Page 44 of Beneath the Scars
“Huh. That seems a little strange that someone would be squatting out there but didn’t steal anything.”
“I suppose if they packed up, we may not be able to tell.”
“True.”
We’re quiet as we drive out of town. It’s not often we get cases like this. Most of the time, it’s kids vandalizing the side of a barn or a smash-and-grab. I’ll be interested to see what we find.
I runmy hands through my sweat-damp hair. “This literally looks like a campsite.” I move around the small stall, trying to take in every detail.
The horse barn had been empty for the last few weeks, as the last of Mr. Banner’s horses had been sold. It would’ve beenobvious to anyone who walked in that it wasn’t in use. There was barely any hay in the stalls, and it had all been scooped up into the one closest to the door. It was the biggest giveaway that something was amiss here.
“It’s been cleaned up,” Dad says. “Oddly respectfully.”
You can see where someone had lain in the pile of hay, as well as a small soot stain where a fire had been built. It had to have been a tiny thing, something that wouldn’t have drawn attention but would’ve provided a bit of comfort. It also could’ve warmed food if they had it. The ashes have been gathered into an old, beat-up bucket they must’ve found in the barn somewhere.
Mr. Banner steps forward. “That’s partly why I wasn’t sure if it was okay to call. It was obvious someone had slept out here, but they weren’t disruptive. Nothing at our house was disturbed, and there was nothin’ to steal out here.”
Dad palms the farmer’s shoulder. “It’s good you did. Now we can be on the lookout for someone in need of some help.”
“I haven’t heard anything around town,” I say.
“Me neither.” Dad shrugs. “But we can be a little more vigilant when we’re on patrols.”
“Should I leave a note asking them to come to the house if they need food?” Mr. Banner asks.
Dad smiles softly. “Wouldn’t hurt anything, although it’s highly unlikely they’ll come back. Especially when you start using the barn again.”
“I’ll leave one just in case, then. I’d rather it be wasted effort than them not know we want to help.”
The three of us clean out the pile of hay before sweeping up the bits of ash that didn’t get cleaned up the first time.
It only takes us about twenty minutes to finish before we’re back in Dad’s cruiser, headed toward the station.
“How could we have missed someone so destitute living in town?” I ask.
“It seems they don’t want to be found yet. We know most everyone around. Do you think any of them would willingly tell people they can’t afford to live anymore? It’s tough to get past your pride.”
“I’m glad they chose Mr. Banner’s farm instead of Calhoun’s.”
Dad grunts. “There’s usually a reason behind why people are assholes. Jerry doesn’t have one. He’s always been a shit.”
I can’t hold back my snort. Jerry Calhoun runs one of the tourist ranches just outside of town. He gives horseback riding sessions and rents small cottages on his property. He’s a snake in the grass, waiting for any opportunity to make more money. If he had found someone on his property who wasn’t supposed to be there, he would’ve had them arrested. It wouldn’t matter to him if the person needed help.
Dad tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but when he told us we’d have to pay extra to bring a group of foster kids from around the area for a fun day of riding horses, Dad gave up on the man. Calhoun said he didn’t trust a bunch of hoodlums around his property and told Dad he’d have to pay a liability charge for them.
It was the final straw on an already large pile of shitty behavior from him.
“How should we go about finding this person?” I ask as we pull into the station’s parking lot.
“As delicately as we can. Someone in our town is hurting, but they’re not ready to ask for help just yet. We don’t want to shame them for it, but we also need people to be on the lookout.”
“We can talk to the other deputies. Maybe if we update some of the businesses around town to keep an eye out, they can let us know if they see anyone.”
“It’ll need to be discreet. I don’t want anyone to feel called out.”
“So we’ll talk to Trish at Blossoms and Bows and Aunt Natalie too.” Carson’s mom, Natalie, runs Sonoma’s library. It’s the perfect place to go when you need to get out of the heat without spending money.
“That’s a great idea. Can you handle that?”
