appears Malcolm Wardwell was locked up briefly for child pornography in the seventies. Does anyone from the Sheriff’s Office here have any more details?’
Mike and Bob shook their heads.
‘Has there been any trouble since?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Bob. ‘Model citizen …’ He shrugged.
‘And do people know about him?’ said Ren.
‘It’s not like people are stoning the store,’ said Mike. ‘Some of the locals know, but obviously there’s always new people drifting in and out, people moving away. And I think he was living in Frisco at the time, so that bit of distance helped him out.’
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Jean was working on some child abuse cases – the most recent in Silverthorne and Dillon. Nothing in Breck, nothing in the last three months, and nothing to do with Wardwell – right?’
‘That’s correct,’ said Gressett.
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘What we don’t have: there was no cellphone found at the scene. It’s unlikely the unsub left either of them with her, if she was carrying them. And even if he did, the phone was probably lost in the slide. We don’t have Jean’s vehicle – a silver Subaru Forester – but we do have someone who came forward to say, among other things, that he may have seen it in the parking lot at a bar called the Brockton Filly. His name is Salem Swade – a Vietnam vet who lives in an old miner’s cabin up on Quandary.
‘The Brockton Filly is right near the base of Quandary and is run by Jean’s one-three-seven – confidential informant. His name is Billy Waites. Gary Dettling from Safe Streets has more on Waites’ background.’
‘OK,’ said Gary, ‘In the late Nineties, Billy Waites was part of a narcotics operation, run by an ex-Navy Seal, ex-SAS guy, and a German communications expert. And then their distribution network. They were bringing drugs in from Colombia. The drugs would come in on a tugboat to whatever port; the guys who ran the operation would have already rented some luxury home in the area. They’d set up their communications, whatever they needed to do. And they’d go from there.’
‘How were they caught?’ said Cliff.
‘One of the shipments was intercepted by the coastguard and some of the guys turned. They were allowed to complete the drop – this particular time it was in Atlanta. The subordinates were all using throwaway phones so we couldn’t trace them back to anyone. Eventually, OCDEF convinced a judge they had probable cause. They did a Title III, the place was bugged. They had guys sitting on the wires every day who couldn’t get shit. The gang were using codes, talking about their families every couple of minutes – they knew the drill. And that’s where Billy Waites came in. Waites is smart. He was the codes guy. But the code was finally cracked and we were able to take them down. And Waites turned.’
‘Was Waites a user?’ said Ren.
Gary nodded. ‘He was working as a prep chef in a restaurant. There was a lot of blow going around. That’s when he got caught up with the gang. One of the distributors brings in meth, Billy tries it, gets hooked. After a year, he packs himself off to a cabin in the mountains for two months to detox. And he did it. But came right back into the business.’
‘So he cleans up, comes out of his cabin rehab, and throws himself back into the whole scene?’ said Ren. She paused. ‘Will power.’
Gary gave her his patient look. He kept talking: ‘He was dealing again, but not using, according to Jean, who would recount her meetings with Billy Waites to her colleague, Todd Austerval.’
‘But how did she know he wasn’t still using?’
‘She’d know. Jean didn’t have a problem with him. He was relieved to co-operate. He was very grateful –’
‘Aren’t they all?’ said Colin. ‘Grateful … and manipulative.’
‘The head guy in the gang was insane,’ said Gary. ‘By the end, Waites had had enough.’
‘So … Waites and Jean,’ said Ren.
‘We have no record of her calling Waites that night, but if this Salem guy is correct, she did pay him a visit around the time she disappeared.’
‘I’ll go talk to him tonight,’ said Ren.
‘OK,’ said Gary. ‘I’ll pass his file over to you. Maybe you could go with Todd Austerval.’
‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘I just need to go home, pick up my Jeep.’
Ren needed a ride back to her house in Golden – an hour’s drive east on I-70 toward Denver – to pick up her newly repaired Jeep and some supplies. Robbie offered to take her. She wasn’t feeling sociable enough for him, but she said yes. She threw him one-word answers, but he had enough questions to keep it going indefinitely. It had been a while since she rode with him.
‘So – big case,’ said Robbie.
Ren glanced at him. ‘Yes.’
‘Murder of a federal agent.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re heading it up.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but …’
Uh-oh.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘Colin thinks you and Paul Louderback … you know …’
‘That’s so weird,’ said Ren. ‘When Gary got Colin to head up whatever, I thought he and Gary … you know …’
Robbie glanced at her. ‘I was just saying what I heard.’
‘Who else was in on this conversation?’ said Ren.
‘A few of the others.’
‘You’re like a bunch of old ladies in a hair salon. Christ. Paul Louderback and I did not … you know.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘So, how’s Vincent?’ said Robbie.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘I might be about to find out.’
‘He’ll be home?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why don’t you call him?’
‘Why? It doesn’t matter if he’s home or not. I’m just going in, picking up clothes and leaving.’
‘Are you sure? I’m not going to sit out in the car like a loser while you have some big, emotional reunion.’
Robbie’s cellphone rang.
