“Don’t go there. Wait until you hear from me.”
A meeting that included Venuti, Thorpe, and the district attorney and assistants was under way in a conference room. I caught Venuti’s eye as I grabbed gear and walked out. On the highway halfway to Indian Wells, I texted him, Gone to check a tip in Pahrump. Beatty says Strata drones and pilots no longer at the airfield. All vehicles except Bahn’s truck are gone. Airfield appears deserted.
I called the young man, the tipster, Danny Cole, and told him I was an FBI agent and on my way. Then I called Strata and learned everything was normal at the airfield. They had just talked to the flight instructor, who forwarded a link from a drone on a survey run over the Ghost Mountains.
“Doesn’t seem to be a wind problem this morning,” the woman told me. “It looks like all of the drones are up. Why are you calling?”
“We had a report that there’s no one at the airfield and the drones are gone.”
“That report is incorrect. I’m looking at the video feed right now.”
“Thank you.”
I called Beatty and got him.
“Are you at the airfield?”
“I am and don’t bother coming out. There’s nothing to see. The door to the trailer is open. I’m inside. Computers are gone. Bahn’s truck was unlocked and looks like it’s been rooted through. It’s like one of those sci-fi movies where everybody is missing, but the coffee is still warm.”
“Back out. Don’t touch anything. Any blood?”
“Not yet. I’m going to look for the Land Cruiser, but I can’t call you from there. There’s no cell reception. I’ll call you when I get back to where the phone works. Something bad happened out here.”
52
I stood outside my car in a lot three blocks from the warehouse as Danny Cole rode up on a skateboard. He was skinny, with stringy blond hair and acne like war paint, but soft-spoken and poised about what he’d seen.
“How did it happen that you were out here at that hour and on foot?”
“Went to a party and my ride home left without me, the fucker, so I walked.” He pointed. “I live that way,” then added, “like a mile and a half.”
We talked for ten to fifteen minutes and when it looked like I had everything I’d get, I thanked him. As Danny rolled away, I called Lacey, who had also been on the phone with Strata this morning.
“I talked to three people there,” she said. “They’ve got a visual feed and everything is normal at the airfield. They talked to Edward Bahn yesterday afternoon. Maybe Beatty is losing it.”
“Or maybe their feed is a loop from some other day.”
“Or he’s trying to lure you.”
“Did you get that from Venuti?”
“Well, he could be, right?”
“While we’re thinking about this, let me give you some information on a warehouse in Pahrump. We need to find out who owns it and what it’s used for. All I have is an address and I’m going to talk to some of the locals, but call me as soon as you have anything.”
I texted Lacey the name of the warehouse owner’s daughter, which I got from a nearby business owner who told me the father, the owner, had Alzheimer’s. She said the daughter controlled everything, in a tone suggesting that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Lacey called back in under half an hour.
“I talked to the daughter. The building is leased to a trucking firm that distributes snack food. The warehouse is used for storing product.”
“So it’s probably not a lead.”
“Probably not.”
“I’ll ask around a little more before I head to Beatty. Tell Venuti I’ll call when I leave here.”
Pahrump was maybe thirty-five, forty thousand people, and this warehouse was toward the outskirts. I went into a café, which seemed to have a strong morning business, and asked the owner if there was anyone she knew who lived close by.
“Half of them do, but it doesn’t stop them from driving here.”
She pointed out a couple of locals who lived near. One of them, a gray-haired, middle-aged woman, told me she saw four trucks leave early this morning, not three.
“I was out looking for my cat. We lose them to coyotes and I don’t want to lose Miss Daisy. They left separately, about one every five minutes, heading west at about five a.m., silver 18-wheelers, unmarked, all male drivers.”
“You got all that.”
“I used to be a dispatcher and I’m nosy.” She added, “But trucks come out of there. It’s not that unusual. It’s a depot and they load up and go from there, though it has been quiet lately. There are two young men who work there that I see in here in the early morning.”
“When did you start seeing them?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Anything about them stand out?”
“Not really. They could be from around here.”
“I’m going to need a way to get in touch with you.”
She gave me a phone number, and I gave it to Lacey when I called her as I left Pahrump.