She chuckled. “And who said I was a lady?”

Marco laughed again and I shot him a grin. He had a nice laugh, rich and warm, and it had a way of making you feel included in a joke but never the butt of it.

When had I become such an expert on Marco’s laugh?

“So,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes twinkling. “I hear you’re one of the experts on this place.”

Her chest expanded and she looked inclined to start strutting around like a peacock. “Some people say that.”

“I need information on one of the new employees.”

A scowl crossed her face. “Shane Jones.”

“That’s the one.”

“I don’t know a whole lot about him,” she admitted. “He’s only worked here a few weeks, but he’s a menace. Like I told your girl, he’s been stealin’ things, and the staff won’t do anything about it.”

“Well, maybe I can help with that,” Marco said. “But first I need the scoop on him.”

“You’re wanting to look at his employment file,” she said with a sly grin.

Marco rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Perhaps. And if I was lookin’ for it, where do you suppose I might find it?”

“You’d think it would be on a computer,” she said in disgust, “but this damn town is stuck in the Dark Ages.”

“So new hires fill out a paper application?” Marco asked.

“Yep.”

“And where do they keep those?”

“Office down in the west wing,” she said. “And good thing for you that no one uses it on Sunday afternoons.”

“Lucky for me indeed.”

“But the door’s locked.” Gladys glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “What’s a key worth to you?”

Marco released a short laugh. “Gladys, you’re quickly becomin’ my new favorite person.” Then he winked at me. “Sorry, Carly.”

I grinned back. “Hey, priorities.” I pulled one of the puzzles out of the bag in my purse and slid it across the table to her as if it were a hundred-dollar bill. It was a 1000-piece puzzle of a mountain.

She slid the box over to her. “Got any more of these?”

I took out another 1000-piece puzzle of a still life with a ceramic water pitcher and fruit.

She reached into a pocket of her pants and pulled out a key, setting it on the table. “This is a master and gets into everything.”

“You just carry it around with you?” Marco asked in disbelief.

“This place is boring as shit,” Gladys said. “Sometimes we like to get into things.” She held his gaze. “Like the employee lounge. That has lockers.”

“And where might those be?” he asked in a conspiratorial tone.

“Next to the office.”

Marco put his hand over the key and picked it up. “Carly, wait here.”

I leaned over next to his ear. “Wouldn’t it be less noticeable if I search?” I asked quietly. “You’re bound to attract attention on your crutches.”

“But if I get caught, I’m fairly certain I can talk my way out of it,” he said. “I might be on medical leave, but I’ve still got the badge.”

Reluctantly, I agreed.

He got up and moved down the hall, leaving me to stew in my nerves.

“Let’s open a new one,” Gladys said, her eyes lit up with excitement, and I felt bad that I’d used the puzzles as a bribe. I should have just given them to her. I used an ink pen in my purse to break the seal on one of them while Gladys swept the old pieces of the bridge puzzle into the well-worn box. We’d spread all the pieces on the table and had started sorting out the edge pieces by the time Marco returned about ten minutes later.

He set the key on the table and gave Gladys a slow nod. “Thank you.”

“You gonna get the bastard?” she asked.

“I sure as hell plan to,” Marco said, his voice gruff.

“Then go get ’em, Deputy Roland,” she said with a sly grin. When surprise washed over his face, she said, “I read the papers.” She shot me a glance too. “Now go get the bastard.”

I got up and started to leave, unnerved that she’d known who he was and hadn’t let on.

Marco and I were both silent as we left the building, but when we reached the parking lot, I looked around. No one was watching us, so I asked, “You find what we need?”

“Yep. Address. Phone number. Emergency contact. Employment history. I made copies of it all. It’s in my pocket.”

“He was working here under an assumed name. You think he gave them real information?”

“One way to find out.”

We got inside the SUV and Marco pulled several folded papers from his pocket. Glancing at the top one, he plugged an address into the Explorer’s navigation system.

“Are we headed to Charlie’s house?”

“We’re gonna do a drive by and go from there.”

“Why’d you put his address into the maps when coverage is so spotty?”

He shot me a grin. “It’s spotty with a cell phone, but the car uses satellite.”

Like Bingham’s satellite phone. I considered mentioning that to Marco, but Bingham clearly made him uncomfortable. He’d be pissed if he knew I’d offered him information. Instead, I grabbed the photocopies and looked them over. Charlie had a Ewing address, but the street was listed as County Road and the navigation system said it was fifteen minutes away.

“Rural address?” I asked.

“Yep.”

We were both silent as Marco drove out of Ewing and up a mountain road, passing only a few houses, most of them run-down and abandoned. Finally, the GPS said we’d arrived, but there weren’t any houses within view—only an entrance to a private lane that was blocked by a gate with a sign that said, No Trespassing.

“I don’t like this,” Marco finally said, his hands gripping the wheel.

“Can we get the gate open?” I asked, but then I realized it was locked with a heavy metal chain and a padlock. “Do you have bolt cutters? Or can you pick the lock?”

He stared at the gate, a wide array of emotions flitting across his face. Anger, frustration, worry. Fear.

“We can’t do that.”

Outrage exploded in my head. “What do you mean we can’t?”

“Even if I had the means to open that gate, we can’t go down that lane. Not with the No Trespassing sign.”

“But you’re a sheriff’s deputy!”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, Carly!” he shouted.

“What if they’re down that road, Marco?” I choked out, pissed that I was close to tears again.

“I know, goddammit, but we still can’t go down there. I’ve got no probable cause.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Marco?”

He turned to me in frustration. “It’s all circumstantial, and on top of that, this isn’t an official investigation.” He slammed the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. “Dammit!”

We sat there, his car stopped on the two-lane county road, both of us breathing heavily as we tried to rein in our emotions.