End Game (Will Robie #5)(77)

“I thought you wanted to find this guy,” said Malloy.

“We do,” said Robie.

“Then it seems to me that you would use any tool at your disposal. I can be one of those tools.”

Robie looked at Reel. She looked back at him with an expression akin to a fist coming right at him.

He turned back to Malloy and said, “We’re going to search Walton’s cabin again. If you want to follow us up there, fine.”

He took his seat in the truck and started it up.

Reel slowly turned to look at Malloy.

“Just so we’re clear—you die, it’s not my responsibility.” Then she climbed into the truck next to Robie.

Robie waited for Malloy to get in her cruiser and then pulled off down the road. They had driven for about five minutes before Reel broke the silence.

“You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Robie didn’t look at her. “She’s local law enforcement. She could be useful. And her sister’s dead and we know it but she doesn’t. I feel sorry for her.”

“Feeling sorry for her does not justify letting her screw up our search for Blue Man.”

“She’s not going to screw it up. She’s a trained professional.”

“So you’re really not going to tell me what’s going on?” said Reel.

“There is nothing going on!” barked Robie.

Reel turned to look out the windshield.

When Robie glanced over at her a few moments later, he did not like what he saw.

They drove on.

*

“Someone’s been here,” said Reel.

They were standing outside of Blue Man’s cabin. The door was still padlocked and the police tape was still up but there were fresh muddy boot prints on the porch. It had rained some the previous night.

Reel glanced at Malloy, who was looking at the prints. “I thought this was a crime scene. Shouldn’t it have been secured?”

“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.”