Bradley, Darby thought, straightening in her seat. The son of a bitch had changed his mind about giving them a free pass and decided to call the locals in Big Sky. That, or he had already planned this ahead of time, told them they’d be arriving in his KIA.
She had another thought, one that seemed crazy on the surface but wasn’t: Vivian was tracking Noel’s cell signal – not with high-tech government stuff but with one of those ridiculously cheap and simple apps or programs where all you needed to do was enter someone’s number and you could see on a map exactly where this person’s phone was, stationary or moving. Vivian saw where they were heading and called the locals for support.
But even if they had asked the police to get involved, the locals wouldn’t have been waiting for them to pull up to the lodge. They would have intercepted them at the bottom of the road or, preferably, somewhere along the highway, away from civilians – and they wouldn’t have brought along a fire truck or an ambulance, both of which she saw parked underneath the enormous flat roof covering the front entrance. There wouldn’t be crowds of people gathered outside, huddled together, their faces anxious as they spoke to one another, trying to figure out what was happening inside the lodge.
Noel pulled up against the far end of the walkway. Darby got out, saw a local cop heading their way to tell them to move. Noel already had his ID out.
‘What’s going on?’ Noel asked.
‘Don’t know, sir,’ the cop replied. ‘They told me to keep the area clear.’
The lobby wasn’t in total chaos but she saw guests and staff speaking in anxious whispers as police radios crackled, their attention locked on a corner to the right of the front desk, where Darby saw the two young girls who had checked her in the other night. The thin one with the mousy hair had her arms wrapped around her wool sweater, her face drained of colour as a patrolman spoke to her. The other patrolman standing there – taller and broad-shouldered and holding a notebook, his back to the crowd – was struggling to remain patient, waiting for the blonde chubby girl with the braces to stop her sobbing so she could answer his questions.
Noel flashed his ID to the big cop.
‘Body up on the roof,’ Big Cop said. ‘Maintenance man found him.’
‘Description?’
‘I don’t know any details.’
Access to the rooftop, the cop told them, was by the main elevator across from the reception desk. Darby entered it with Noel. When the elevator doors opened, Noel exited first, Darby followed a moment later, Noel already having turned right, toward the patrolman stationed by the emergency-access door leading into a stairwell. It was alarm-operated, Darby noticed.
Up two flights of stairs, her footfalls echoing inside the metal stairwell like small gunshots. She felt the cold air, heard it whistling above her; saw her breath steaming as she reached the final set of stairs, the outside voices growing louder.
The roof was flat and made of gravel. Darby heard the stones crunching underneath her boots as Noel, far ahead of her, raced across the rooftop, toward the cops, firefighters and EMT workers gathered on the platforms ten to fifteen feet above them, their flashlights crisscrossing through the darkness. She saw four platforms, one for each water cistern.
A ladder was mounted against a wall in front of her.
The man in charge was the one who was plainly dressed: bald, fifties, a potbelly bulging underneath a winter coat. Darby recognized him from the Bozeman office but had forgotten his name.
Noel didn’t flash his ID. He looked at the man and said, ‘Deputy Chief Davies.’
‘Agent Covington.’ The man’s gaze cut back and forth between Noel and Darby. ‘What brings the two of you here?’
‘I was just about to ask you the same thing,’ Noel said.
‘Big Sky is a part of Gallatin County, which gives me jurisdiction. Your turn.’
‘We’re looking for a missing Federal agent.’
‘That business in Fort Jefferson?’
Noel nodded. ‘Dr McCormick is a friend of Agent Cooper. She’s staying here, at the lodge. I was dropping her off.’
‘And what happened between the two of you in Bozeman is, what, just water under the bridge?’
‘It was a misunderstanding. Where’s the body?’
‘Cistern Number Two. Guests were complaining about low water pressure and black water in taps and showers, and the maintenance man came up to investigate.’
‘Can I see the body?’
Davies considered the question. ‘You promise to share?’
‘You’ve got my word,’ Noel said.
‘Okay, then,’ Davies said, and offered Noel his flashlight.