CHAPTER SIX

In an ironic sense, Michael's silence on the flight was a good thing. Not because it gave Faith time to think but because the pain his anger caused her motivated her to focus on the case so she wouldn't have to dwell on his hatred of her.

Maybe hatred was too strong a word. He certainly didn't hate her the way she hated Franklin West.

What the right word might be, Faith didn't know. She just knew that she felt like everyone else wished she would just go away.

I want you to look around and see nothing but the shattered remnants of your life, and only when all that is left is ash and splinters do I want you to admit defeat.

Faith would never admit defeat. As long as West lived free, she would have a reason to live.

But that didn't mean that her world wouldn't burn to the ground around her in the process. She would get West eventually, she knew that. But how much of her life would be left by the time she finally did?

The rumble of the first few seconds on the runway after landing felt profoundly reassuring, and Faith even felt the familiar thrill she always felt at the outset of a case. It was good to know that for now, at least, some of who she used to be remained.

This case seemed more irritating than interesting, though, although anything other than chasing after West would make her feel that way. The truth was there might be no case at all. There were two missing persons, and there was no link between them. In fact, if it weren't for the recently escaped convict in the area, chances are this case would never have reached the FBI.

Faith didn't mind, though. Typically, missing persons cases were resolved to be nothing more than unannounced travel, a flight of fancy, or a spontaneous decision to abandon one backyard in favor of one that appeared greener. With any luck, the resolution would come quickly, and she and Michael could get to work on a real case.

The real case.

Perhaps she was only dreaming to think that she could convince Michael to help her find West, but it was a somewhat more lucid dream than her attempt to convince the Boss to assign her the case officially. West, after all, was Michael's fiancée's ex-husband.

Wife. His wife's ex-husband.

Her lips thinned a little at the reminder that he hadn't told her about their marriage. She pushed her irritation away quickly, however. The point was that Michael had a personal reason to want West apprehended as fast as possible. She could use that to convince him to join her. With the two of them working together, she had no doubt that they would catch West in short order.

If Michael answered his phone.

The airstair door opened, and Faith pushed those thoughts to the background of her mind and followed Michael from the plane.

They disembarked from the small FBI jet, and a man in a cheap suit met them a few yards from the plane. "Detective Charlie Jones," he said with a nod. He had a scruffy look to him, one she'd seen countless times before on the faces of people with twenty to twenty-five years on the job. Law enforcement agents who didn't explode into a supernova or condense into a black hole of depression and alcoholism or some other substance abuse settled into a dim white dwarf, continuing in a state of mediocrity until they reached retirement. Then they fell into depression and alcoholism.

That didn't necessarily mean they weren't good detectives.

"Good afternoon, detective," Michael said. "I'm Special Agent Michael Prince. This is my partner, Special Agent Faith Bold and our K9 unit, Turk."

Turk barked formally. Jones nodded equally formally. "Pleased to meet you." He looked at Faith and said, "I heard about you. You're the woman who caught that creep who was poisoning people on the subway."

The Vampire of the Twin Cities Terminal was one of Faith's more memorable cases. She and Michael had investigated a series of murders where the victims were poisoned with an industrial solvent and staged so that their bodies were hidden in plain sight, an attempt by the killer to illustrate how little humanity cared about each other.

"That's me," Faith said. "Us. Me, Prince and Turk."

Jones nodded. "Well, we're happy to have you."

Faith lifted an eyebrow. "We?"

Jones hooked a thumb at the two waiting cars. Four uniformed officers and a man of similar age and appearance to Jones but wearing a much nicer suit stood in front of one of them.

Detective Jones led them toward the waiting men. He didn't introduce the officers but gestured to the man in the nice suit. "This is Matt Kinzel. He's a U.S. Marshal who works out of the Boulder office."

"You're here because of the fugitive," Faith said.

"Yes," Kinzel replied. "Ferris Tooley. We got reports about break-ins at four locations between where he escaped and here."

"You think this guy is involved with the missing persons?" Faith asked.

Kinzel said, "He was in for kidnapping."

"Excuse me, marshal," Michael said, a slight edge to his voice. "I'm afraid I was called to this case rather abruptly, and I didn't have time to review any of the details. Could you please enlighten me about the missing persons and the kidnapping?"

Kinzel lifted an eye at the two agents, and Faith felt heat creep up her neck. First impressions were key, and Faith and Michael had just given the impression that they were unprepared and disorganized.

"Two people have gone missing in the mountains behind Granger," Kinzel replied. "Tyler Stone and Clara Montpelier. No connection between the victims that we can find. They were both last seen near the area of the construction site."

"Construction site?" Faith asked.

"Norwesco's building a distribution center just outside of town," Jones explained. "They broke ground a few weeks ago."

Northwest Shipping Company was the largest freight company in the Western United States. Faith wasn't sure why they'd build a distribution center in a small town on the foothills of the Rockies, but she wasn't a businesswoman. It didn't really matter anyway. What mattered was the missing persons.

"Do you have Tooley's cell?" Michael asked. "Maybe he got stupid and texted someone his plan like he did last time."

Faith recalled the Tooley case now. He had tried to kidnap the daughter of a state senator for ransom, but thanks to texts recovered from an associate's phone, they were able to locate and arrest him.

"It's on its way from Florence," Kinzel replied.

"Florence?" Faith asked. "The supermax." The United States Penitentiary Florence was what was known as an administrative maximum prison, the only facility of its kind that remained. That the government allowed people to know about anyway.

Kinzel nodded. "The senator whose daughter he kidnapped was a member of the Senate Judiciary Committee."

"Ah."

"Fool around and find out," Jones interjected.

Kinzel nodded. "He was on his way to court. The prison staff didn't notify the Marshals Office, so it was just a corrections officer driving the van. They stopped for gas, and when the officer got back in to drive, the prisoner was gone."

The story didn't make much sense, and she imagined it was a whitewashed version of events that put the Marshals in the best possible light. She didn't challenge him, though.

"Do these victims fit Tooley's MO?" Michael asked.

Kinzel was silent.

"There's our answer," Faith said.

Kinzel said, "But he's desperate, and his kidnapping MO is to take victims as leverage."

Ultimately, the marshals had managed to get help from the FBI to catch their fugitive. That was all this amounted to, but Faith couldn't really moan about it since five dozen marshals were currently helping the FBI look for West.

"So this is a manhunt," Michael said.

"The Marshals Office will be handling the manhunt," Kinzel informed them. "We would appreciate it if you two—" he glanced at Turk "—you three, would lead the search for the victims."

"We can do that," Faith said.

"Wonderful," Kinzel replied. "I'll be borrowing Mr. Jones—"

"Detective Jones—" Jones corrected.

Kinzel's lips thinned slightly as he regarded the slovenly detective. "Detective Jones… for a while. However, if you need anything, I am sure the Granger Police Department will be happy to assist. As soon as I no longer require Detective Jones, he will be at your disposal."

Jones smiled slightly at Kinzel's patronizing tone, but there was more humor than irritation in his smile, another sure sign that he had settled into a holding pattern he intended to fly until he earned his pension.

"Thank you," Faith said. "We'll keep you posted."

***

"I understand," Michael said.

Faith tried to give the couple a reassuring smile. Michael absolutely understood. Mrs. Stone was worried for her son's safety and trying desperately not to let on that her son was a failure to launch. Her husband was trying not to say, admit, or face that his son was a disappointment to him.

It was interesting to Faith how much appearances mattered, even during matters of life and death.

"Tyler was going to get a job at the new distribution center," Mr. Stone said, "and he was excited about the future. He wouldn't just pack up and leave."

He spoke with more emphasis than necessary, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. Nobody had asked yet if he might go on a trip or leave the area. Faith had a feeling that Mr. Stone suspected that Tyler had just jumped ship rather than make that last leap into adulthood.

"Can you tell me what Tyler likes to do?" she asked.

Mr. Stone spoke up first. "Tyler loves hiking in the mountains and exploring. He likes those video games. He used to go out with his friends, but they're all moved away now with jobs and families and everything."

"Anything illegal?" Faith asked.

Mr. Stone frowned. "Why would you ask that?"

Faith pondered how to phrase the answer, but Michael took care of it.

"Oftentimes, underemployed young people will seek alternative means of employment," Michael said, "up to and including illicit means. If Tyler was involved in such activities, it's possible that he may have associates who could provide information on his whereabouts."

"Oh, no," Mrs. Stone said. "He wasn't involved in anything illegal. Our sun is not a criminal."

Said the mother of every criminal that ever lived, Faith thought. "So he never engaged in any illicit behavior."

"Well, nothing serious," Mrs. Stone demurred. "Just some harmless fun."

"Harmless fun?" Faith asked.

"You know," Mr. Stone replied, "what kids do. Dares and stuff. Break a mailbox. Sneak into someone's backyard, drink some beer from their cooler. That kind of thing."

"He did that with his friends," Mr. Stone insisted. "When he was much younger. Our son is many things, but he is not foolish enough to get involved with drug dealers or thieves or any other kind of criminal element."

"When was the last time you spoke to Tyler?" Michael asked.

"I sent him money last month," Mrs. Stone said, avoiding eye contact with her husband when she did. He frowned slightly but said nothing. "He was doing fine. He wanted to get clothes so he would look good when he interviewed for the job."

Faith nodded. "And he seemed happy, excited for the future?"

The woman nodded, and Faith said, "Excuse us, please. Can I bring you some water or some coffee?" Both of them shook their heads. "Very well," Faith said. "We'll be back in a moment."

She and Michael walked from the room, and she said, "Without Tooley, this is just a case of someone lost in the woods."

He nodded. "I'll be anything it's the same with Ms. Montpelier. They'd have people doing a sweep of the forests."

"They just want Bureau resources behind the search for this guy." Faith said.

"Well, can you blame them?" Michael asked.

"No," she said, "I'm just saying."

Michael sighed. "Well, chances are we'll have this wrapped up in a few days. One way or another."

Faith could hear the frustration in his voice. "Thank you," she said. "For coming. I know it was hard—"

"Just…" Michael waved his hand like he was shooing her away. "Just don't, Faith. Let's focus on the case and get back home, okay?"

Faith lowered her eyes and nodded.

"Should we grab a coffee from the break room so it looks like we stepped outside for a reason?" Michael asked.

Faith nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

They were at the Granger Police Station. The only Granger Police Station. Faith and Michael had twice been assigned to rural locales, first in Morgan County, Missouri, then, in their last case, western Iowa, but Granger, Idaho was by far the most isolated locale Faith had ever been to. The town itself boasted a population of one hundred twenty-nine, spread out over three and a half square miles of reasonably flat and thinly forested land right off of US 95 and just west of the Rocky Mountains. The police station had seven rooms. Two of them were bathrooms, and one was a break room. Aside from a conference room, the lobby and a single jail cell, there was the interrogation room that Faith and Michael were now using to question the parents of Tyler Stone, twenty-nine.

They got their coffee and headed back to the interrogation room. Mr. and Mrs. Stone happily answered the usual slew of questions to the best of their ability, telling the agents absolutely nothing helpful. Apparently, Tyler enjoyed playing video games and hiking. His only friends lived hundreds of miles away, and he didn't associate with anyone in town. It was looking an awful lot like a tragic accident rather than a criminal disappearance.

Trevor Hart was of little more help at first. Carla Montpelier's boyfriend was able to provide an ironclad alibi for the day of Carla's disappearance—he was working at the local market—and Carla, like Tyler, was an avid hiker. She was a very experienced hiker and spelunker and would often go on spontaneous solo trips into the woods.

"So why is this one different?" Faith asked him.

"She always calls," he said. "She has a satellite phone, and she always calls to let me know she's safe. She's called me every night she's been out before. It's been three nights now, and nothing."

Michael and Faith shared a look. "When was the last time you spoke with her?"

"The day she left. We…" his lower lip trembled. "We had a fight. She said she needed some time to be by herself, so she left. I keep thinking if we hadn't fought, if I had just given in, maybe she wouldn't have gone out, and maybe she wouldn't be…" his lip trembled again. "She's all right, right? I mean, you don't think she's…"

For the second time, he couldn't bring himself to say the word. Neither could Faith. "We haven't lost hope," she said, "and neither should you."

He brightened a little at that, and Faith had the sickening feeling that she had just lifted him up to drop him down even harder.

Michael ended up being the one to find the lead. "You said she was a spelunker as well as a hiker. Where did she like to go cave-diving?"

"Well, I don't know about diving," Trevor said, "but she liked to explore the caverns just outside of town."

Faith's ears perked up. "Caverns?"

Trevor nodded. "There's an extensive network of caves underneath Grass Mountain. Well, it probably extends under a few peaks, but the most popular entrances are on Grass Mountain."

"And which one is Grass Mountain?" Michael asked.

"It's the one with no trees or plants on it," Trevor said. "I guess the people who named it have a sense of humor."

Faith and Michael shared another look. They had a place to start now. "Thank you, Mr. Hart," Faith said. "We'll be in touch."