The scene at the Jackson house was the same. Heyward with his laptop, Dugan his attitude. Sam Jackson was in the den-turned-studio with Molly, the campaign manager. Rachel Jackson was not in sight but a few minutes after Bell arrived she came downstairs. Maybe she heard his voice.
As Bell began to give Dugan his story Sam Jackson came out from the den to listen, remaining on his feet and regarding Bell like he was selling something door-to-door. Bell sat at the dining room table while he talked. Rachel brought him a cup of coffee without asking and then sat down across from him.
“And that’s about it,” Bell said when he finished. He refrained from telling Dugan about Lily and the photos. There was probably nothing there anyway, and he didn’t want Dugan sending someone to talk to the woman in place of Bell. She was his contact.
“Tell me again what you have on the truck,” Dugan said.
“I know it’s green and at least two witnesses said it was a GMC,” Bell said. “Big van, probably a seven-ton.”
“No plate number?” Dugan asked. He’d already asked before.
“If I had a plate number, I would have run it by now.”
“You say you got back in the city last night?” Dugan said. “If we had this information five hours ago we would have had choppers in the air after the woman called from Cooperstown. In all likelihood we’d have this truck in our possession right now. The driver too.”
“There was a call from Cooperstown?” Bell asked. He could feel Rachel’s eyes on him.
Dugan stalled a moment, caught. “Yeah, there was.”
“Too bad I didn’t know that,” Bell said. “I’ve been out of the loop. But you knew that, didn’t you, Agent Dugan?”
Dugan gave Bell a look before turning to Sam Jackson and shrugging. Now it was damage control. “Could be something. Could be nothing more than coincidence. What did he come up with—a green truck and a woman nobody can identify.”
Sam nodded, as if agreeing on what to order for lunch. “But next time she calls, I want somebody in a chopper looking for that truck.”
Bell stood up. “I guess my work here is done.” He saw now that the campaign manager was in the room, leaning against the doorway to the den and watching him with a wry expression. Rachel stood as well. It seemed as if there was something she wanted to say before he left.
“Leave your notes,” Dugan told him.
“Then they wouldn’t be my notes anymore,” Bell said. “I told you what I know.”
Dugan stepped forward and tapped Bell on the chest with his forefinger. “We can’t stop you from digging around but you’d better goddamn well keep us informed, pal.”
Bell grabbed the agent’s finger and twisted it backward before pushing it away. Rachel stepped forward and interrupted them, offering a folded piece of paper to Bell.
“Keep us all in touch. Here’s my cell number.”
Bell hesitated. He had her cell number, and so did the FBI and everybody else in the room. He glanced at the number and saw it was different than the one he had. He put the paper in his pocket.
“You find this woman, you’d better hand her over to us,” Sam told him. “I’m not sure I like the way you operate.”
“Well, we don’t have to impress each other,” Bell said. “I don’t care what you think of me. And, since I’m not a resident of Wyoming, you don’t care what I think of you.”
He noticed that Molly was smiling as he left the room.