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“It’s a small town,” Colin replied. “Everybody knows everybody in some way or another.”
“So, you did know her?” Nico pushed.
He shook his head, as dispassionate as if they were discussing the weather. “Not particularly. What I meant was everybody knows of everybody. Naturally, I’ve seen her around; at the market, community events, out for dinner with her family. But, no, Lieutenant, I didn’t know her.”
“When you saw her around town, did you happen to notice who she spent most of her time with, besides her family?” Frank asked.
Colin sat back, thinking. “Well, she was often joined at the hip with her best friend, Darcy, who I’m sure you’ve already spoken to by now.”
Frank bobbed his head. “We have.”
“Then there was the boyfriend—Logan, I think was his name.”
Nico shifted, sitting a little straighter at the valuable information. There had been vague mentions of a possible boyfriend in a few of their interviews, mostly just townsfolk speculating, but nothing solid like a name. Darcy had been surprisingly tight-lipped about it. Odd, considering her best friend was now dead and this mystery man—Logan—was nowhere to be found. For Nico, that automatically skyrocketed him to the top of the persons-of-interest list. But first, they had to find him.
“Isabelle’s parents never mentioned a boyfriend,” Frank gently coaxed.
“I should think not.” Colin chuckled. “The two were rarely seen together, but still gossip spreads like wildfire around here. It soon became common knowledge that the Moss’s did not approve of the relationship, Logan being a ‘bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks.’ I’m sure they were just trying to protect their late daughter’s reputation.”
“What’s Logan’s last name?” Nico asked.
“That, I can’t help you with, I’m sorry. He’s not exactly a member of this community. None of them are.”
“Them?” Nico prompted, though judging by a sidelong look at Frank’s face, he got the sense he knew exactly what—who—the taxidermist was talking about.
Colin paused; cup poised at his lips. “You haven’t heard about them yet?” At Nico’s telling silence, he sighed. “Let me preface this by saying that it’s second-hand knowledge at best. It all happened long before I came here.” Another lengthy pause. “There’s a handful of families—don’t ask me their names—who live up in the mountains here on the island. Off the grid. Very unfriendly. Logan belongs to one of those families. They come into town occasionally for supplies, or a drink at Wade’s bar when they’re in the mood for trouble, but mostly they just keep to themselves. Rumor has it, they were once a highly organized group of drug traffickers, growing their own marijuana up there and smuggling it across the Canadian border. I don’t know the specifics, but eventually, they were shut down. I’m told many of them ended up in prison or fugitives. The few that didn’t . . . Well, how Isabelle got mixed up with one of them, I’ll never know.”
Nico spared a peek toward Frank, asking, “You knew about this?”
Frank made a face that sat somewhere between discomfort and frustration, which Nico took as a yes.
Turning back to Colin, he asked, “How do we contact this Logan?”
“You don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly. “That’s the point.”
“Surely someone must know where to find them.”
“Perhaps. But that someone is not me.”
A few minutes later it became clear Colin Rowe had nothing more to offer, so the interview drew to a close. Frank flipped his notepad shut. Nico stood.
“So, you and Kate . . . You two aren’t together anymore?” Colin frowned, so Nico elaborated. “Well, you said she was a photographer. And that you were in love with her. I’m just wondering why you’re referring to her in the past tense.”
For a second, the room went silent. Colin’s eyes remained glued to Nico in a sort of stunned stillness, until he shook it off with a sad dip of his head. “You’re very observant, Lieutenant.”
“It’s my job to be.”
Colin cleared his throat and set his tea down, cup rattling atop the saucer. “No, we aren’t together anymore. She . . . she left. Quite a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Nico said.
Colin waved the apology away.
Frank extended his hand. “Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Rowe.”
“We appreciate it,” Nico added.
When they stepped back out onto the street, the sun was disappearing behind the surrounding buildings. A few shops remained open—restaurants and cafés and such—while the odd jogger took advantage of the cool, quiet evening.
