The Colorado Kid

14

Vince Teague dumped what looked to Stephanie like half a carton of Half ’N Half into his, then went on. He did so with a rather rueful smile.

“All I’m trying to say is that I sort expected a pale and darkhaired beauty. What I got was a chubby redhead with a lot of freckles. I never doubted her grief and worry for a minute, but I sh’d guess she was one of those who eats rather than fasts when the rats gnaw at her nerves. Her folks had come from Omaha or Des Moines or somewhere to watch out for the baby, and I’ll never forget how lost n somehow alone she looked when she came out of the jetway, holdin her little carryon bag not by her side but up to her pouterpigeon bosom. She wasn’t a bit what I expected, not the lost Lenore—”

Stephanie jumped and thought,Maybe now thetelepathy goes three ways.

“—but I knew who she was, right away. I waved and she came to me and said, ‘Mr. Teague?’ And when I said yes, that’s who I was, she put down her bag and hugged me and said, ‘Thank you for coming to meet me. Thank you for everything. I can’t believe it’s him, but when I look at the picture, I know it is.’

“It’s a good long drive down here—no one knows that better than you, Steff—and we had lots of time to talk. The first thing she asked me was if I had any idea what Jim was doing on the coast of Maine. I told her I did not. Then she asked if he’d registered at a local motel on the Wednesday night—” He broke off and looked at Dave. “Am I right? Wednesday night?”

Dave nodded. “It would have been a Wednesday night she asked about, because it was a Thursday mornin Johnny and Nancy found him on. The 24th of April, 1980.”

“You justknow that,” Stephanie marveled.

Dave shrugged. “Stuff like that sticks in my head,” he told her, “and then I’ll forget the loaf of bread I meant to bring home and have to go out in the rain and get it.”

Stephanie turned back to Vince. “Surely hedidn’t register at a motel the night before he was found, or you guys wouldn’t have spent so long calling him John Doe. You might have known him by some other alias, but no one registers at a motel underthat name.”

He was nodding long before she finished. “Dave and I spent three or four weeks after the Colorado Kid was found—in our spare time, accourse—canvassin motels in what Mr. Yeats would have called ‘a widenin gyre’ with MooseLookit Island at the center. It would’ve been damn near impossible during the summer season, when there’s four hundred motels, inns, cabins, bedandbreakfasts, and assorted rooms to rent all competing for trade within half a day’s drive of the Tinnock Ferry, but it wasn’t anything but a parttime job in April, because seventy percent of em are shut down from Thanksgiving to Memorial Day. We showed that picture everywhere, Steffi.”

“No joy?”

“Not a bit of it,” Dave confirmed.

She turned to Vince. “What did she say when you told her that?”

“Nothing. She was flummoxed.” He paused. “Cried a little.”

“Accourse she did, poor thing,” Dave said.

“And what did you do?” Stephanie asked, all of her attention still fixed on Vince.

“My job,” he said, with no hesitation.

“Because you’re the one who always has to know,” she said.

His bushy, tangled eyebrows went up. “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.” And she looked at Dave for confirmation.

“I think she nailed you there, pard,” Dave said.

“Question is, is ityour job, Steffi?” Vince asked with a crooked smile. “I think it is.”

“Sure,” she said, almost carelessly. She had known this for weeks now, although if anyone had asked her before coming to theIslander, she would have laughed at the idea of deciding for sure on a life’s work based on such an obscure posting. The Stephanie McCann who had almost decided on going to New Jersey instead of to MooseLookit off the coast of Maine now seemed like another person to her. A flatlander. “What did she tell you? What did she know?”

Vince said, “Just enough to make a strange story even stranger.”

“Tell me.”

“All right, but fair warning—this is where the throughline ends.”

Stephanie didn’t hesitate. “Tell me anyway.”