The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1) (27 page)

He said, “Um, yes. I was wondering if you’d seen Petilune Goggles this afternoon. I was going to give her a ride to the feed store for her afternoon shift.”

The secretary shook her head no but the Vice-Principal said, “You’re too late. I was out doing bus patrol and a van came by and picked her up.” The woman gave Josh a steely gaze. “Why do you ask?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s nothing. Sounds like Marcus was thinking like me and came by to get her.” He tipped his hat and thanked them for their trouble.

Relieved everything had worked out, Josh muttered, “Can’t wait until Maudie and Filly get to be teens. I wonder if Becca has a clue what’s in store for her.”

Becca waved to Josh as he pulled in front of the cabin. She helped him unload, then asked, “Where’s Becca?”

“Caught a ride with Marcus. He must have decided not to wait for me to show up.”

Becca dropped her bags on the kitchen table and yelped, “He couldn’t have!”

“Why not?”

“Because his van was stolen sometime after lunch. He was pissed because he was going to have to talk with Ted Sorenson about it.”

“Wait, what are you saying...?”

“Marcus doesn’t have a vehicle. There was no way he could have picked Petilune up from school.”

Josh fished Calhoun’s card out of his pocket and barked, “Call Calhoun. Tell him what’s happened and have him meet me at the store.”

“Wait, Josh. I don’t understand. Who picked up Petilune?”

“I don’t know, Becca.” That was the literal truth. “Just make that call. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As the truck tires spun on the gravel, he howled at the windshield, “Jesus Christ, Kit, what the hell have you done?”

––––––––

M
arcus sat across from the two state troopers and leerily watched Ted Sorenson jot down his license, registration and insurance information. The man wore that snarky look, the one that implied Marcus wasn’t being forthcoming.

“So, Mr. Colton, can you describe the contents of the van?”

“I already told you, there wasn’t anything in it. Whoever took it emptied the stock I was going to have delivered to the Wilcox place.”

“How can you be sure—”

Marcus slapped a palm on the invoice sitting on his desk. “I know because this is what I loaded first thing this morning.” He tried hard not to sound exasperated, but Sorenson kept coming at the same stupid topic a dozen different ways, and his answer was the same every time.

“Now why would they do that?” Sorenson’s lips were pursed, holier-than-thou. The other cop looked bored, as if his grand theft auto case was far less interesting than chasing down overweight rigs on the interstate.

The
why would they do that
question punched Marcus’ last straw button. He stood, jammed his fists onto the scarred wood of the desk, and leaned forward, growling, “Exactly how do you expect me to give you an answer? Was I there? No. Do I know who did it? No.” Sucking air, trying to calm down, Marcus hissed, “If you want answers, then maybe you’d best get the fuck out of my office and file your damn report.”

Tweedledum held up his hand and murmured, “Now, now, Mr. Colton, take it easy. No need to get upset.”

Marcus barely heard the other cop. Sorenson had him in an eye lock, the expression accusing and unbearably smug—almost like the cat that had the canary in its grip—a stupid, dumb analogy, but it sent a frisson of concern racing down his spine. What the hell was Sorenson’s problem?

Both troopers stood. Tweedledum mouthed off the usual platitudes, reminding Marcus they’d likely find the van abandoned somewhere nearby, and they’d be in touch if they heard anything.

Sorenson thumbed his notebook. He stared at a page, then said, “You mentioned a shotgun. Was that part of the inventory left behind?”

“I already told you. No, the only stuff on the loading dock is the grain and supplies on this invoice.”

“Do you always carry a shotgun with you when you make deliveries?” The cop smirked.

Unravelling fast, Marcus nearly shouted, “Yes, I carry a shotgun. It’s fucking Wyoming!
Everybody
carries a gun.”

Snapping the notebook shut, Sorenson followed his partner into the store with Marcus dragging his heels behind them. They looked around, assessing the aisles and the two customers who’d obviously been loitering near the office door, listening in. The customers gave Marcus sympathetic nods and quietly continued their shopping.

At the entrance, Sorenson spun around and said, “Guess this’ll be an inconvenience, not having anything for hauling your stuff around the valley.”

Not sure what to make of that statement, Marcus simply shrugged. What the hell kind of response was he supposed to make? He ran a business. He made deliveries. And now he had no way to do that. So yeah, it was an inconvenience.

Sorenson tipped his hat, mimicking his partner’s action in the office, but his was far more exaggerated, much more like a taunt. The man said, “Well, maybe you could get someone to help you out. Like a
close
friend?” Marcus’ gut clenched. “Somebody like Josiah Foxglove...”

A display of spade shovels was next to the door. Marcus reached for one, allowing his fantasy of bashing in the obnoxious cop’s skull take flight. A hand restrained his arm.

“Let it go, Colton. Much as I wouldn’t mind watching you go at it with that jerk, I don’t want to see you in jail.”

Taking a deep breath, Marcus fisted his hand and slowly turned toward the voice of reason. He wasn’t a violent man, in fact he couldn’t remember ever hitting anyone in anger. That just wasn’t him.

But for Ted Sorenson, he might be willing to make an exception.

“How about checking us out, Marcus.” The steadying hand guided him back to the counter and away from temptation.

The other man called out, “They’re gone. Looks like they’re heading back to the barracks.”

Marcus apologized, “I’m really sorry, Paul, Dave. You shouldn’t have had to hear that crap.”

Paul said, “No problem,” and looked back at the other man. “Hey, Dave. You mind we take a detour on the way home?”

Dave muttered, “Nope.”

“If you want, me and my hand can drop off the grain and whatever else needs going to the Wilcox place.” He tilted his head, his face set in a stern expression. “And before you say it’s too much trouble, it ain’t. Just a few miles out of the way. Besides, what are friends for?”

“I appreciate it, Paul.” Marcus looked at the halter lying on the counter and asked, “This for Junie?”

“Yeah, that pony of hers is a real stinker. Keeps slipping his halter. Told the girl, she’d better find herself a part-time job if she wants to keep that sumbitch in horse clothes.”

Marcus laughed. “Junie’s what... ten?” He handed over the halter to the girl’s father and said, “On me. As a thank you. That cute little gal will be a rodeo queen before you know it, Paul.”

The three men headed toward the rear of the store and the loading dock. They stared at the neatly stacked bags of grain set well under the roof out of the weather.

Paul asked, “You do this, or the thief?”

“Wasn’t me. I came out to grab a smoke and found it here. Took me a few minutes to realize the van was gone.”

Dave said, “Wasn’t no stranger done this.” They all nodded in agreement. “Nobody unloads cargo when you’re looking to heist a van.” When Marcus and Paul snickered, Dave objected, “Well, they don’t. If you’re gonna steal a car, you don’t vacuum it out and wash the windows first. Just saying.”

Paul made the observation, “This was somebody who knows you, Marcus. Knows you enough to respect your property and was doing you a solid by not taking the cargo.”

It didn’t feel like a “solid” to Marcus, but he had to agree. “Thing is, I know all of you—where you live, what you drive, your families. And anybody who knows me also knows enough to ask if they need to borrow the damn van. It’s not like I never done it before.”

Dave said, “I’ll bring the truck around, boss,” and disappeared around the side of the building. He was back in a few minutes. Marcus helped them load the fifty pound sacks of grain and fencing supplies onto the truck bed.

Marcus thanked the two men again. “Tell Colby we can settle up next time he’s in town.”

Paul paused before getting in the driver side, asking, “How are you gonna get around? I don’t see that old truck of yours.”

“I took it over to Polly’s. One of her girls is taking an auto mechanics session at school and wanted a shot at changing the oil and tuning it up. Once she’s done, she’ll bring it back.”

Paul laughed. “Girls fixing trucks. Dayyum, Marcus, what’s this world coming to?”

Marcus waved his friends off and asked himself, “What indeed?” Checking his watch, he grumped, “Where are you, Petilune?”

****

M
arcus sat on the front steps, sneaking a smoke. Under normal circumstances he’d never do that, but this day had been anything but normal. Since word had gotten around about the van going missing, he’d been inundated with calls offering to pick up orders rather than have him try to make alternate arrangements. It had kept him busy enough not to dwell on Ted Sorenson and his snide remark about Josh.

And what the hell had that been about anyway? First, the cop made it sound like maybe he was making it up, or... or what? He had no idea what the creep was getting at. By the time they’d left, Marcus was convinced the odds of them making an effort to look for his vehicle were zero to none. That was the bad news side.

On the plus side, there would be eyes all over the valley on the lookout for a white van with no lettering on the panels. Sometimes he could kick himself for being such a penny-pincher. Instead of taking the used van into Laramie to have the store’s name painted on when he’d first got the damn thing, he’d decided to leave it plain. If he
had
gotten it painted, the thief, whoever the hell it was, probably would have moved on to find something less conspicuous.

Paul’s suggestion it had to be somebody who knew him niggled at him constantly. Otherwise, why take the time to leave the contents neatly stowed away? Care had been taken when it hadn’t been necessary.

The squeal of brakes and tires spitting gravel and dirt startled Marcus out of a half-doze. It was Josh’s truck, but before he breathed a sigh of relief that Petilune had finally arrived to help him with inventory, he noticed there was only one person in the cab. A stab of anxiety gripped him as he stood and waited for Josh to park.

The first words out of his mouth were, “Where’s the girl?”

Josh barked, “You got anyone inside?” Marcus nodded no. “Good, let’s take this to your office. I think we’ve got trouble, Marcus, big trouble.”

Keeping his mouth shut, he led Josh to the office, then let loose with a barrage of questions. Josh held up his hand and said, “Hang on.” He pointed to the desk chair. “Sit. I’ve got a shit-ton of stuff to tell you, but first off... No, I didn’t find Petilune at the high school.”

“Then, where...”

“The Vice-Principal said somebody picked her up just as the last bus was leaving. She happened to be out there monitoring the buses like they do.”

“Did she notice who picked her up?”

Josh shook his head no. “She did say it was a van.”

Marcus yelled, “Fuck.” It took a few minutes for him to calm down. When he did, he described the events of the afternoon, skimming over the confrontation with Sorenson as the trooper was leaving the store. Josh definitely did not need to hear that. Now, after hearing Petilune had gotten in the van at school, he had a pretty good idea who was responsible for taking the vehicle.

“It was Kit Golden Eagle, wasn’t it?”

With a grim expression, Josh agreed. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Especially after you telling me the van was cleaned out. That says to me Kit did it for a reason.”

“But why?”

They both paused to consider the question, then Josh said, “Couple things come to mind. Kit’s got that Hog. It would fit in the back of the van easy.” Tapping his finger on his bottom lip, he continued, “Didn’t Sorenson say Kit might have given them the slip after somebody, probably Petilune, tipped the kid off?”

“Yeah, he did. You think he wanted to snatch the girl, but was afraid he’d be recognized if he showed up riding that Harley?”

“That’s exactly what I think. And my gut is telling me he ditched the van as soon as he could. That thing’s not easy to drive around if your intention is to go off road.”

A siren burped, catching their attention. Marcus muttered, “Fuck. That best not be Sorenson again. This time I might not be able to...”

“To what?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you about it later.” They went to the porch to greet the new arrival. Marcus squinted into the sun’s glare and asked, “Is that Laramie PD?”

Josh squeezed his shoulder. “I called him. Name’s Det. Calhoun. Met with him this afternoon.”

Josh did the introductions and suggested they retire to the office. Marcus grabbed a map of the county and a topographic survey quadrant for their area and joined the two big men filling up the tiny space.

The detective sat and pulled his notebook out while Josh stood fidgeting behind him. Marcus spread the maps on the desk while he and Josh alternated bringing the cop up to speed.

Marcus concluded with, “We might be way off base, Det. Calhoun, but given what’s been going on the last few weeks, this has to be way more than co-incidence.”

The detective said, “Call me Cal, and I agree. From what Josh told me earlier, I think it gives us a good starting point.” He glanced at Josh. “What I need to know is why this teen would go to all this trouble. You say he’s the girl’s boyfriend. Wouldn’t him picking her up after school be normal? And if it is, then why do what you say, use the van instead of his bike?” He shifted in his seat. “I can see you two are worried about the girl, but you know the rules, Josh. She got in the van willingly. To report it, the girl’s got to be missing for twenty-four hours. Do either of you have any grounds to say this is an abduction?” He gave Josh a hard stare. “If you do, I need to hear it now so we can bring in the FBI from the Cheyenne office.”