Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Wolf turned off the highway and into the gas station, the morning sun glinting off his side-view mirror as he pulled up to the gas pump.

Filling the SUV, he contemplated grabbing another convenience store breakfast or waiting until he reached Steamboat Springs, where he could stop at a diner. The latter sounded better, but he was determined to make good time back to Rocky Points. After Piper’s one-line cryptic message, he still hadn’t spoken to her, and he didn’t plan on doing so either, not over the phone, at least. He needed to see her in person, to see her face as he explained himself.

He decided enjoying a sit-down meal was out of the question.

He stretched his arms overhead, turning side to side, feeling little pain in his back. The Lamb’s ancient bed had apparent healing powers. He’d slept like a rock, moved little, and woke up refreshed.

After filling the tank, he hung the hose and walked inside to use the restroom, then scoped the interior for something he could pass off as a meal.

Settling on a twenty-ounce coffee and some powdered donuts, he walked back to his SUV, vowing to think about health again once he got home.

Sipping his coffee, he took a moment to look at the shiny green landscape, lush with vegetation from the spring rains and creased with early morning shadows.

An older Toyota Tacoma pulled in off the highway from the south, halting at the island on the opposite side. A man climbed out and started filling his tank.

Wolf recognized him immediately as Mitch Russell.

Mitch slid his card into the machine, cursing as he poked his finger once, twice, and then a third time. Shaking his head, he inserted the nozzle into his tank and stared at the side of his truck, hands shoved in his pockets.

“How’s it going, Mitch?” Wolf asked.

Mitch looked up with a start. He stared at Wolf for a moment as if trying to place the face and then said, “Oh, hey. It’s you.”

“Beautiful morning, eh?”

“Oh.” Mitch straightened. He looked around. Nodded. “Yeah.”

Wolf sipped his coffee. Mitch stared at the gas hose.

The interior of the truck was empty. Still no little girl named Savannah. Dolores had said they were south, down in Craig at Mitch’s sister’s place, the afternoon before. Wolf wondered if Mitch had heard about his gaffe of blocking the kitchen door and making his mother drop all that food.

Mitch stopped the pump and hung the hose again. It couldn’t have filled more than a couple of gallons. He kept his head down and walked back to his truck, ignoring the receipt that spit out of the pump.

The man was an enigma. Even without the two bikers that had been looming in the diner, he was still trying to get away from Wolf without speaking.

Wolf removed the slip of paper from the pump and walked after him. “Hey, here you go. You forgot your receipt.”

Mitch turned. “Oh. Thanks.”

“I see you were coming in from the south,” Wolf said. “Your mother said you were down in Craig yesterday.”

“Oh…yeah…” Mitch thumbed over his shoulder as he opened his door. “I work down there sometimes.”

“Where at? Another diner?”

“Uh, no. I work for a…natural gas extraction company.” He sat down behind the wheel.

There had been a pause in his sentence, and Wolf got the sense he was lying.

“On a Friday night? Like…a night shift or something?”

Mitch nodded. “Yeah. It’s a late-day shift into the night. Then I just end up staying down there. Sucks.” He reached to pull the door shut. “But whatcha gonna do? It’s good money. Anyway. You have a good one.”

“Where do you stay?” Wolf asked.

“They have dorms there.”

No mention of his sister living in Craig. Either he was lying, or Dolores had been.

“Oh. Okay,” Wolf said. “Where’s Savannah?”

“Savannah?” Mitch said and pointed. “She’s up with her grandma.”

“In Doyle?”

“Yeah. ”

Wolf stared at him.

“See you later,” Mitch said, shutting the door. He turned the engine on and drove away, not giving Wolf another glance as he turned onto the highway and headed north toward Doyle.

Wolf stared after the truck as it shrank in the distance. If Savannah Russell was not with her father and not with her grandma, then where the hell was she?

Suddenly, an idea came to mind. And things started making more sense about what might be going on with Dolores and Mitch and why talking with cops was the last thing they wanted to do.

He got back in his truck, swung out onto the highway, and headed north; the accelerator pressed to the floor.