Page 29 of So Far Gone

Chuck turned to Kinnick. “Do you know this Doug’s last name?”

Rhys nodded.

Chuck turned back to Anna. “Did Bethany ever say that she felt physically threatened, that she worried Shane might harm her?”

“No, no.” Anna shook her head. “Nothing like that. She always said he was a good father, and a good husband, and, honestly, I think he adores her. He just keeps getting deeper and deeper into this church, into conspiracies. Guns. I think all Bethany wants is to go back to Oregon, get the kids back in school, and try to get Shane to ease up on the crazy. I suspect that’s why she wanted Mr. Kinnick to watch them while she got some things in order.”

Kinnick’s head slumped in defeat. One job and he couldn’t even do that.

“Did she have her own car?”

“No,” Anna said. “That’s one of the issues. They just had the pickup, and Shane has that. Maybe she took the bus somewhere?”

Or someone picked her up, Kinnick thought. Or— He thought again of Asher’s terrifying comment.

Chuck asked: “Does she have any other friends we might call?”

“I’m sure she does, but I wouldn’t know. They just moved here afew months ago. We’d see each other around the apartment complex, and we just started talking, especially after her mother died. We talked about our marriages, jobs she might find around here, about our moms. She was becoming increasingly unhappy, I think. She talked about these panic attacks she’d been having.”

Each detail stung Kinnick. He should’ve been here for his daughter.

Chuck handed over his little pocket notebook. “I assume you have Bethany’s phone number. Can I get you to write that down for me?”

Another sting: Kinnick didn’t even know his own daughter’s phone number.

“Sure,” Anna said. She pulled up the number on her phone. “I’ve tried calling a bunch of times. Goes straight to voicemail. Like her phone is turned off.” She handed the pocket notebook back to Chuck. Kinnick looked over the ex-cop’s shoulder, as if seeing his daughter’s number now might make up for his absence.

Chuck wrote his own phone number on a piece of paper, passed it over, and said to call if she saw or heardanything. Anna reached out and squeezed Rhys’s hand. “Good luck, Mr. Kinnick,” she said. “Those kids are so smart and sweet. It’s like they’re from another time, you know?”

Kinnick did know. He swallowed and nodded.

“I hope you get them back.”

They walked quietly back to the truck, Chuck tapping Bethany’s phone number into his own phone, and handing it to Kinnick. Immediately: “You’ve reached Bethany Collins...” Her voice another lump in his throat.

“Straight to voicemail,” Kinnick said, and he handed the phone back to Chuck, who opened his email and read the latest information his office had sent over.

“No shit,” he said. “Oh man! I know where this is!”

He looked up from his phone to Kinnick.

“What?” Kinnick asked.

“Your guy Dean Burris is living at this pastor’s compound in Idaho. RealDeliverancevibes up there. They call it the Rampart.”

“My grandkids talked about that.”

“House, chapel, bunkhouse for ten guys, broken-down cars and farm equipment. I had to serve some legal papers up there for one of our lawyers once. A land dispute. Up in the woods where these half-assed militia nuts train. I said, ‘What are you training for? Is douchebaggery a sport in the Olympics now?’ Nah, if this Burris took your grandkids up there, that’s fucked-up.” Chuck looked over. “You got the letter your daughter sent?”

Kinnick patted his pants pocket. “Yeah.”

Chuck made a humming noise. Then he chewed his lip again. “It might take a week to track your daughter down. Find this old boyfriend in Portland, see what he knows. And then we’d still need lawyers to draw up papers. Might take weeks.

“Or...” Chuck stuck out his lower lip. “You know what? What if we say ‘fuck it.’ I know a guy who knows the sheriff up there. What if we just drive there now. Put our cards on the table and see if those assholes fold. You in?” He put his fist out.

There would be no Epictetus quotes this time. Kinnick simply nodded and bumped Chuck’s fist. “Let’s do it.”

***

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