Page 4 of Peak Suspicion
“I hope you told her we don’t have a dog jail.” Travis leaned forward and reread the note. “We’ve had several calls from people who have received similar notes in the last few days. There are probably more we don’t know about. People don’t want to report their rule-breaking to us.”
“Are all the letters like this?” Gage asked. “Petty stuff that could even be a matter of misinterpretation?”
“Let’s see.” Travis consulted a notepad on his uncluttered desk. “A woman’s trash cans left out over twenty-four hours after trash collection.”
“That’s not against the law,” Gage said.
“No, but apparently it violates her home owner’s association rules. Another letter was sent to a man who, the note claims, routinely speeds on Fern Valley Road.”
“Everyone speeds on Fern Valley Road,” Gage said. “Something about that long, straight stretch of road is irresistible to some people, no matter how many tickets we write.”
Travis nodded. “Larry Yarborough was pretty upset about receiving a note that accused him of stealing from his employer. He swears it isn’t true. His boss confirmed Larry had permission to take some leftover construction material to build a playhouse for his kids.”
“We need to find out who’s sending these notes and have a talk with them about minding their own business,” Gage said. “They could be charged with harassment.”
“It would be difficult to prove a person was responsible unless they confessed.” Travis pushed the note aside. “We have bigger things to focus on. Someone tried to abduct an eleven-year-old boy yesterday evening, about eight o’clock. Shane took the call. The boy’s okay, but pretty shaken up.” He passed over the report.
Gage scanned Deputy Shane Ellis’s summary. “Not a lot of details to go on,” he said. “White SUV, slender person of medium height dressed all in black jumped out and tried to grab the kid.” He looked up. “The boy isn’t even sure if it was a man or a woman. They were wearing a hood and didn’t say anything, and fled when the boy fought back. Do we think he’s telling the truth? A kid might say something like this to get attention.”
“There were signs of a struggle where he said the attempt took place,” Travis said. “And Shane found a man who reported seeing a white car speeding one street over. The timing matches up. The boy has bruises on his arm with definite finger marks where someone grabbed him.”
Gage passed the report back over. “I’m glad the kid is okay. What was he doing out alone at that time of night?”
“He was walking home from a friend’s house at the end of the block. Before that, he and his friend were shooting hoops in the friend’s driveway. They both say they didn’t see anything suspicious.”
“This is the kind of thing that gives parents nightmares.” Gage thought of his oldest daughter, Casey. At nine, she was used to roaming the neighborhood with her friends. Even with his experience in law enforcement, he had been lulled into thinking their small town was safe. “Do we have anything else to go on?”
“We’re putting out a plea to the public on social media, warning parents to keep their kids close and asking for any information on the car or about anyone acting suspiciously,” Travis said. “I sent Jamie out to talk to every house in the boy’s neighborhood. We’re hoping someone will have seen something, or caught footage of the vehicle on their door cam.”
An Eagle Mountain native, Deputy Jamie Douglas probably already knew most of the people she would talk to. Most wouldn’t hesitate to share any information they had with the affable young woman.
“There are a lot of white SUVs out there,” Gage said. He took out his phone. “I’m going to send a heads-up to Maya. Casey doesn’t usually walk home alone but I don’t want today to be the exception.”
“I sent a bulletin to all the schools this morning,” Travis said. He picked up Gage’s note. “I’ll add this to our files, in case we find out any more about our mystery harasser.”
“Our letter writer would do better to pay attention to a real lawbreaker like this than concerning themselves with imaginary crimes,” Gage said.
“Are you okay,Mira?” Shayla put her hand on Mira’s shoulder as she passed her in the teacher’s lounge. “You look like you don’t feel well.”
So much for thinking concealer could hide the effects of a sleepless night. “I’m okay,” Mira lied. “Just a little tired. How about you? Any more anonymous notes?” She managed to ask the question without her voice shaking.
“No. I went home and walked the dog, then played with the cats. Whoever wrote that nasty gram is a pitiful loser, as far as I’m concerned.”
Mira wished she could dismiss her own note as easily. The door to the teachers’ lounge opened and she stepped aside to allow a man to enter. “Hello, Mitch,” Shayla said. Mira didn’t miss the lilt in Shayla’s voice as she addressed their fellow teacher, or the heightened flush of color beneath her dark brown skin. Shayla turned to Mira. “Have you met Mira Veronica? She’s the new Spanish teacher. Mira, this is Mitch Anders.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mira.” Mitch nodded at her. He was in his early thirties, with sandy hair, only a couple of inches taller than Mira’s five foot eight inches, with a lean build. Nice-looking, in a very clean-cut way. Shayla smoothed her hair and beamed at him. Maybe there was more than one reason she had parked near Mitch’s truck.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Mira said.
“Mitch, did you see anyone near my car when you left yesterday afternoon?” Shayla asked. “I was parked a couple of spots down from you.”
He considered the question for a few seconds. “No. I don’t remember seeing anyone. That part of the parking lot is usually pretty deserted. Why? Did someone do something to your car?”
“No.” She waved off the question. “It’s nothing.”
“Did you two hear about the message the sheriff’s department sent over this morning?” he asked.
“What message?” Mira’s heart pounded. Had someone called the sheriff and accused her of having something to do with David Ketchum’s disappearance?
