Page 103 of What She Saw
“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t be surprised. A guy like that can’t resist the temptation.”
“Was he dating anyone? Any friend who helped him?”
“I heard he was dating another girl. Young. A dancer.”
“Do you have a name?”
“No. But if you find her, you might get a few answers.”
Hours later in the dark, Taggart sat outside Colton’s house. The lights were on, and he heard music pulsing. He couldn’t identify the song, but it was rock.
Darkness wrapped around him as he watched Colton pass his front windows. Beer in hand, Colton appeared to be singing. He was havinga blast. No apparent worries about the wreckage of the festival or the three missing women.
Life was moving on for Colton.
Taggart flexed his right hand as his thoughts turned to Patty, Laurie, and Debra. One had come to the event to make money. One to make a name for herself. And the last for a much-needed break. Cassidy was right. He’d created the perfect event to hunt women.
Taggart pointed his finger at the window. “I’m going to get you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Sloane
Tuesday, August 19, 2025, 5:00 a.m.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. It was quiet in the woods. Only the sounds of wind, an owl, and maybe a bear pawing over the front porch. Through the canopy of trees, stars winked.
I’d been rereading the articles the press had written about the Mountain Music Festival. When Patty went missing, the media did not notice. When Laurie vanished, the world yawned. When Debra disappeared, everyone woke up. Three was a pattern. And stories spun around repetition.
Taggart held his press conference on a Sunday, nine days after the festival ended. One day after Taggart’s press conference, Brian Fletcher arrived at the police station to report his daughter Tristan missing.
Tristan Fletcher. The dancer. Cassidy Rogers had said Colton had been dating a young dancer. Colton had been around a lot of dancers in the music world. Maybe he liked them in general. Long, fit young bodies were hard to resist. Tristan had been at the festival handing out wristbands. She’d been nearby when Taggart had broken up a fight during the festival.
Two days after Taggart’s press conference, Mayor Briggs had insisted to a reporter the women would turn up.“Estimates placed two, maybe three thousand people at the event. People are bound to get lost in the shuffle. Of course, we are searching. And if any of these women hear this, please reach out to the Dawson sheriff’s office. Dawson is a peaceful town, and this festival was a celebration of life.”
The mayor was still spinning his positive story. He was a politician, and his job was to sell the town, but when did a positive outlook become negligence?
Nine days was a lifetime in the world of a missing person. Their golden hour had long tarnished.
My stomach was queasy, and I could feel energy building in me, as if a stopwatch embedded in my brain had sped up.Ticktock.Colton was getting out in twelve days, and I hadn’t found an answer.
After a quick shower, I dressed and drove into town. I picked up aspirin at the local drugstore across from the Depot.
As I approached the diner, I saw Paxton enter. Sheriff Paxton liked his routine. He worked Monday through Friday and ate his breakfast here Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I walked into the diner and took the seat next to Paxton in the back booth. When he glanced at me, he looked more annoyed than curious. “Still working on your article?”
“I am.”
Callie held up a pot of coffee, and I shook my head. “Soda?” she asked.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Coming right up.”
“Found out anything new?” Paxton asked.
“Hard to say.” I jostled a couple of aspirin out of the bottle into my palm. I swallowed them. “I stare and stare at my computer screen but don’t see the solution. All I need is the one critical piece, and it will come together.”
