End Game

CHAPTER 9

The dirt road to Blue Man’s cabin snaked upward, with switchbacks and narrow straightaways intersected with hairpin curves making up most of the journey. Though the elevation wasn’t that great, the sun seemed more intense and the air thin enough to be noticeable to your lungs.

They finally pulled to a stop in front of a rustic cabin about nine hundred square feet in total. It had weathered cedar siding, a planked front porch with an overhang, a shingled roof, a stone chimney, one front door, one rear door, and four windows all on one floor.

A dark blue Chevy Colorado pickup truck was parked in front.

Robie and Reel had followed Malloy’s Mustang. Bender had ridden shotgun with his superior.

They all got out and congregated in front of the cabin.

Reel and Robie took in the surroundings, each gazing at angles and flanks from where trouble could have come. There weren’t many of them. As Malloy had said, this was the only road up here.

“Any other people living around here?” asked Robie.

Malloy shook her head. “Just this cabin.”

“Who owns it?” asked Reel.

“Roark Lambert. He lives in Denver. He owns about a dozen cabins and houses around here. Rents ’em out to tourists.”

“All fishing?” asked Reel.

Bender answered. “No. Some are here to photograph wildlife. Others to hunt wildlife. Some come to just get away. Go hiking, camping. Smoke pot without being hassled.”

“I take it the house and truck have been searched?” said Robie.

Malloy nodded. “Didn’t find much of anything. But we can take another look. You might notice something we missed.”

Reel looked at the truck. “Colorado? Seems appropriate.”

“Nice set of wheels,” said Bender. “You got rear seats plus the truck bed. Pretty popular here. Can handle the terrain real well.”

Malloy pulled out the truck keys. “We found these in the cabin.” She popped the locks and opened the driver’s-side door. “We swept it for prints and other forensic residue. Came up empty. State police did, too.”

It didn’t take long to search the truck. It was pretty much empty of anything.

There was a Georgetown Hoyas ball cap on the rear seat.

Bender said, “I thought he went off to Stanford. That’s what my mom told me.”

“He had multiple degrees,” said Reel, picking up the cap. “Georgetown was where he got his master’s.”

“Good school,” said Malloy. “In Washington, DC. You never did mention what Mr. Walton did for a living.”

Bender stared at his boss for a second before looking at Robie.

“No, I never did,” said Robie. “Ready to hit the house?”

Malloy lifted the yellow police tape stretched across the front door and unlocked a police padlock that had been installed there.

“We don’t have the manpower to station someone here twenty-four seven,” explained Malloy. “We do the best we can.”

“Who reported him missing?” asked Reel.

“He’d hired JC Parry, a local guide,” said Malloy. “JC said they were supposed to meet here at six in the morning. JC drove here to pick up Walton. The Colorado was here but no Walton. The front door was unlocked. JC went in, and when there was no sign of Walton, he called us in.”

“I thought you had to wait for a certain period of time before someone could call in a missing persons report,” said Robie.

“That’s true under normal circumstances. But the man’s truck was still here. He couldn’t walk down to town. The truck started up just fine, so there were no problems with it. The cabin was empty, and Walton wasn’t here for his appointment with JC. We searched all around the cabin and even went down to the stream where he fished, even though his pole and tackle and the rest of his fishing gear were in the cabin. We found zip. We looked at all the places he might have fallen or gotten into trouble. There aren’t too many of them. Nothing.”

“Any animals up here that could be the cause?” asked Reel. “Bear, mountain lions?”

Bender said, “Mountain lions very rarely go after an adult. Same for coyotes, lynx, and bobcats. Now, we got bears. Black bears. But unless you get between a momma and its cubs or surprise it, you ain’t going to have problems with them. Now some people claim we still got grizzlies in Colorado, but I ain’t never seen one. And I don’t know anybody who has.”

Malloy added, “And an animal attack would have left traces. There were none.”

Reel pointed to the cabin. “Then let’s see what we can find inside here.”

The cabin had only three rooms. An open front space that held the kitchen and a sitting area in front of the stone fireplace, a bathroom, and a single bedroom. They found Blue Man’s luggage, clothes on hangers in the bedroom closet, a toiletry bag in the bathroom, and some food and drinks in the fridge. His fishing gear was neatly stacked on a side table in the front room.

“Bed was slept in,” said Malloy, pointing to the covers in disarray. “Don’t know if he went off in his pajamas or some other clothes. We did find a gun. Glock ten-mil. It hadn’t been fired. It was in the nightstand next to the bed. We bagged and tagged it as evidence. It’s back at the station.” She looked at both Robie and Reel to see if they wanted to comment on this news.

Robie said, “How about his phone? Laptop?”

“We didn’t find either. And we couldn’t find his phone number, so we couldn’t check to see if the phone is on. We can trace it that way, unless someone’s taken out the chip.”

“It’s not on,” answered Reel.

“So you already checked on that?” said Malloy. Her voice held a bit of an accusatory tone.

“Yes,” said Reel, as she glanced around the room. “So the state police were called in?”

“And then the FBI, in case it was a kidnapping. Funny, when the Feds were called in, that’s when we heard from some folks in DC. Maybe your folks.”

“Nothing funny about it,” replied Robie, though he didn’t elaborate. “No sightings? No other strangers around here?”

“Not that we could connect to Mr. Walton,” said Malloy.

“So he just vanished,” said Reel. “From a place this isolated. Unless he went somewhere on his own, we have to assume that someone came and took him away.” She looked at Malloy. “Any ideas on that? You have any criminal elements around here?”

“Every place in America has criminal elements.”

“You have any that are unique or obvious?”

She glanced at Bender before answering. “This place is isolated. Some folks like that isolation for good reasons, you know, get off the beaten path, off the grid.”

“And other folks?” asked Robie.

Bender said, “They come here because they can more or less do what they want. I don’t mean break the law necessarily, you know, but live their lives how they want.”

“What exactly does that mean?” asked Reel.

Malloy said, “That means they can build communities with like-minded people.”

“And what sort of communities would those be?” asked Reel.

“Most are innocuous. Some not so much.”

Robie said, “Care to elaborate?”

“I’m talking about people who don’t want to live in the mainstream. They have their own rules, don’t get in trouble, and they keep to themselves,” said Malloy.

“I’m more interested in the ones that don’t keep to themselves, that get in trouble and maybe kidnap people,” said Reel.

Bender shot a glance at Malloy.

She said quietly, “I can’t say we don’t have any of those.”