Page 48 of What She Saw
“I do.”
“And he’ll string you along with empty phrases and leads, like the music executives did with me.”
“That’s a risk. But I’m betting his upcoming parole hearing will put him on edge. Freedom is almost in his grasp, and he’s getting cocky. Pride is steps ahead of a fall, right?”
He shook his head. “He was a slippery son of a bitch.”
“Any angle I can use with him?”
“He still owes me five hundred dollars for that concert. Stiffed everybody who worked that event.” A long ash dangled from the edge of his cigarette. “Rafe Colton was all talk. And that couldn’t have changed.”
“Good to know, Joe. Thanks for talking to me.”
“For what it’s worth, I hope you find them. Laurie deserved better.”
“Thanks.” I walked down the back alley, bypassing the crowded bar. I wasn’t in the mood for people or loud noises. Already I craved the quiet darkness that surrounded Taggart’s cabin.
As I moved toward my car, I spotted Grant McKenna walking toward me. “The show is inside, not in the alley,” he said.
“I went inside. Joe Keller was out back taking a smoke break.”
“And?”
“He was happy to talk. But I still have a lot of random pieces, and the full picture escapes me.” I handed him the old photo of Joe and Laurie.
He studied it, shaking his head, before he handed it back to me. “Did you dig up any leads on possible accomplices for Colton? Taggart didn’t spend much time on the theory after Colton’s arrest.”
“I’ve looked. There were plenty who loved and followed Colton like a religious leader,” I said.
“The concert music was loud, and the sound would’ve given him cover to subdue and kill the women.”
“But no one heard or saw anything. Feels like a stretch. Unless another person lured them to a secluded location.”
The shadows deepened beneath his unshaven jaw. “Makes sense. But what happened to the bodies? The entire concert area was searched multiple times.”
“Maybe that same person loaded the bodies into a truck or trailer and drove it off the property after the concert ended.”
A restless pause, saturated with curiosity, settled between us. “How is it up at Taggart’s cabin?”
“Quiet. The man lived like a monk.”
“Cell service is for shit up there.”
“You’ve been there before?”
“Once or twice.”
I could imagine him in the living room, small kitchen, or bedroom. The area suited him. “Are you going to renovate the farmhouse?” I asked.
“Or tear it down. I’m more interested in the land.”
“It’s a couple of hundred acres, right?”
“Give or take.”
What we’d shared six weeks ago added some weight to the space around us. We’d had sex, but we weren’t lovers or friends. As tempting as it was to invite him back to the cabin, I didn’t need the distraction. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Watch the trespassing.” He paused. “I’ll be in the motel in Dawson.”
