End Game (Will Robie 5)

“What kind of shit? Like seeing prisoners somewhere?”

“Are you telling me that he did see that?”

“We think he did. It might be the reason he’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared? Hell, he probably just run off. Boys like him do, you know. Going to get his honey from another hive, so to speak. I seen his kind all my damn life.”

“Other people we think might have been involved in this have disappeared,” said Reel. “Including one person we really need to find. So maybe ‘Clém’ didn’t run off for fresh honey.”

“But who would be keeping prisoners out here?” she asked.

“You know somebody named Dolph?”

Drango’s top lip quivered just a bit. “No.”

“You want to think about that and try again?” asked Robie.

Drango perched her butt on top of the bookcase. “Look, everybody around here knows about that psycho. But I don’t know him.”

“We’ve made his acquaintance,” said Reel. “And I would affirm your description that he’s a psycho. But are you saying he’s not the sort to take prisoners?”

“I think he’s the sort that would do whatever the hell he wanted.”

Robie cocked his head and looked at her curiously. “You sound like you know more about him than you’re letting on, Ms. Drango.”

Drango fidgeted with one of her fingernails before saying, “I would not put it past those creeps to take prisoners. But I don’t know if that’s what Clém was talking about or not.”

“The last time you saw him, was it before or after he left rehab?”

Drango hesitated.

“Just tell us the truth. You’re not going to get in any trouble doing that,” said Robie. “But if you lie to us, that’s a whole other ballgame.”

“After. He came back here one night. He looked clean. I mean really clean from drugs. I thought he’d just left me, and I was pissed. But then he told me he’d gone into rehab voluntarily. Gotten himself off the crap. He said he really wanted to get his act together.” She stopped and rubbed at a sudden tear clinging to her right eye. “He said…he said maybe we should get married.”

“So it sounds like he was planning on staying around,” said Reel.

“Yeah, it sounded like it.”

“When he came back from rehab did he have his belongings with him?” asked Robie.

“He had a suitcase with clothes and stuff. He had left a few things here before he went away.”

“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