What’s the chance she randomly chose today to skip out? Maybe it wasn’t random. According to her coworkers, she’d been more than Conrad’s groupie. Not lovers, but friends or at least drinking buddies. She’s been seen at the Red Lion and the Roc with Conrad, Gloria, and a few others. Including Ted, who hadn’t divulged that relationship when we’d talked. Even Marissa had been part of the group at one point.
As a detective, I feel as if I should be more aware of the relationship webs in town. Yet keeping tabs on that feels like indulging in gossip. Who’s sleeping with whom. Who’s drinking with whom. Who’s fighting with whom. The case against Conrad happened so fast that I didn’t have time to delve into any of his relationships. The Marissa one is certainly a shock. I knew he’d been interested in her, but she certainly never suggested they’d hung out socially.
All that goes in my back pocket. The point is that Jolene had been friends with Conrad. Had his near-death experience knocked her off track? Or, as someone who believed in his cause, had she been disillusioned to realize it was all self-interest? Needed a day off to think and reflect?
I will allow for the possibility then that Jolene is uncharacteristically playing hooky from work. She could even be lying low. After all, she was Conrad’s fiercest supporter, and now it turns out that he only had that one tidbit, about that one special case. In her place, I’d be hiding my face, too.
Back to her apartment for a search while the militia scout around town. I leave Kenny outside Jolene’s place to question anyone walking past. I’ve barely made it through Jolene’s apartment door before Dalton appears with Storm at his heels.
“I’m going to see whether she can track Jolene,” he says. “She’s better with you, but you’re better at this.” He waves around the apartment.
I shake my head. “No need for that yet. You have plenty of other things to do.”
“And plenty of other times to do them. My head’s a mess and, right now, nothing seems more tempting than accompanying Storm on a pointless tracking exercise.”
I walk over and kiss his cheek. “Then you absolutely should do that. If Jolene doesn’t turn up in a few hours, I’d have needed to do it myself.”
He nods.
I rub his arm. “I won’t ask whether you’re okay, because I know you’re not.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m shifting my brain over to the idea of Rockton closing. To the certainty of it. Part of me wants to yank back, like I’m touching a hot iron. But part of me is…” He purses his lips. “Relieved, maybe? If that’s the right word?”
“Well, half of me is running around in a panic, like Chicken Little seeing the sky falling. The other half is madly thinking of all the things we can do better.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Yeah, we can do a lot of things better. I’ll focus on that. I have some ideas.”
“I’m sure you have a ton of ideas. Let me search this place, let the militia do their rounds, and let Storm do her tracking. One of us will find Jolene. And then we’ll spend the evening at home, getting drunk and making plans. Or getting drunk and getting naked and forgetting all of this.”
“How about getting drunk, making plans, and then getting naked and forgetting all of this?”
I smile up at him. “Sounds just about perfect.”
* * *
I find a piece of Jolene’s discarded clothing. That’s certainly easy—it’s all over the apartment. Then I set Storm on the scene and send them off.
I spend two hours searching Jolene’s apartment. That sounds more impressive if I don’t mention that I periodically pop out to check on the progress of the militia, as if they wouldn’t run to tell me if they found her. I also check on Dalton and Storm, as if they wouldn’t come to tell me if they found a trail. I can’t help it. In my current state of mind, I can only focus in twenty-minute bursts. Then my thoughts wander to the demise of Rockton, and I need fresh air and a mental shake-up before I can resume my search.
Apparently, I’m not the only one distracted. At the two-hour mark, Petra raps on Jolene’s door.
“I come bearing coffee and cookies,” she says.
I walk out onto the porch, and we sit on the step, with Kenny eating a cookie behind us.
“I won’t ask what you found,” Petra says as she sips her coffee.
“Does it matter?” Does any of it matter? I don’t say that. It sounds too much like whining.
I continue, “I don’t think I need to keep my investigations quite so confidential anymore. Her place is a mess, but I think that’s mostly just Jolene.”
Petra turns her face up to the sun. “She’s the kind of housekeeper who only washes dishes when she runs out of clean ones?”
“Yep. But the problem with messy housekeeping in a crime scene is that it could hide legitimate disturbances. Are the drawers opened because someone searched through them? Or because she just never closes them?”
I stretch my legs. “The place seems ransacked, but on closer inspection, I see no obvious evidence it was.” I glance over at her. “Want a look?”
“Sure.”
We head inside, still eating cookies and drinking coffee. It’s not as if Jolene will notice the crumbs when she returns.
I have no idea exactly what Petra did before she retired. I call it “special ops,” but I suspect she’d wrinkle her nose at that. From the way she goes through Jolene’s apartment, though, it’s obvious she has some experience with this or at least with ransacking a place and then covering her tracks.
When she finishes, she shakes her head. “I see nothing that couldn’t be messy housekeeping. If someone went rummaging through her drawers, they’d be more likely to make the amateur mistake of closing them back up again. There’s a mark on the wall, that could be blood.”
“It’s not. I used an ultraviolet light on it. I’m guessing ketchup or tomato sauce.”
“Well, that makes sense. I don’t see obvious signs of a search or a struggle.”
“In other words, Jolene’s going to pop up in a few hours and give me proper shit for going through her things.”
“Maybe, but you don’t need to worry about that anymore, do you?”
I sigh. “True.”
She lowers her voice. “Have you talked to Diana?”
It takes me a moment to make the segue. Then I curse under my breath.
“Yeah,” she says. “Diana and I aren’t exactly pals, but you might want to talk to her about the town closing.”
I sigh. “All right. Time to temporarily forget Jolene. I have house calls to make.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Two hours ago, I was mentally bitching at having to search for Jolene while I was busy thinking about Rockton closing. Now it’s the opposite. I’m caught up in the mystery of Jolene, and balking at needing to divert to deal with Rockton-closure issues. Or maybe that’s an excuse. Compared to speaking to Diana and April about the closing, I’d rather keep hunting for Jolene.
I find them both still in the clinic. Which is awkward when I need to have two very different conversations.
“Inventory?” I ask as I walk in to find April holding a clipboard while Diana bends to count something in a drawer.
“Yes,” April says briskly. “I realize we will not be allowed another supply trip into Dawson City, and so I am taking inventory in the event that I need to begin conserving resources.”