Free Devil's Run by Frank Hughes

same fate as Vail did.
    “Hey, Moyshe, can you do
me a favor?”
    “Sure.”
    “Can you bring up the
website in 1998?”
    “Absolutely.”
    His fingers flew across
the keyboard and soon we were looking at Epstein's website as it looked in
1998. Very different and very primitive, but he had already begun posting
electronic copies of his rants. There was no indication that the articles about
Vail's Blue Sky Basin expansion were pulled at any time, but that was a century
ago in Internet years. Perhaps he had been less cautious then, not to mention
the authorities would have been less likely to check such websites. Still, he
hadn't pulled the articles about the Washington State mansions that burned in
2007.
    I continued skimming the
articles Moyshe had printed, which focused on three specific developments in
Utah and Colorado, all being developed by companies based in Florida.
    “I’ll be damned,” I
said.
    “What is it?” said
Raviv.
    I handed him the
articles I'd been reading. “These are all rants about ski resorts in Utah and
Colorado.”
    “So? He produced a pair
of half-lens reading glasses with thin gold frames and began skimming the
articles.
    “One of them, The
Retreat at Diablo Canyon is right near Spanish Mountain.”
    “So?”
    “They had a fire around
the time Ken disappeared. And Jeffrey Boyd has a home at Spanish Mountain.”
    “It could be
coincidence. Many wealthy people own homes in Colorado.”
    “I don't like
coincidences. Epstein focused on these places, and Julie Nesbitt isn't the only
person in this case with daddy issues. Kids do the strangest things to get
their fathers to notice them.”
    “You're stretching,” he
said, absently, continuing to read. Suddenly, he frowned. “Then again, perhaps
you are not.”
    “What is it? What did
you find?”
    “The developer of The
Retreat, who is also the owner of Spanish Mountain, is Verdugo Properties.”
    “If you say so. Is that
supposed to mean something to me?”
    He looked at me over the
half lenses. “Jeffrey Boyd is outside counsel for Verdugo Industries, the
parent company.”
    “Really? Nice little
tidbit of information. I thought you said the type of corporate law he
practiced didn't matter.”
    “I was wrong.” He
shrugged. “It happens.”
    “Let's hope not too
often.” I thought for a moment. “Mrs. Nesbitt heard Julie saying someone was
financing a trip for Roger, probably Ken. He gets to strike a blow for mother
earth, impress the girl, and get back at Dad. The trifecta.”
    “But, as you Americans
like to say, things got out of hand.”
    I nodded. “The fire.
Perhaps he had second thoughts when reality hit. Arson. Domestic terrorism.
Attempted murder. Good reasons to destroy the evidence and cover his tracks. He
would be facing hard time.”
    “Why go into hiding if
he had successfully covered his tracks, as he appears to have done?”
    “I know. It doesn't
mesh.”
    Both of us were silent
for a while, thinking.
    “Assume Ken financed the
trip,” I said, “and they drove to Colorado in his van. We know the fire took
place. If we assume they started it, rather than some workman, something spooks
Ken. He returns to Washington, wipes his computer clean and details the van to
remove any forensic evidence.”
    “You are crediting him
with knowledge the average person does not possess,” said Raviv. “How many
college students would know to cleanse the vehicle and remove the air filter?”
    “Anyone who watches CSI,”
said Moyshe.
    “CSI?” said Raviv.
    “It’s a TV show,” I
said. “Stick with me on this. Ken and Julie decide to go into hiding. They
clean the van, take her laptop, and wipe his hard drive.”
    “With software he cannot
possibly possess. And why do they need to do it?”
    “Assume they planned the
trip on it,” I said. “Routes. Target information.”
    “Photos and maps,” said
Moyshe.
    “What are you saying
now?” said Raviv.
    “If I was planning to
hit someplace like that,” said