His business. After going through it a hundred times, that seemed his only way out now.
Numbly, as if there were some kind of host inside him, something controlling his actions apart from his own conscience that he had no power over, he went by her apartment unit on Colorado Street earlier that day, and was relieved to see it all locked up. A few dog’s toys were strewn on the back deck. He peered inside the sliding glass doors in back and didn’t see any sign of life. No mess about. Nothing in the open kitchen. Clearly, she hadn’t come back there yet, and that gave him a reprieve. Then he went by to see Trey’s widow, Allie, and she said she hadn’t heard from Dani since she left Templeton two days before. Wade figured that if Dani was back, Allie was the first person she would see. He drove out on Roaring Fork Drive to the rafting company Dani worked at. The gal there said she hadn’t been in for three or four days.
So where had she gone now?
Back at the station, he sat at his desk, going through the motions. He took out the business card Hauck had given him that first time he came by. Talon Global Security. Partner. A phone number back in Connecticut.
And underneath it, his mobile.
You are a cop, aren’t you? the bastard had taunted him. That’s your problem. You figure out what to do …
He had a way of finding numbers. Most detectives could. There was the formal way, which required a warrant, and that’s the way you absolutely went when you knew it was going to be run through the system. But there were less forthright ways, too. People who worked for the phone companies, who could assess anyone’s account. Save a whole lot of time and trouble. And the chain of evidence didn’t have to be particularly clean on this job. This situation wasn’t going anywhere near the system. This time, he wasn’t about to be arresting anybody here.
A couple of hours later Wade had a conversation over his cell and had gotten what he was looking for. In the last twenty-four hours, there were three calls to Hauck’s cell phone from the same number in the local area code, 970.
The rest was easy. All you had to do was plug the phone number into Google and it came up right in front of your eyes.
Tom Whyte. Snowmass. And an address out on Elk Creek Road near Snowmass.
Wade didn’t know who he was, but who else would possibly be calling Hauck from here?
So if the rest was easy, how come it sure didn’t feel that way? He took off for the rest of the day, citing personal matters, convincing himself over and over exactly what it was he had to do. He came up with a plan, a sketchy one, he knew, but the best one that presented itself. What he didn’t know was whether he could actually go through with it when the chips were on the line. It was either Kyle or Dani, and like the man had said, one of them needed him more than anything in the world and was his own flesh and blood. That was the way he had to look at it. He looked at his hands, hands that had shaken the hands of lots of famous people who had passed through Aspen over the years. Hands that had done a lot of things he was ashamed of, too.
Now they had to do one more.
He went to his garage and opened a Styrofoam box, then dug around amid the old clothes and personal effects, and pulled out that old bottle of Dewar’s he’d kept there for years. More as kind of a test, knowing it was always there, and he’d passed it for these few years. He’d passed the test well. He undid the foil and opened the cork. He didn’t even look for a glass. He just looked at it like the devil next to him in the room and took in two long gulps. The first liquor that had touched his lips in years.
He wanted to feel ashamed, but he couldn’t. The whiskey was harsh and fiery, but it still felt like an old friend, someone almost forgotten through the years, but who had now walked through his door and all past affronts were forgiven. He took another large gulp and then one more, until he’d made his way through a quarter of the bottle. He felt it burn, like a truth that was long delayed, but clear.
Then he just sat down in his garage and stared. He could see it now. What he had to do. It wasn’t much of a way out. Only the easier of two bad outcomes.
These hands had done a lot of things in his life he was ashamed of.
What was one more?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
“Tell that dog to shut up!” Wade said, flashing the beam of light at Blu, which only agitated the dog further.
The Lab was on his hinds, pulling against Dani, going crazy now. He didn’t really know Wade; he’d met him only one or two times. Maybe it was the uniform or the light flashing in his eyes. Or maybe only that Wade was even out here in the dark. Poking around with a gun.
“What the hell are you doing here, Wade?” Dani asked him again, her eyes going to his weapon.
“Who else is here?” Wade ignored her question, shining the light up at the house.
“No one. My friend will be back any minute, so unless you’ve got some reason to be here, Wade, it would be a good idea to—”
“Put the dog away, Dani. You’re coming with me.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere with you, Wade. You’re acting kind of weird. You seem like you’re drunk. And you still haven’t told me—”
“Not drunk enough that I don’t know what to do,” he said, cutting her off. The dog continued to try to get to him. Wade took a step back. “Shut him up, I said.” He pointed the gun at Blu. “Or I’ll take care of him myself!”
“Wade! Don’t!” Dani yanked on the harness, pulling Blu as close to her as she could. “He’s just scared, that’s all. Can you blame him?”
“He damn well ought to be scared. I’m afraid you have to come with me, Dani. That’s why I’m here. Don’t make a fuss. It’s all official business. Here …” He put the flashlight in a holster on his belt and took out a set of handcuffs. “Put these on.”