And this is part of the very long story

"And this is part of the very long story?"
Both Giles and Weshler nodded. Keith suggested the doctor contact the doctors at St. Francis Hospital in Topeka, and perhaps the little group could devise a plan for dealing with Travis Boyette.
"Where is he now?" Weshler asked.
"He's in a small ward on the third floor," the doctor said.
"Could we see him?"
"Not now, he needs to rest."
"Then could we station ourselves outside the ward," Giles said. "We anticipate this man being charged with murder, and we have orders to secure him."
"He's not going anywhere."
Weshler bristled at this, and the doctor sensed the futility of arguing. "Follow me," he said. As they began to walk away, Keith said, "Hey, fellas, I'm free to go, right?"
Weshler looked at Giles, and Giles studied Weshler, then both looked at the doctor. Weshler said, "Sure, why not?"
"He's all yours," Keith said, already backing away. He left through the ER entrance and jogged to his car in a nearby parking garage. He found $6 in his dwindling cash reserves, paid the attendant, and gunned the Subaru onto the street. Free at last, he said to himself. It was exhilarating to glance over at the empty seat and know that he, with luck, would never again be near Travis Boyette.
Weshler and Giles were given folding chairs and took their positions in the hallway by the door to Ward 8. They called their supervisor and reported on Boyette's status. They found some magazines and began killing time. Through the door, there were six beds, each separated by flimsy curtains, all occupied by people suffering from serious afflictions. At the far end, there was a large window that overlooked a vacant lot, and next to the window was a door the janitors used on occasion.
The doctor returned, spoke to the troopers, then stepped inside for a quick check on Boyette. When he pulled the curtain by bed 4, he froze in disbelief.
The IVs were dangling. The bed was neatly made with a black walking cane across it. Boyette was gone.
Chapter 32
Robbie Flak and his little team stood by and watched the circus for two hours. Not long after the sheriff arrived and saw that there was indeed a grave site, Roop's Mountain attracted every cop within fifty miles. Local deputies, state troopers, the county coroner, investigators from the Missouri State Highway Patrol, and, finally, a crime scene expert. Radios squawked, men yelled, a helicopter hovered overhead. When the news arrived that Boyette had vanished, cops cursed his name as if they had known him forever. Robbie called Keith's cell phone and passed along the news. Keith explained what had happened at the hospital. He could not imagine Boyette being physically able to go far. They agreed that he would be caught, and soon.
By 2:00 p.m., Robbie was tired of the scene. He had told his story and answered a thousand questions from the investigators, there was nothing left to do. They had found Nicole Yarber, and they were ready to return to Slone and face a multitude of issues. Bryan Day had enough footage for a miniseries, but would be forced to sit on it for a few hours. Robbie informed the sheriff that they were leaving. The caravan, minus the Subaru, worked its way through the traffic until it was back on the highway and headed south. Carlos e-mailed dozens of photographs to the office, as well as the video. A presentation was being put together.