Ridiculous. She was, after all, a woman of science and proof. And yet ...
Pescoli, bundled in her jacket and hat, poked her head into Alvarez’s office. “I’m heading home for a while. Gotta check on my rogue children.”
“You coming back in?”
“Tonight?” Pescoli asked. “Maybe. Depends on the situation at home. Bianca and I have been two ships passing in the night and that’s not good.”
“And Jeremy?”
“MIA for the most part. I’m trying to give him his ‘space,’ ” she added, making sarcastic quote marks with her fingers, “but I’m kind of sick of it. His ‘space’ really means for me to butt my nose out of his business, even though he’s living at home and not really contributing. I’m thinking it’s time for an attitude adjustment talk and some changes. It’ll be a new year soon.” She wound her scarf around her neck and tried to tie it. “Kids,” she muttered under her breath before looking up sharply. “Oh, by the way, our buddy, Preacher Mullins?”
“Mmm?”
“Not so lily white.” Frustrated with the scarf, she let it hang unknotted. “Got himself into a little trouble down in Arizona, got caught in bed with one of the parishioners, who just happened to be eighteen at the time. Her father screamed bloody murder, but Mullins, because the girl was legal, was just sent packing to a new flock.”
“And that would be here,” Alvarez guessed.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She fiddled with the scarf a little more and finally secured it in a basic square knot. “I guess Calvin shouldn’t be the first one to throw stones. Glass houses, and all that.”
“You think the dad in Arizona would come up here and kill someone, set them in a block of ice, just to get back at Mullins?”
“Nope. But it does give me pause. What other trouble do you think the good preacher has gotten himself into? Then there’s that winter festival in Missoula next week. Guess what one of the displays is going to be?” Before Alvarez could answer, she said, “Ice sculpture. Think that’s a coincidence? Think we should check out the ‘artists.’ ” She grimaced and a moment later her cell phone buzzed. Plucking it from her pocket, she glanced at the screen. “Aaah. The prodigal daughter, wanting, yet again, to go over to a friend’s.” After sketching out a quick text response, she added, “Not happenin’. Not with another storm predicted. Besides, tonight is family dinner night and we’re all going to be there, at the house, together. Even if it kills us!”
Dylan O’Keefe was waiting for her.
As Alvarez was walking toward her Outback parked on the street, O’Keefe emerged from his vehicle.
Great. Just what she needed after a long, exhausting day of getting nowhere. “You’re making a habit of this,” she pointed out.
“Guilty as charged.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
“Yeah.” His boots crunched in the frozen snow as he approached her car.
“You find my dog?”
“Not yet.” His nose was red with the cold.
“What about Reeve?”
“Gone to ground.” He looked disturbed. “You talked to the Helena PD?”
“Yeah.” She was nodding as she found her keys in her purse. God, it was cold and Pescoli was right. Another storm had been predicted for this part of the state, with talk of another foot of snow. Just what they needed! “I confirmed everything you told me and tried to get more information from them, told them the sheriff’s department here would work with them.”
“And?”
“And they were glad; maybe not so high on your input, being as you’re a private citizen and all.”
“I found him, didn’t I?”
“But you lost him.” She unlocked the car and waited, hoping she would learn something more about the boy, if not her dog.
“I was thinking you might have an idea where he might turn.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because it seems as if he targeted your house.” He was staring at her in the darkness and she wanted to lie to him, to tell him that she had no idea why the boy might have chosen her place to break into, but that might not help things. Aside from her, Gabriel Reeve had a family who was worried sick about him.