Cloister pulled in behind a dusty FOX news van. The man standing next to it, slotting batteries into transmitter packs, scowled at them. “Hey!” he protested, waving a hand at the nonexistent gap between bumpers. He looked stocky, but that was an optical illusion caused by the heavy pocket-hung vest he had on. “How am I supposed to get in to get my gear?”
Javi flashed his badge through the windshield. There was no way the man could have identified the FBI seal through the dust and mud and glass between them. All he saw was the gold shield, the heavy black wallet, and a good reason to mind his own business. Still scowling, he threw his hands up in surrender and backed off. Javi opened his door just in time to catch the muttered, “…assholes.”
Two squad cars arrived while Cloister was getting Bourneville out. Javi waved one of the deputies over.
“Take over at the gate.” He pointed toward the cluster of bodies blocking the road. “I don’t think the country needs to know what the Prom King of Plenty thinks about this case.”
The woman nodded briskly. “I’ll get on that, Agent Merlo.”
While she did that, Cloister and Javi ducked through the gauntlet of the press. Javi fended off questions with the brisk reminder that he’d only just arrived and they’d know more as soon as he did.
Matt had already unlocked the padlocks and dragged the gates back as they approached. He let them duck through and then locked up again.
“Mr. Reed sent one of the ATVs down for you,” he said. He pointed over to a red buggy parked at the side of the road. He faltered as the math of one buggy with two seats settled in. “You could drive up yourself? It’s easy enough….”
“I’ll walk.” Cloister gave the buggy a jaded look. “It won’t take me long.”
A bone-rattling ride later and a spring intimately acquainted with his ass, Javi thought Cloister had probably made the right decision.
“Have the media been causing problems?” Javi asked.
Matt shrugged with his mouth and shoulders. He freed one hand to scratch at the welt on his neck. “Not for me. They don’t care much what I think,” he muttered. “Had a couple of things happen up here. Never had so many show up before.”
“Children tug the heartstrings,” Javi said.
Matt snorted. “Not met some of the ones up here,” he muttered. “Spoiled brats. No idea how lucky they are.”
“Like Drew?” Javi asked, suspicion tweaking at the back of his brain. The sheriff’s department had run background checks on all the Retreat’s staff. Nothing had come up that raised suspicion, and they’d all had alibis of varying strength.
Matt pulled up in front of the Retreat’s main office. He turned the engine off and gave Javi an abashed look.
“No, he was just a kid. The little ones are okay,” he said. “It’s the older ones, like Billy. He was always going behind his parents’ back, picking on the other kids, getting in people’s way. They come up here and act like we’re servants, here to run around for them.”
Javi delayed getting out of the ATV. “Did the staff have a lot of problems with Billy?”
“Not before.” Matt pulled the key out, fiddled with it, and twisted his fingers around the metal ring. “This year he just came up with a bad attitude. I caught him smokin’ out in the forest. Told him he could start a fire. He told me to mind my own business.”
“Teenagers,” Javi said lightly. “They grow out of it.”
“If someone shows them the way,” Matt said. “Let me know if you need a ride back down, Agent Merlo.”
It was difficult to scramble out of a buggy with any elegance. Javi extricated himself and fastidiously dusted his trousers down. He made a mental note to review Matt’s background check, just in case, but it was probably just service burnout. If Javi had to work with children all day, every day, he’d sound bitter too.
Javi thanked Matt for the ride, and when he turned around, he saw Reed jogging across the courtyard toward him.
Finally. Tranquil had made himself scarce since the night Drew disappeared. The ex-hippy mouthed all the right sympathetic platitudes to the department when they called, but stopped short of actually coming in for an interview. Javi assumed he was trying to dodge a lawsuit. With two missing children and a body in the morgue, he wondered bleakly if Reed had been afraid of something else.
“Special Agent Merlo,” Reed said as he reached him. He stopped and smoothed his graying hair back from his face. He was wearing jeans and a plain white shirt instead of his hippy costume of linen and approachable wrinkles, and his mask of affability had worn thin. His mouth was tight and his eyes hard as stones. “This is untenable. My business is disrupted, and the press is implying this is somehow my fault—”
“Is it?” Javi asked.
Reed stopped. Calculation made him narrow his eyes as he tried to measure just how serious Javi was.
“Of course not,” he said. “I’ve always tried to make the Retreat safe for my guests. It’s part of the ethos we’ve always had here. Since I opened my home to—”
“Then, when we find these missing children, your reputation will be cleared, won’t it?” Javi asked. He wasn’t in the mood, but for the sake of smoothing out the interaction, he added some honey. “The FBI will certainly make it clear how grateful we are for your help.”
Quid pro quo was something Reed understood. He smoothed his shirt down again and put his salesman face back on.
