed by her and went inside.
When Robie started to follow Malloy gripped his arm.
“I want to see you again,” she said.
Robie shook his head. “Valerie, last night was a big mistake.”
“Not for me it wasn’t,” she said sharply, as Robie kept shaking his head. “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it?”
“That’s not the point. It was a mistake. We’re both working a case. We can’t be personally involved.”
She ran her hand down his arm and smiled. “I think that boat has sailed. We nearly broke the bed.”
Robie was about to say something else when the front door swung open, revealing Reel.
“Are you coming?” she demanded, looking at each of them in turn.
Robie brushed past her on the way into the house.
Reel looked at Malloy. “What were you two doing out here?”
“Just talking shop.”
“Right,” replied Reel. She moved aside to let Malloy pass.
Inside, Robie was already looking around.
“You think Walton left something behind to help us find him?” said Malloy.
“That’s the only reason we’re here,” replied Reel curtly.
The place was small enough that the search didn’t take long. They regrouped in the front room.
Reel said, “We know his cell phone was missing, but it’s been turned off or else it went dead, because it couldn’t be tracked.”
“Laptop?” asked Malloy. “There wasn’t one found. I told you that before but you didn’t comment on it.”
“It’s not been confirmed, but I doubt if he would have taken one with him,” said Robie. “He wasn’t working and he could be reached if need be, so having a computer was just something that could be lost or stolen.”
“And I bet there are strict rules about that in whatever agency you work for,” noted Malloy, gazing inquiringly at Robie.
“All federal agencies have strict rules about that,” interjected Reel. “Even the Department of Agriculture.”
“Okay, so where does that leave us?” asked Malloy. “We didn’t find a clue that I could see.”
Robie was looking at the fly-fishing tackle that was still lying on the table by the door. He picked up the rod and looked at it. “We messed up before about JC Parry. Walton didn’t need a guide because he knew the rivers here well.”
“Right, so?” said Malloy.
“So maybe we messed up about something else,” opined Reel, staring at Robie. “Maybe we didn’t see something else that’s staring us in the face.”
Malloy gazed around the room. “There’s not much here. I mean he didn’t leave much behind. His clothes and toiletries. His Glock ten-mil. Georgetown cap in the truck. His fishing gear.”
“You said the Glock was taken in as evidence?” said Robie quickly.
“Yeah, I told you that when we came out here the first time.”
“Where is it?”
“In our evidence room back at the station.”
“Robie, what is it?” asked Reel.
He looked at her. “Someone I know once communicated something really important using a gun. I mean literally using the weapon to convey a really important message as to the person’s location.”
Reel flinched as though she’d been slapped. That person had been her.
Malloy looked between them. “Who the hell are you talking about?”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Reel quickly.
Robie said, “And it worked. It allowed me to find the person.”
Reel said, “And did you tell Blu… Walton?”
“I did. He was quite impressed with the method. I’m sure he docketed it away like he did every other piece of information he ever received.”
“Until maybe he needed to pull it out and use it,” said Reel.
“Let’s go find out,” said Robie.
CHAPTER
44
Piece by piece.
Both Reel and Robie had taken turns field-stripping the Glock. Fully assembled, it now lay on a cloth on Malloy’s desk.
The three of them were staring down at it. They had found nothing of interest. No additions had been made. No deletions, either.
As they were standing there, Derrick Bender walked in and slapped his hat against his pants leg to knock off some dust.
“Who died?” he said jokingly, staring at their very serious faces.
Then he blanched when none of them cracked a smile. “Shit, don’t tell me somebody did die?”
Malloy shook her head. “No, we were just hoping that this gun would give us a clue as to what happened to Mr. Walton.”
Bender drew next to the desk and looked down at the Glock. “I’m not following. Why would it?”
“Just a long shot,” said Reel.
“Well, that gun won’t be any good for a long shot,” said Bender, grinning. “Barrel’s too short.”
“Shit,” said Reel.
“What?” snapped Robie.
In answer Reel hit the Glock’s mag release and put the mag aside. Then she made sure the chamber was empty.
“You got a gun-cleaning kit around here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Bender. He hurried over to a cabinet, opened the doors, and pulled out a box with a handle. He brought it over and gave it to Reel.
She opened it, found what she wanted, and took out the long, thin piece of metal.
“A bore brush?” said Robie.
She nodded and inserted it into the Glock’s barrel. She moved it slowly and carefully into the barrel, then twisted the rod clockwise and counterclockwise before slowly pulling it free.
“What’s that?” said Bender.
A bit of white had emerged at the muzzle.
Reel said, “You got tweezers?”
Malloy opened her desk drawer, rummaged around, and pulled out a tiny pair.
“Will this work?” she asked, handing them to Reel.
Reel gripped the tweezers and eased the ends onto the edge of white. She slowly pulled, and the white was revealed to be a piece of paper rolled up.
“Damn,” exclaimed Bender. “How’d you think to look there?”
“When you said the barrel was too short for a long shot,” replied Reel. “Thanks for the suggestion.”
Bender grinned and squeezed Reel’s shoulder. Reel patted his hand in return.
Robie observed this and once more felt the hair on his neck fire up. But then he glanced at Malloy and his anger quickly subsided.
Reel slowly unrolled the paper.
“Is anything written on it?” asked Malloy.
“No,” said Reel, looking disappointed. “Just this.”
She held up the paper for all to see.
It was a stick figure holding what looked to be a ball over its head.
“Anybody have a guess?” said Reel. “Walton obviously wasn’t much of an artist.”
“If he had an opportunity to put that in the gun for us to maybe find, why not just write out what he wanted to tell us,” said Malloy.
“Maybe he didn’t know enough to write it out. And it might have been discovered by someone else that he didn’t want to let on about what he knew.”
“So it’s like a code?” said Bender.