Before He Envies Read online

  With that, she headed back for the gate along the fence with Timbrook following behind her. It wasn’t until they reached Timbrook’s car that the sergeant broke the silence between them.

  “You don’t think it’s worth taking him in?” she asked.

  “I don’t. Did you see how strongly he wrestled against telling us about his sister? If something like that was hard for him to divulge, causing him to get that upset, he would have showed much clearer signs of distress when we mentioned the names of the victims...if he was the killer, that is.”

  Timbrook smiled as she got back behind the wheel. “Where to next? If you can keep us away from the station, that would be great.”

  “Let’s head over to the recreational center at the park,” Mackenzie said. “I want to learn more about these climber groups and meet-ups. We’re pretty certain Mandy Yorke visited one. And if I had to place a bet, I’d wager that Bryce Evans at least checked one or two out as well. They both seem like loners, with no problem climbing alone. I wonder if the meet-ups would have appealed to them.”

  “Like a place to potentially meet other climbers to work with?” Timbrook asked.

  “Possibly.”

  That was enough for Timbrook. She pulled away from Lance Tyree’s house and headed back through town. Through the buildings, Mackenzie was able to catch fleeting glimpses of the mountains and as childish as it seemed, she started to think that those large, looming shapes might be plotting to keep her in town for good—away from Ellington, her son, and any hope of solving this case.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The woman at the welcome desk at the Grand Teton recreational park offices turned out to be the same woman Mackenzie had spoken to on the phone. Her name was Bonnie, and she was polite, cheerful, and more than determined to do the best she could to help. There was no one currently in the office, so the three women were able to speak amongst themselves right at the desk.

  “I’d like to know more about these climbing meet-ups,” Mackenzie told her. “What can you tell me?”

  “Well, here at the park, we organize a few every couple of weeks,” Bonnie said. “But honestly, those that show up are usually pre-teen boys—usually pushed to the meetings by parents that want to get them outside and away from their video games and phones.”

  “So the park itself doesn’t really organize meet-ups for older climbers?”

  “No. The closest we come are the occasional workshop with some of our instructors. But even then, it’s mostly novice climbers or those that haven’t really even started to climb yet.”

  “But you do get calls from the public about how to find climbing groups?” Timbrook asked.

  “That’s correct. And I usually end up directing them to Facebook. Or, sometimes, there will be fliers up there on the bulletin board.” She pointed to the right, where a large cork-style board was affixed to the wall. It was adorned with numerous papers, so many that most of the signs and fliers overlapped others a bit.

  “Thanks,” Mackenzie said, walking away from the desk and toward the board.

  There was almost too much information to take in. There was information for kids’ groups, sign-ups for a Keep the Park Green event, lost pet posters, Help Wanted ads, and fliers promoting the services of new climbing instructors. But then, in the middle of it all and partially buried under a flier for a live acoustic concert at a local pub, was exactly what Mackenzie had been hoping to find.

  A simple blue sheet of cardstock paper, with a message written in thick black magic marker, read:

  CLIMB TIME

  Rock-Climbers meet-up

  WHAT? - Come for Beer, Small Talk and Friends (but mostly beer)

  WHERE/WHEN? - The Cavalier, every Tuesday and Thursday evening, 6 – 8.

  Bring a cool climbing story and your first drink is on the house!

  “Today is Thursday,” Mackenzie said, pointing to the flier.

  “And it’ll be six o’clock soon,” Timbrook added. “You feel like going to a climber meet-up?”

  The comment held more weight than Timbrook knew. With Mackenzie’s suddenly resurfacing memories from her past, the idea of going to such a meeting wasn’t as ridiculous as it sounded. In fact, the deeper into the case they ventured, the more insistent those memories became.

  And Mackenzie wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

  ***

  The Cavalier was a trendy little bar with twenty beers on tap—half of which were local brews—and a separate wine bar toward the back. When Mackenzie and Timbrook arrived at 6:35, there were fewer than twenty patrons. There were only two tables holding what could be considered “groups.” One was a group of five people, dressed in office attire—the men dressed in button-down shirts and nice pants, the women in respectable tops and skirts. The other group was a trio of young women who looked barely old enough to drink.

  Timbrook nudged Mackenzie as they looked around, pointing to the large bar. There were a few people scattered around it, but Timbrook was specifically motioning toward a pair of men sitting at the far corner. They were both drinking pitch-black beers. One of them had a long, unkempt beard. The other wore a shaved head and a Patagonia tank top.

  “Is it considered stereotyping to assume they’d be climbers?” Timbrook asked.

  “You know the area better than I do,” Mackenzie said. “You tell me.”

  Timbrook did so by walking in their direction. Mackenzie let her keep the lead, knowing that locals would likely be more open to talking to a local member of law enforcement rather than someone with the federal government. She stayed a step behind Timbrook as she approached the two men.

  “Are either of you here for the climbers meet-up?” she asked.

  They both took a moment to take in the police uniform and then exchanged a strange look. The man in the tank top smirked and nodded. “Yeah. Is that…is that okay?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I was hoping to find out how these things work.”

  “Um…we just meet here and hang out,” the other man said. “Have a few drinks, get to know one another, things like that.”

  “If someone was looking for a partner to climb with, would this be the right place to come?” Mackenzie asked. She got the same skeptical eye as they’d given Timbrook, so she showed her badge. She did it quickly, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation. “I’m with the FBI…Agent White.”

  “Ah, is this about the two deaths?” the bearded one asked.

  “We’re just trying to look deeper into the sorts of things that might take place at these meet-ups.”

  “So it is about the deaths?”

  Timbrook hesitated, but Mackenzie stepped in. She knew that even if they did remain silent on their reason for being here, these two would likely tell their friends that the two deaths were exactly why a policewoman and an FBI agent had showed up. They’d make it their story, spin it, and start that local panic that Sheriff Duncan and his peons seemed to be so worried about.

  “Yes, we are looking into the recent accidents,” Mackenzie said. “Did either of you know them?”

  “I’d heard of Mandy Yorke,” the man in the tank top said. “But as far as I know, I don’t think I ever met her. She did a lot of competing—like competitive climbing. Never heard an ill word about her.”

  “Competitive climbing is big around here?” Mackenzie asked.

  “No, not really big. But it’s getting bigger. You guys seen that new documentary yet? Free Solo it’s called.”

  “No.”

  “It’s about this climber…goes right up the side of El Capitan out in Yosemite with no equipment, no ropes, nothing. It caused quite a stir…and there are lots of wannabes out there trying it out now. Not the free solo climbing, but just climbing in general.”

  For a sickening moment, Mackenzie tried to imagine scaling something like Logan’s View of Exum Rudge without any equipment. In her eyes, that would be suicide—and neither of them were as grand nor as tall as El Capitan.
r />   “How about you?” Timbrook asked the other man. “Did you know wither of them?”

  “Hell, I didn’t even know their names before I heard they’d died.”

  “How many of these kinds of groups are around here?” Timbrook asked.

  “A dozen or so, I’d guess,” Tank Top said. “On a good day, we’ll get six or seven to show up. We’re pretty casual. Just sitting, have a few beers, and talking about what climb we want to do next.”

  “Do any others draw bigger crowds?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I don’t know. I know there’s one for the older crowd. People in their forties and fifties, trying to get better at climbing before it’s too late, you know?”

  “Hold on, wait a second,” Bearded Guy said. “You know, there is this sort of informal group of climbers. I mean, I guess it’s not really much of a group. But every Saturday morning, you’ll see climbers scattered here and there around some of the more popular sites. Logan’s View is one of them.”

  “How about Exum Rudge?” Mackenzie said.

  “I don’t know for sure, but probably. Anyway, it’s basically these climbers that don’t have partners to go up with them. They sort of pair up, you know? Looking for lead climbers or just someone to spot them with ropes. I think it’s mostly new climbers that haven’t really made connections yet. But sometimes you’ll find an experienced one in the mix.”

  “You’ve seen this?” Timbrook asked.

  “Yeah, a few times.”

  “He’s right,” Tank Top said. “It’s nothing that’s advertised or anything. But yeah, I’ve witnessed it, too.”

  “So if someone wanted to climb but needed a partner, that would be the place to go? All climbers know about this?”

  “I don’t know about all, but I’d say anyone that keeps their eyes and ears open.”

  “You said Mandy Yorke was a competitive climber. Would someone like her show up to this little gathering?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Tank Top said. “No way to know, really. But if she was a competitive climber, there’s a good chance that some of the people that show up on Saturday mornings would probably be able to tell you.”

  Both of the men now looked a little uneasy. The man with the beard was looking into his beer as if he had suddenly grown very uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “These weren’t accidents, were they?” he asked.

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Mackenzie said. And with that, she thanked them both and walked away, back toward the door to the parking lot.

  As she and Timbrook crossed the lot toward Timbrook’s car, a thought suddenly occurred to her. If Mandy Yorke was involved in an affair with Malcolm Morgan and he had described her as something of an introvert, it seemed like one of the informal Saturday meet-ups would be just the right thing for her. There was no real connection there, no obligation to have to really open up to anyone. Suddenly, Mackenzie started to feel a strong hunch that Mandy had likely shown up to one of these Saturday morning things just based on what she knew of her personality.

  “Timbrook, we got the picture of Malcolm Morgan from Mandy’s phone. Do you know if anyone ever really dug deep into her phone? Or Bryce Evans’s for that matter?”

  “Yeah. But nothing more than what you did in order to find that picture of Morgan.”

  “Do you guys have a strong tech guy at the station?”

  Timbrook smiled at this, nodding. “We have one guy…and tech is really is only job. He’s not even an officer, really. His name is Tyler Molton. He helps with database management and security mainly. But yeah…in the past, he’s helped with getting into computers and things like that.”

  “Call him up, would you? I’d like for him to take a look at the phones. Laptops too, if we have them.”

  “We do have Bryce Evans’s laptop. But we never did find one that belonged to Mandy. Her roommate claimed she wasn’t even sure she owned one.”

  “That’s fine for now. I know it’s getting late, but would your tech guy happen to be at the station?”

  “No. He rarely ever is. He only comes in when he’s needed.”

  “Well, he’s needed.”

  Timbrook got out her phone and placed the call. As Mackenzie started out of the window, only half-listening to Timbrook’s conversation, she thought about Kevin. On the East Coast, given the time difference, he’d still be at home. Ellington would have picked him up from daycare an hour ago.

  Slowly, she felt that mommy-guilt she’d read so much about come creeping in. And although she knew she did not deserve to feel such a way, she could not deny the fact that her arms literally felt as if they were aching to hold her baby. It made her feel weak and vulnerable—feelings that also made her crave Ellington’s touch as well.

  Maybe this part of my life is over, she thought. Maybe I’m just trying to force this part of my life to be what it was before Kevin came along. Maybe I—

  “Agent White?”

  She snapped out of her wandering thoughts and looked to Timbrook. She looked at Mackenzie quizzically, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should or not. After a moment of silence, she finally said: “You okay?”

  “Yeah. There’s just…some things back home.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, Tyler is on his way to the station right now. He should be there in about fifteen minutes. And he’s all about speed. So maybe he can help us get you back home sooner rather than later.”

  Mackenzie gave her a forced smile, as Timbrook got back out on the road and headed back to the station. Mackenzie looked up at the darkening sky, recalling that old adage of how we are all under the same sky, regardless if it is day or night where you were currently sitting. She held on to that thought because in that moment, she felt that the sky might be the only thing connecting her to her husband and newborn son.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mackenzie found herself uplifted by a bit of comic relief when they arrived back at the station. When they entered, she saw Officer Waverly sitting with a kid in a black T-shirt and baggy pants. His hair was all over the place, partially standing up in the back and hanging down over his eyes. When he saw Timbrook come in, his eyes lit up (what Mackenzie could see of them anyway), and he brushed the hair out of his face.

  With the hair out of his face, Mackenzie saw that it was not some teenager as she had originally thought. The guy was at least twenty-one, maybe even a bit older. When he got up out of the seat, Waverly shook his head in mock disbelief while his back was turned.

  “Agent White,” Timbrook said, “I’d like for you to meet Tyler Molton.”

  Tyler saw the look astonishment in Mackenzie’s eyes right away and shrugged. “Hey, I get it. I get that reaction all the time. You a fed?”

  “Yes? And you are…what, exactly?”

  “An NSA dropout, believe it or not. I was well on my way but it got too damned stuffy. I’m not wearing a suit every day and having someone watch over my shoulder all the time, you know?”

  “Tyler grew up around here,” Timbrook explained, waving Mackenzie and Tyler around the bullpen area and to the back of the building.

  “Yeah,” Tyler said. “I had planned to move to New York and get some sort of sech security job. But my mom got sick so I moved out here again. Lined up some freelance work and decided to stay.”

  “He knows his stuff?” Mackenzie asked Timbrook.

  Before she could answer, Tyler responded. “I’m right here. I can hear you. And yes, I know my stuff. What is it you need?”

  “I need a full scan of a laptop and two iPhones. I need any contact information that might line up with our case, helping to generate some leads.”

  “What’s the case?”

  They were back in the meeting room Mackenzie had been using as a makeshift office of sorts. Timbrook closed the door behind them and filled Tyler in. He nodded along, his eyes intensely honed in on Timbrook as he listened to the details.

  “So you need me to do what exactly?” he
asked. Mackenzie knew he had followed along. He was just a little surprised, or so it seemed. Apparently, he felt that they needed him for something that he found overly simple.

  “We need you to sift through the Mandy’s and Bryce’s phones,” Mackenzie said. “We need you to check Bryce’s laptop, too. Check private files, social media, contacts, e-mails, calendars, everything you can access to possibly find out if either of them regularly climbed with a partner. For Mandy Yorke, we’re looking for partners other than Malcolm Morgan.”

  “When do you need it?” he asked, giving her a light grin. He was a cocky bastard, but Mackenzie was fine with that. If he felt he had a point to prove, he’d likely find results.

  “As soon as possible.”

  As if on cue, Waverly came into the room. He was carrying two plastic evidence bags, once marked Evans, the other marked Yorke. Yorke’s bag contained a cell phone and an iPad. Bryce Evans’s contained only a laptop. Waverly set them down on the table and gave Tyler a skeptical look, and then walked back out of the room. It was pretty evident that Waverly was not a fan of Tyler Molton.

  “Tyler,” Timbrook said, “make yourself at home. You know where the coffee and snacks are.”

  “Indeed I do,” he said, already reaching into Mandy Yorke’s bag for the phone.

  Timbrook gave a quick tilt of her head, gesturing for Mackenzie to follow her. Both women left the room, Timbrook closing the door and heading further down the hall. She stopped when they came to her office, ushering Mackenzie inside.

  Timbrook’s office was simple, yet quaint. It also revealed a lot about Timbrook as a person. From just the office, Mackenzie could tell many things about Sergeant Timbrook that she had not yet gotten around to asking. First of all, there were no pictures—not on the wall, not on the desk. That meant she likely had no family—no kids, anyway. This made sense, as Mackenzie had noted the lack of a wedding ring on her left hand within the first hour of having met Timbrook. The office also revealed that Timbrook was compulsively neat. Everything was in its right place, the surface of her small desk void of anything other than a laptop and a coffee mug filled with pens and markers. Even the old filing cabinets tucked in the back corner looked to be dust-free and well taken care of.