End Game (Will Robie #5)(60)

“So did he take the suitcase with him when he left here?” he asked.

“Well, no, come to think. It’s still in the closet in my bedroom.”

“Can we see it?” asked Reel.

She led them back to a bedroom that, if anything, was more of a mess than the front room. She opened a closet door and pulled out a suitcase. “I haven’t even opened the damn thing, I was so pissed.”

“When exactly did he leave?” asked Robie.

“Let’s see. I guess, yeah, it was over a week ago because I had just got home from a party I worked at over in Denver. I do private bartending and in-home casino work on the side. You know, pretend casino where you don’t play with real money. Some rich asshole’s birthday party. Paid me more to pour drinks and work a craps table in one night than I make waitressing in a week. Anyway, I’d called Clém and we were supposed to go out and get drinks and something to eat at this little place down the road called the Gold Coast. Don’t know where they got that name. Sure as hell ain’t no coast around here and no damn gold. He said that’d be cool. So when I got home I expected him to be here. Only he wasn’t. I called and left voice mails. I texted and e-mailed and got zip. No Clém.”

“We understand he had a vehicle?”

“A beat-to-shit Datsun pickup. That was gone too. I just figured he left his crap here because he didn’t want to be bothered taking it with him. Then I quit caring. I just thought he got strung out again or something.”

“But you said you talked to him that night, before you came home. Not enough time to get strung out, surely?” said Reel.

“With Clém and meth it only took one pop for him to be totally effed up.”

“So one more time, Ms. Drango, did Lamarre tell you about seeing prisoners?”

She sighed and nodded. “Okay, look, it was before he went into rehab. He got home from work real late one night. I was just getting in bed after soaking my feet, which were swollen like watermelons from being on ’em all day. He walked into the bedroom looking like he’d seen a ghost.”

“What did he say he’d seen?”

“A van pulled up to the store to get some gas. He said a dude got out but he had trouble with the pump. The reader thing wasn’t recognizing the credit card or some such. Happens at the restaurant where I work, too. Anyway, there’s a button you can press for assistance. So Clém came out of the cage behind the counter and went outside. He went armed, he said, because folks have tried to trick him before to get him out of the cage. But this guy was legit. The reader was screwed up.”

“Okay,” said Robie. “Then what?”

“So Clém is fiddling with the reader, trying to see what the problem was. While he was doing that the guy opens the driver’s-side door to get something out. Clém said he saw a holstered weapon on the guy’s belt when his jacket rode up. And the interior light comes on when the door opens. That’s when Clém saw it.”

“Saw what exactly?” asked Reel.

“In the rearview mirror. Clém said it was one of those panoramic ones. It showed into the back of the van. He said there were like six people back there shackled and hooded. They were alive, because he saw two of them move around a bit. A guy was guarding them.”

“What did Clém do then?”

“Look, he’s no hero, okay? Now, if somebody was coming after him or me, even Clém would fight you. But this wasn’t his fight. He had no idea who those people were. When the guy got back out of the truck, Clém told him the reader wouldn’t work but they could take cash. So the guy paid in cash, filled up his tank, and that was that. He drove off.”

“And why didn’t Lamarre call the cops?”

“Hell, I don’t know. He said he’d half-convinced himself he’d imagined it all. Or that maybe the guys with guns were cops and the people in the back were prisoners. Maybe, you know terrorists. They use hoods on ’em. I seen pictures of them assholes at Gitmo.”

“Gitmo is a long way from here,” noted Robie.

“Hey, I don’t know what to tell you. So he didn’t call the cops. But I guess it kept bugging him. But why would he disappear? They didn’t know he’d seen anything. If they did, wouldn’t they’ve just shot him right there?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Robie. “He didn’t get a license plate number or anything?”

“If he did he didn’t tell me. It was a white panel van. He did say it had Colorado plates.”

“Well, that narrows it down to a few hundred thousand,” said Reel sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”

“We’re going to take the suitcase,” said Robie. “Anything else here of his?”

Drango looked around. “I don’t think so.”

“Did he have a phone or laptop?”

“He had a phone because I told you I called it. He didn’t have no laptop.”

“Okay, thanks. One last thing. Have you told anyone about what Lamarre told you?”

She hesitated. “No, not that I can remember. I mean, I thought it was horseshit, so why would I have?”

They left her standing by the front door looking as lost as the woman on the tattoo.