Free Vanished - A Mystery (Dixon & Baudin Book 1) by Victor Methos Page B

following. The air outside smelled like factory exhaust. Not entirely unpleasant, but that could’ve been because Dixon was used to it now. He wondered if Baudin found it repellent.
    Once they had pulled out of the parking lot, Dixon rolled down the window and rested his elbow on the edge of the door. He’d spent most of his life in Cheyenne and wondered if that was why most people stayed. He couldn’t think of many people he knew growing up who had left. Almost his entire high school graduating class was right here, as was everyone he’d gone to church with as a child. His daddy used to say Cheyenne was the crib and grave of people born there.
    “Who’s your contact with the news?” Baudin asked.
    “Girl I used to date. We’re on good terms. She wants first release of anything going public, and if we get a collar she wants an interview in the holding cells with him.”
    “Did you agree to that?”
    “I would’ve agreed to a whole helluva lot more. Where else am I gonna go to get her face out?”
    “Did you post on any websites or blogs?”
    “Wouldn’t help. This isn’t LA, not yet. People out here still get their news from the TV. Few folks got Netflix or DVRs. They just watch whatever’s on.” He looked at Baudin. “How you likin’ it out here?”
    “It’s… different. Slower. But people are the same everywhere. That doesn’t change.”
    Dixon hesitated. “I’m havin’ some folks over for the game tomorrow. Two o’clock. You should come. My wife needs to meet you anyway.”
    “Your wife?”
    “Just… something she does. She needs to meet you.”
    “I’m not really good with the social stuff.”
    “Don’t matter. You gotta be there and be met. Otherwise I’ll catch an earful every day until you do. Bring your daughter, too.”
    “If you insist, I guess I can’t be rude.”
    They rode in silence until they were back out on the border of Laramie County and surrounded by desert and brush. The air was dryer out here and had a different smell. Dixon slipped on his sunglasses.
    “You don’t have any?” Dixon said.
    “Sunglasses? No, man. I like to see things as they really are, not filtered with that shit.”
    “Don’t hurt your eyes? All the sun?”
    He shook his head. “Sun’s natural. Sunglasses are not natural. You tell me which one poses the risk to my eyes.”
    The winding road up to McCabe’s property was empty, and they got there without seeing another soul. Baudin parked and got out. He went over to the intercom, glancing around the whole time, and pushed the call button.
    “Yes?” a voice came through from the other end.
    “Detective Ethan Baudin. I need access to your property again, Mr. McCabe.”
    A string of profanities came through the intercom before he said, “Can’t it wait?”
    “Afraid not, sir.”
    A few more F-bombs and then the gate clicked open.
    When they were riding up the dirt path, Dixon watched the way the trees moved with the wind. He’d never seen a painting really capture the bending and twisting to avoid being broken. He’d always thought it was like a beautiful dance. Hillary had wanted to move to bigger cities several times in their marriage, but he couldn’t imagine a day going by where he didn’t get to look at trees.
    “How you think it is people can live in the big cities?” he asked. “Didn’t you miss bein’ outside in LA?”
    “I got outside. There were palm trees and the ocean. Don’t really miss nature.”
    “You grew up there?”
    He nodded. “Born and raised. You?”
    “Cheyenne. My mom took off when I was young, and my dad worked at a factory making engine parts. Made twenty-five thousand a year, and we had a home, a car, and went on good vacations every year. Not to mention a full-time nanny. Can’t do shit on twenty-five grand now.”
    “People always degrade the present and elevate the past, man. It’s bullshit. World’s always been the same as it always is.”
    Dixon saw the home up ahead, and McCabe was