Page 82 of What She Saw
“The Roving Rangers?” The band had broken up months after the Mountain Music Festival. Two of the three members had died, and the third was in his eighties and living retired in North Carolina.
“That’s right. They thought dancers would add interest to their performance. She begged me to let her go. She thought real-world stage experience would make her a better dancer.”
“But you said no.”
“I did. A festival like that promised nothing but trouble.”
“She lied and said she was visiting friends.”
He shook his head. “Yes.”
“Did she lie often?” I asked.
“She was a good kid.”
“But a kid. They do dumb things.”
He stilled. “They do.”
“Taggart interviewed a witness who possibly placed Tristan in the woods behind the venue with another victim. Her name was Laurie Carr.”
“I know who she is.” Mr. Fletcher shook his head. “Taggart asked me about her, but I never met her.”
“Tristan had just performed a routine onstage. Laurie had sung. They had a lot in common.”
“Maybe. Why do you care about my daughter?”
“I want to know her story. What drove her? What were her strengths and weaknesses?”
He stared at me, silent. I thought he wasn’t going to comment, and then he said, “Tristan called me on that last day. She told me she’d arrived at her friend’s house. She sounded so excited. It was her first real outing since her accident.”
“Accident?”
“She fell the year before. Broke her ankle bad. It had healed, and she was getting her strength back. She became depressed, and she was desperate to prove herself.”
Victims came in all shapes and sizes. Sinners, saints, and all those in between. “Did she mention any problems? Was anyone bothering or following her?”
“No. Everyone liked her.”
“Based on the festival timeline, Tristan’s performance was at ten. The band finished before eleven. What do you think she would have done after her performance?”
“I don’t know. But with all her other performances, she was always full of energy. It could take her hours to come off the high and refocus on the real world.”
I waited for him to explain, but when he didn’t, I chose not to push. “Did you ever speak to the band members about her?”
“No. I didn’t want to see or talk to them.”
His lack of curiosity struck me as odd. “Did they reach out to you?”
“The band leader, Brad. He called a few times. I let his calls go to voicemail. There was nothing he could say.”
“What about your wife? Did she have questions?”
“She was sick then. I tried to shield her.”
“May I look at the pictures on your wall?”
The question caught him off guard. “Why?”
