She said, “You haven’t found Bertram?”
“No, we haven’t.”
A glum smile. “I keep thinking, did I miss something? He was a bit unhappy when he first came here, but he seemed to be adjusting well.”
“That seems to be the consensus, although I’ve also heard from others that he wasn’t very social.”
“He has a few friends—the ones you talked to yesterday. Did they elucidate anything for you?”
“Just that he played video games.”
“A lot of the residents here play video games. It’s encouraged as therapy. Mastery and fine motor coordination.”
Decker nodded. “Some people mentioned that Bertram talked a lot about his girlfriend, Kathrine. Did he mention her to you as well?”
“He’s not dead, so he still has confidentiality,” Belinda said. “If he talked to other people about it, you can extrapolate.”
“Can you give me an idea of what you two spoke about?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Could you at least tell me if he ever spoke about running away?”
“He never spoke to me about running away. If we didn’t talk about it, I’m not breaking confidentiality. If he decided to leave, it was something impulsive.”
“Okay. That helps,” Decker said. “Any idea where he’d go if he ran away?”
“Probably back to his old facility, if I had to guess. As you can tell by your conversations with others, he probably missed Kathrine and his old friends. It doesn’t take deep psychological insight to figure that one out.”
“I heard he left his former residential facility because people thought it would be a good idea if he and Kathrine were separated.”
“There are a lot of rumors going around. I heard that one as well.”
“Do you give it any credence?”
“All rumors have a kernel of truth.”
“Do you know if sex was involved?”
“All rumors have a kernel of truth,” she repeated.
“Poor guy.” Decker thought for a moment. “He had cerebral palsy or some sort of birth defect, right?”
“Right.”
“CP doesn’t necessarily equate with mental disability, right?”
“Correct.”
“But in Bertram’s case, he had cognitive disabilities.”
“Yes.”
“In your opinion, how mentally disabled was he? Could you give me an age equivalent?”
“No, that whole thing is fallacious. I can’t tell you anything about Bertram specifically. But I’ll speak in general terms. Adult mentally disabled might be more advanced than let’s say a ten-year-old at some things and less advanced than a ten-year-old at other things. The delays become more pronounced as the individual moves on to more abstract learning.”
“Then let me ask you a general question. Do you think someone like Bertram could navigate his way back to his old home?”
A pause. “If someone gave him explicit instructions, he could probably follow them. But as I told you, he never talked to me about making an escape.” She regarded her watch. “I have someone in five minutes. It would be rude for you to see my client coming in. We try to keep things private.”
“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been helpful.”
The sad smile reappeared. “If I have been helpful, then maybe you can find him.”
“We’re doing whatever we can.”
“We all do our best,” Belinda said. “That’s the problem, Detective. Insight doesn’t always equal success.”
It was after two in the afternoon when Decker stepped outside to call Sergeant Quay at the Baniff Police Department. A few minutes later, the raspy voice came over the line. “Hello, Detective. What’s going on?”
“I’m at the Loving Care facility, interviewing staff. If Bertram Lanz left on his own, he’d probably need help. Elsie Schulung would be the logical person for him to go to. He seemed closer to her because she was German speaking. I think we should do a welfare check to make sure Bertram isn’t there.”
“If he left on his own and he’s a legal adult, there’s no grounds to go in.”
“The second option is she abducted him.”
“If you think that’s a possibility, I’d be inclined to break a lock and explain it later.” A pause over the line. “Any ransom notes?”
“No, but I don’t think he’s lost in the woods. We’ve gone over the area inch by inch. We’ve brought in dogs. We haven’t found anything. I think he had a planned rendezvous.”
“Why would he want to leave the home? Is there evidence of abuse?”
“Not at all. But he did have a girlfriend at his old residential-care facility. I’m thinking he ran off with her and Elsie was the go-between.”
“Why would she do that? Put herself at risk.”
“Bertram came from money.”
“Oh. Okay. You’re now saying that she helped him because he promised her money.”
“It’s a theory. I just want to make sure he’s not there.”
Quay said, “I can meet you at her place in an hour.”
“See you then.” Decker disconnected the line. Then he called McAdams. “Hey. Any luck with CCTV?”
“No sightings of Bertram, unfortunately. We got a little footage from CCTV at gas stations and rest stops along the main highway. But most of the area is rural. Plus, the images we did get are poor quality. But we’ll keep at it. I think there’s a truck stop ten miles away. I might try there. Anything on your end?”
“I’m going to swing by Elsie Schulung’s house. First thing I’ll do is look inside the garage and see if her car is there.”
“Did Quay get the make and model of Schulung’s car?” McAdams asked. “You said he was going to do that. Our next step is to go through the CCTV again and look for her car.”
“I’ll find out the information for you,” Decker said.
“If not, I can look it up.” McAdams paused. “Do you really think she’s involved?”
“I can’t think of anyone else who would help Bertram. She’s a long shot, but it’s all I have right now. What’s going on with our remains?”
“The lab is doing a complicated DNA replication test because the biological material is degraded and might be contaminated. Everyone’s being careful about an identification. But some preliminary results should come in this afternoon.”
“Great. I’ll be back tonight at around six, maybe seven. We’re thinking Thai.”
“Are you inviting me?”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll come.”
Baniff was a rural town consisting of a hundred-year-old city hall, small, individually owned shops, several schools, and a church on every corner. Schulung lived in a residential area not too far from Main Street, which cut the business district in two. Most of the houses were one story with brick and white-clapboard siding and a single brick chimney that peeked out from wood shingle roofs. The lots were small, and while some lawns were dewy green, others were turning yellow in the heat. Elsie lived on a quiet street shaded by oaks and elms in full leaf.