The shaved-head man wasn’t behind the bar any more-now he sat on the other side of it, getting drunk and staring Teffinger down. Teffinger looked him dead in the eyes and then headed for the men’s room.
Come on, asshole. Bring it on.
73
DAY ELEVEN-SEPTEMBER 15
THURSDAY NOON
Over the lunch hour, Aspen left the office early, ran the six blocks to her car, took I-25 northbound to the Boulder Turnpike, and then headed west. She tried to call Nick Teffinger several times on the way, but he never answered. Directly ahead through the windshield loomed the Rocky Mountains, getting bigger with each passing mile. Boulder sat at the foot of the mountains, with good views of the Flatirons from almost everywhere.
She drove around until she found a free two-hour parking spot, several blocks beyond The Hill, across Broadway. Then she hoofed it down to the University of Colorado campus.
The day was gorgeous.
Students were everywhere.
Every single one of them was dressed for comfort.
Sarah Ringer was waiting for her on the front steps of the library. While she wasn’t the spitting image of her sister, Rachel, there was enough of a resemblance that Aspen recognized her. She looked to be about twenty-three, tanned and fit. After greetings and chitchat, they walked through campus, surrounded by the timelessly beautiful rock buildings.
“Like I indicated on the phone,” Aspen said, “I’m trying to figure out what happened to Rachel. This morning I got a disturbing report that Rachel might have been raped one night at the law firm, on March 14th to be precise.”
Then she told Conrad Conrad’s story, without disclosing his name.
“If that’s true,” Aspen said, “I have to think that it’s somehow involved in why she disappeared, which was only two weeks later. My gut tells me that if she confided in anyone about what happened that night, it was you.”
Over in a grass field, four guys played Frisbee.
Carefree.
“If she did tell me something,” Sarah said, “why would I tell you?”
Aspen shrugged.
“Because I’m trying to find out what happened. She was my friend.”
Sarah shifted a worn backpack to her other shoulder.
“Let me think about it for a minute,” Sarah said. “I need to figure out if Rachel would want me to talk to you or not.”
They walked in silence.
Then Sarah said, “She was sexually assaulted, but not raped, at least technically, since there was no penetration.”
“By who?”
“She wouldn’t say, but I always had the impression it was someone she knew. My guess is either another attorney in the firm or a client. Anyway, the whole thing really had an impact on her, but at the same time she almost seemed to defend the guy, saying he was drunk, lonely, stuff like that. She couldn’t stay at the firm though, she knew that much. She was already floating her resume when she disappeared.”
“Did she report it?”
“You mean to the police? No.”
“How about to the law firm?”
Sarah exhaled.
“I told her to,” Sarah said, “but I don’t know if she ever did or not. She was ashamed by the whole thing. She said that if word ever got out, then her career as a lawyer would be over, especially if someone put a spin on it and put the blame on her. I told her she was nuts but couldn’t get her to see things the way she should.” Sarah looked into Aspen’s eyes. “I’m only telling you this now because if it does have something to do with her death, then it’s time to get it out in the open. You seem like a genuinely good person.”
“I don’t know if I’d say genuinely.”
Sarah laughed.
“I’m not even sure I’d say good.”
“But person,” Sarah said. “You’d at least say that.”
Aspen nodded.
“That much I can admit to.”
Aspen had a ton of work on her desk and would already be cutting the day short, even if she headed back to the office right now. But it looked like Sarah needed to talk.
“You want to get some coffee?” Aspen asked.
74
DAY ELEVEN-SEPTEMBER 15
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
Draven’s vehicle almost stopped in time but didn’t, hitting the deer directly in the chest. The animal shot backwards, landed on its side, muscled itself up in a panic and then limped into the mountainside.
“Shit!”
Draven got out and found the front end nearly destroyed. The hood had buckled and couldn’t be opened. Antifreeze dripped onto the ground, not a lot, but enough to indicate a puncture in the radiator or a hose.
“Dumb-ass animal!”
He picked up a rock and threw it at the deer. Astonishingly, he actually hit it, and not just anywhere, but right in the back of the head. The animal immediately fell to the ground and didn’t get up.
“Serves you right.”
He got back in the car and squealed off. He already had enough goddamn stuff on his plate without this. When he arrived at the cabin twenty minutes later he left the engine running and looked under the front end, trying to determine how fast the radiator was draining. The leak, while still present, was barely perceptible. The gauges reported a normal engine temperature.
Okay.
Good.
Maybe things weren’t as bad as he thought.
He turned off the engine and stepped to the front door of the cabin. It was locked, as it should be. Everything appeared to be exactly as he’d left it. He used his key to enter and walked straight into the bedroom.
The tattoo woman-Mia Avila-was still tied to the bed, exactly as she should be. Except unlike the last time he’d seen her, she was awake now.
The drugs would have worn off long ago.
“Visitor,” he said.
Her face twisted into a panic.
But he focused more on the urine smell coming from the sheets. He almost slapped her but reminded himself that it wasn’t her fault. No one could have held it that long.
He untied her and let her shower while he watched. Then he put her in a fresh T-shirt and let her eat until
