“They got neither.” Robert folded his hands on his desk. “Plainclothes officer. They didn’t ask to see a badge, and he didn’t offer. The kicker—mom and dad decided to give Brian a last toke sendoff, so Brian was intoxicated when he passed into this person’s possession. They didn’t abstain from the festivities.”
“Great. Wonderful. Any credible description of the perp or the car?”
Robert turned to his monitor and quoted, “‘He was really skinny, kinda ugly. Looked totally undercover. Jeans, and what kinda shirt? Oh, a green one. No, blue.’” Robert looked back at Sylvie. “They go on to argue over shirt color, finally settling on red, before describing the car as,” he turned back to the screen, “‘one of those beaters, man, kinda brown or maybe gray. I didn’t get a look at the license plate, no.’”
“And they turned their son over to this individual? Shit, no wonder Brianna hauled ass to her aunt and uncle’s as a kid,” Sylvie said, and Frank nodded.
“Has anyone checked the traffic cams?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “They live way the hell and gone. No cameras up that way, and nothing in Lyons.”
“So they headed farther up into the hills. What about cameras on Thirty-Six? Or over at Fire Station Two?”
“Nothing shows up on either.”
“They could’ve taken any damn logging road. Fuck.” Sylvie slapped Robert’s desk in frustration.
Robert’s phone rang. “Yeah?” He frowned and visibly paled as he listened to the voice on the other end. “I’ll let them know.”
He swore as he disconnected. “We have a John Doe, initial description matching Taylor. Found along the road, drugged-up and beaten, barely alive. He’s headed for a hospital in Longmont now.”
“What road?” Sylvie asked, already afraid of Robert’s answer.
“Ute Highway. Not far from the turnoff to Watchdog.”
Sylvie closed her eyes.
“You got something to say, Madden?” Robert asked. When she opened her eyes, he was glowering at her. So was Frank.
“No, sir.”
“We’re out of jurisdiction on this. But, George wants to see the three of you.” Sylvie noted that even though George wanted to see her, Robert had excluded her fromthismeeting. She tried not to grit her teeth. “Skip this morning’s briefing—I want you up there ASAP. Now go.” Robert actually made a shooing motion.
* * *
As they walkedside-by-side down the hall, Sylvie asked Frank in a low voice, “Was this intentional?”
“Stay in your lane, Sylvie.”
“Frank, I fucking need answers. Did you and Tom know? Who did this to him?”
“We don't know, alright? But things aren't looking good. It could be the cartel or it could be Watchdog, either working with them or independently.”
Sylvie stopped dead. “Why would Watchdog do this? And then to dump him so close to their company? You don’t shit where you eat. It doesn't make any sense. It’s not them. They’re being set up.”
“Don’t be so sure. Brian was a threat to Brianna, wasn't he? Isn't she dating one of them? I wouldn't put it past them.”
“Then why would they go to George, demanding to know what happened?”
“You know as well as I do, they’re covering their tracks. It’s why they dumped him so close—to throw everyone off. Or they’re just that arrogant.”
“Jesus! How can you say that?”
He put his hand on Sylvie’s shoulder. “Let me handle this, Rookie. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re already under suspicion, with Robert, Sylvie. Your little show in there just now, your ties to George and Watchdog, to Alex—”
