13. Chapter 13 #2
I forward the photographs to McCall. The man’s face is visible in profile, clearer than in any of our security footage. Facial recognition is not available to my company, but the deputies can circulate the image within their department and compare it with known offenders.
My phone vibrates again. This time, Wade’s name appears.
“We found their vehicle,” he says when I answer. “Silver sedan in overflow. The woman entered through the passenger side. Driver stayed below the camera angle.”
“Plate?”
“Obscured with mud, except the last two characters.”
“Convenient.”
“She got out of the sedan before making the call, but the car never left.”
“Where is it now?”
“Still in the lot.”
The information changes the situation.
“If it’s still there, she may be back inside.”
“Or the driver left on foot.”
“Put eyes on the vehicle. No approach. Send McCall the location.”
I turn toward the overflow lot, then stop. If the woman and the original man are watching our movement, sending multiple people toward the sedan will repeat the mistake they may have engineered earlier.
“Use one plainclothes employee,” I add. “Everyone else maintains position.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“No. You remain on cameras. Send Nina.”
Wade acknowledges the order. I continue toward the lodge instead of changing direction. Anyone watching will see the same patrol route I have followed for the last hour.
The festival begins closing at ten. Announcements direct visitors toward final purchases while vendors secure cash and smaller merchandise. My team escorts those carrying deposits to a locked room inside the lodge. Deputies increase their presence near the exits without blocking them.
At 10:18, Nina reports that the silver sedan remains in the overflow lot. The engine is cold. No one has approached it.
McCall runs the partial plate against the vehicle description, but the search produces too many possibilities. Without a complete number or probable cause, the deputies cannot enter the vehicle or force it open.
We maintain surveillance.
By eleven, the public areas are empty. Vendors remain behind lowered panels while completing inventory. The lodge doors are locked, the auction items rest inside the office safe, and the money collected during the evening has been transferred under escort.
Whatever the man planned, Loralee’s warning changed the opportunity. That may be enough to prevent it. Or it may only delay him.
I stand beside the silver sedan with McCall after the last vendor leaves. Mud covers the plate in a deliberate horizontal smear. The doors are locked. Through the windows, I see fast-food wrappers, an empty water bottle, and a gray blanket across the rear seat. No weapon is visible.
“We’ll keep a deputy near it,” McCall says. “If someone returns, we can ask questions.”
“And if no one does?”
“Property owner can have it towed tomorrow. If the plate comes back stolen or false, we proceed from there.”
It is not the result I want, but it is the limit of what the evidence permits. I check the time. 11:26.
Loralee has not sent another message. My patrol passed her rental twice and reported no activity. She is safe.
I tell Wade I will be off-site for thirty minutes. He does not ask where I am going. The drive takes eleven.
Lights remain on inside Loralee’s cabin. Her SUV sits where she left it before I brought her to mine. The curtains are drawn now, and no movement appears around the neighboring rentals. I park beside her vehicle and turn off the engine.
Going inside would be a mistake. I am carrying too much of the festival with me. I’m full of unresolved evidence, incomplete descriptions, and the certainty that someone tested my security response.
Loralee needs sleep, not another discussion about what might happen. She also needs the truth.
I cross the porch and knock.
The curtain near the door moves. A moment later, the lock turns.
Loralee stands barefoot in a long rust-colored sweater and black leggings. Her hair falls loose over her shoulders, the lighter strands catching the glow from the lamp behind her. She looks rested but not surprised.
“You knew it was me.”
“I hoped.”
The answer does nothing to reduce my awareness of her mouth.
Her gaze moves over my face. “You found something.”
“Yes.”
She steps back from the doorway. “Come inside.”
“I can tell you from here.”
“You could.”
I wait. Loralee’s mouth softens into a wide smile.
“But you came back because you don’t want to stand out there and give me a security report. You came because neither of us finished what happened before you left.”
My body responds before I can deny it.
“The man was studying the auction case,” I say. “We have photographs.”
She absorbs the confirmation. “Then the vision was connected to him.”
“It appears that way.”
“Is he still at the festival?”
“We don’t know.”
Her eyes remain on mine. No panic enters them, but the certainty I saw at the lodge returns.
“This isn’t over,” she says.
“No.”
“Then you shouldn’t be alone tonight either.”
The invitation is not subtle. Neither is the effect it has on me.
I look past her into the warm cabin. Her crystals rest on the table. A candle burns inside a glass vessel near the window. Everything in the room belongs to her, including the choice she is offering.
My radio remains quiet.
“Loralee.”
“I know what I’m asking.”
“I’m not sure you do.”
She reaches for the front of my jacket and draws me across the threshold.
“Then come inside and explain it to me.”