Page 82 of Shadowed Witness

“I asked what happened to Marco.”

Sam’s lip trembled. “They killed him. He didn’t mean it though—didn’t want anyone to die. He told me. He just put too much in, and then it was too late. But the big guy didn’t care. He had Bernie call him in, and then—” His voice cut off in a sob.

“And then what?” Eric made a mental note of the new name, but he didn’t write it down. If Sam realized he’d slipped up, he might stop talking.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Head swaying back and forth, Sam attempted to screw the cap back on his bottle, but it spun off and skipped across the table.

Eric snatched it before it hit the floor and returned it to the man. “Sounds bad. How’d you find out about him?”

“They videoed it.” The words escaped in a hoarse whisper. “Sent it to us all as warning.”

That was a surprise. There was a video of this murder floating around? Allye hadn’t mentioned anything to that effect. Did that mean this was a different murder after all? Or had she just not noticed the camera or phone? She had seen another man in the shadows, so it was a possibility he could have been filming.

“When did this all happen?”

Sam touched his thumb to his index finger, the middle, then the ring finger as if counting. He repeated the motions, then shrugged. “Couple days ago? I dunno. Time’s just a blur sometimes.” He launched into a ballad about quickly passing time.

Eric didn’t recognize the song, but that didn’t matter. He was done here. He used his phone to snap Sam’s photo, then stopped the recording and passed the man back to Vernon’s care. It was late enough, Sam would spend the night in the holding cell. Tomorrow he’d be transferred to a neighboring county since theirs didn’t have a jail.

After settling at his own desk, he texted Allye the photo with the words “Recognize him?” He was pretty confident Sam was not her attacker, but it would be foolish not to at least confirm.

While he waited for her response, he ran a search for a Marco Stevens or Stevenson in the area. He got a couple of hits in the driver’s license database, but only one fell within the age range of their John Doe. He pulled that one up first. Despite the condition of the body they’d found, he could see the resemblance.

His phone buzzed with a text from Allye.

Sorry, no

That was the answer he’d expected. He sent her a thanks, then returned his attention to the screen. He pulled up a picture of the victim and compared them side by side. They’d have to do comparisons, maybe call in family to see if they could identify him, but Eric would bet this was the same guy.

With that done, he put in an electronic request for a warrant to search Sam’s phone and computer, if the man had one. Hehit send, then moved on to transcribing his thoughts from the interrogation while it was still fresh in his mind. Sam hadn’t given him as much information as he’d hoped for, but he had a few leads and some names. It had been well worth coming in.

He leaned back in his chair. He needed a plan for tomorrow. If nothing happened to disrupt his morning, he’d start by listening to the recording with fresh ears and make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he’d see about finalizing their victim’s identity. Hopefully by then, he’d have the warrant to search Sam’s devices. Finding that video—and the sender—would be gold. He just might be able to solve this case before anyone else got hurt.

36

Friday morning at Wool Fest,Allye straightened a few of the photos she’d spread across the front table of her booth. She frowned, then tilted some of them. Better.

She grabbed her backup camera and took a picture, then stood back and surveyed the finished setup. Despite how far behind she’d felt over the last several months, she’d managed to put together a good display. She smiled. No, she hadn’t made it back to her studio to print the extra postcards from her new photos, but there were still plenty to choose from.

The larger prints and canvases depicting local nature and places of interest would be the big draw—along with the hand-knitted projects scattered tastefully among the artwork. For now, each knitted piece was carefully placed where its color scheme would best complement the surrounding photos. That would be short-lived once festivalgoers began picking through her offerings, but she didn’t mind.

She checked the time. The festival didn’t officially open for another hour, but anticipation was high among the vendors. Shows like this could be hit or miss on immediate profitability, but they didn’t do it just to make a buck. They did it because they loved their craft and the excitement and camaraderie of the festivals.

Allye shared that sentiment, although this was the only area festival that she regularly participated in. She’d probably still set up regardless of whether she recouped her costs, but she always made at least that much. And she usually booked a few photo shoots that resulted in repeat customers. All in all, it was worth her time and effort.

She moved behind the table and lowered herself into the lawn chair she’d brought. Normally, she’d take this extra pre-festival time to greet the other vendors in her tent and admire their handiwork, but her own setup had drained her. Perhaps if she rested for a bit, she’d find the energy to make her rounds before the first festivalgoers arrived.

And if not? She frowned as she reached for the extra-large knitting bag she’d packed for today. She didn’t like not knowing her limits and abilities anymore. But she wasn’t going to let anything ruin her day—not her health, not the danger stalking her, not the emotional baggage from yesterday. She was going to enjoy this festival if it killed her.

She pulled out her current project. The fingerless glove, second of the pair, was nearly finished, but she’d come prepared. Before leaving this morning, she’d stocked her bag with several sets of needles and a variety of yarn so she’d have options to choose from after completing the gloves. She hoped to make it to the Wool Tent later and browse the selection of naturally dyed yarns too.

The first couple of hours of the festival passed in a blur, and Allye was glad she’d taken the time to rest. By midafternoon, she was ready for a nap. But she was enjoying herself enough that she didn’t mind.

After placing another handful of postcards on the table to replace the last dozen sold, she took a few moments to stretch before returning to her seat. Her phone vibrated, and she glanced at it. There was a missed call and a text, both from Eric. She frowned. She still wasn’t sure what she ought to feel toward him since his apology, but she hadn’t intentionally ignored him thistime. The phone just hadn’t rung. Reception was always spotty out here near the state park. She checked the text.

Forensic artist coming back early. Can you meet with him Sunday?

Before she could answer, a second text came through.

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