Chapter 12
The shadows were long as I drove back to the motel and parked in front of my room. Stuck between the room door and its frame was a business card. Across the top it had the name Joseph Custer. Underneath was Teton County Observer, the name of the local newspaper I had just read at the library. There were phone numbers and an email address in the bottom right corner. Scribbled on the back was a request: Please call me ASAP. It was signed Joseph. The date and time were for today at 10 AM.
He was a reporter rustling up a story. It certainly didn’t take him long to track me down. But it’s a small town, and there weren’t any other lodging options. His name was curious. I wondered if there was any connection to the infamous Indian fighter, General George Armstrong Custer. I might ask him, just out of curiosity, though he had probably already been asked that question hundreds or thousands of times throughout his life. Best to let that go.
I pocketed the card. A reporter can be a valuable resource. He knows Willow Run and probably could tell me far more than I would learn simply by searching at the library. And by writing a story on my misadventure in the forest, with my input, he might put a more positive spin on it. That might help repair my damaged reputation. The story might even bring forth witnesses or those who knew the missing man. A written story also would be helpful in approaching Cortina Perez. It would give me something solid for starting a conversation.
I stayed outside on the walkway in front of the room, pulled out my phone, turned it on, and dialed. The reception out here was good, so I didn’t want to chance having it fade out by going inside. Except when I was on Monarch Trail, I had kept the device turned off. I wanted to postpone dealing with the missed calls I knew had come in. There were three of them. The calls were not from Joseph Custer, since he didn’t have my number. Rather, they were calls from an old friend.
“Garvey,” he answered.
This was his desk phone number, so Ed was still at it, ever the workaholic. He volunteered for overtime whenever he could to squeeze out some extra pay to support his family.
“Did you put some bad guys away today?” I asked.
Ed Garvey was in his late forties. We had been partners in a patrol car for several years, until I was let go from the force in the budget cuts. He was the older cop teaching me, the rookie. We had clicked from the first day, getting along like long-time friends. We had an easy relationship. He was like an older brother. We could confide in each other, joke with each other, and watch each other’s backs.
“Well, if it isn’t Liberty, the traveling gnome,” he said with enthusiasm. “You still trekking on the frontier?”
Liberty was a nickname Ed laid on me the day we met, and it stuck. I had no objection.
“Yeah, now I’m out here in Big Sky Country starting over. And I guess they haven’t laid you off yet?”
“Not yet, but the big guys are working on it. The budget is worse off than they thought, so more of us may soon be following you out west. Leave a trail of breadcrumbs so we can find our way,” he said, laughing. Then he continued with a tone of annoyance. “But while they screw us over, they bought a new fleet of cars for the suits, riot gear, a second police helicopter, and a cabin cruiser for patrolling the Ohio River. You know, Cincinnati is such a hotbed of terrorist activity.”
“Sounds like same old same old. But enough griping. How are the wife and kids?”
“Samantha is fine. The new school year will be coming up soon, so she’ll be getting her class work together for the fall. And we spent a lot of time recently on campus tours. The older kid is starting to apply for college. Can you believe she’s going to be a senior this year?”
“They do grow up fast. Next thing you know, you’ll be a grandpa.” We both chuckled at that.
There was a brief lag in the conversation, and then Ed picked it up. “I tried calling you several times. I was worried. We were all worried here. Some Montana cops called to ask about you. What’s going on out there?”
“Sorry about the phone. Reception is not so good out here.” That was a lie, but I hoped he wouldn’t recognize it.
“OK,” he said hesitantly. After a brief moment, he probed, “But what’s going on?” His voice had the sound of a mixture of concern and a bit of annoyance at me delaying in answering him.
“Nothing really, Ed.” I wasn’t ready to reveal to him my finding and losing a body in the forest. That would come eventually, because in the long run, we had no secrets from each other. Maybe he already knew about it and was letting me take the lead in telling him, rather than pushing me into it. “I just reported something to the cops, and I guess they wanted to know more about the reliability of me as a witness. No big deal.” After a pause, I continued. “Ed, I really just called to hear a familiar voice.” I sincerely meant that.
“Glad to accommodate. You know my offer still stands. You are welcome to stay in our basement. It has a foldout couch, bathroom, twenty years of accumulated junk from us living in this house. The room service sucks, but the price is right.”
“Thanks, Ed. I may yet take you up on that.” I paused a few beats. “So I guess there’s still no openings in the department.”
“Sorry, buddy. No hiring, just more firing.”
I expected that to be his answer. I yearned for my old position back, to re-enter my old life, to have a job again. Income was important, but the job meant more than just the money. It signified that I had value to the world. I needed that.
Ed continued. “Any job openings in Montana?”
“Looking into it.” In the diner, I had overheard a remark from one of the locals about the Sheriff retiring. So perhaps there was an opportunity, if the populace of Willow Run had not already decided I was an imbecile for my exploits on Monarch Trail. If the Sheriff and Enid got a vote, though, I was finished before I started.
“Sounds promising,” Ed said with feigned enthusiasm. “Look, buddy, I gotta get going and pick up the kid from soccer practice. Maybe we can talk later?”
“Sure. I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks for the chat, Ed.”
“Anytime, Liberty.”
We both rang off. It was good to hear his voice. His friendship meant a lot to me. And I knew that his anytime also meant I could rely on him as a resource, if I needed it. Since there was no crime lab at my disposal, I hoped Ed would assist me as my investigation into the disappearing corpse continued.