Chapter Thirteen #2
“Can you describe the men?” Sondergard asked.
“Well, like I said, one was pretty big. Kind of fat. Maybe two hundred twenty to two hundred forty pounds. He had light hair, maybe red. He looked like a blustery kind of guy. The other one was more my size, and darker. He moved in a real deliberate way.”
“My God,” Sheridan said suddenly.
“What?” Sondergard asked.
“He just described two men who followed us home tonight. I can’t be positive they were the same men, but it sounds like it.”
—
Wright described approaching the pickup after the shooters had left. He said he did it cautiously. When he saw the holes in the windshield and all of the blood inside the cab, he powered up his phone and called 911.
“But why didn’t you identify yourself when you called it in?” Sondergard asked. “And why did you leave the scene?”
“Well, it turns out those two shooters hadn’t completely left the area,” he said. “In fact, they took a couple of shots at me and missed. So I hightailed it out of there.”
“Did you see what direction the shooters went when they finally left the area?” Sheridan asked.
“I didn’t stick around that long,” Wright said. “I boogied straight for my camp and didn’t look back.”
“You could have come back when all the emergency vehicles showed up,” Sondergard said. “Surely you saw them.”
“I did. But I was so bummed out by the whole experience that I didn’t want to get further involved. I hiked back to my little camp.”
“Why were you bummed out, as you put it?” the sheriff asked.
“Well, it goes back to what I was telling you earlier,” Wright said.
“This is supposed to be a purifying experience. Just me and nature harmonizing. It’s not supposed to be about ATVs, or shooters, or emergency vehicles.
That’s too much reality crashing in on me.
It’s like when one of those animatronic figures at Disneyland stops working right in front of you and you’re reminded it’s just a damned robot, not Abraham Lincoln. It just really spoiled my mood.”
“So what changed your mind?” Sondergard asked. “Why come forward this afternoon?”
“Because of the damned spacecraft that nearly landed on me last night, that’s why.”
Sheridan and Sondergard shared a puzzled glance.
“Spacecraft?” Sondergard asked.
“Great big huge fucker,” Wright said. “Lights all over it, coming right down like it was going to land on my camp. It filled the damned sky, and the exhaust from it kicked dirt up everywhere. I really did think it was going to land on me, or scoop me up, or some damned thing.
“I got up this morning and I just said to myself, ‘To hell with this.’ So I gathered my stuff and started walking out.”
“That’s when you showed up at the burned-up trailer?” Sondergard asked.
“Yup,” Wright said. “I figured that spacecraft decided to leave me alone and go burn down some guy’s camper instead. It probably used some kind of laser to do it.
“I’m lucky I survived,” he said. “And I’m damned happy I decided to get out of there when I did.
UFOs or UAPs—whatever they call ’em now—is a bridge too far in my primitive hunting experience, you know?
I mean, I came here to commune with nature—not wind up getting poked and prodded by aliens like a piece of meat. ”
Sondergard sat back without responding. Sheridan noticed that he’d stopped taking notes.
—
“So what do you think?” Sheridan asked Sondergard out in the hallway after Wright had left the building.
The sheriff sighed. “I don’t know what to think. I was right there along with him until he told us about the flying saucer. Now I wonder about his entire story.”
“Me too,” Sheridan said. “But he might have helped us identify the shooters after all.”
“Tell me more about the two guys who followed you,” Sondergard said.
Sheridan described them. “They introduced themselves, even. The driver said his name was Jason Witten and that the passenger was named Marion Barber.”
“Those are the names they gave you?”
“Yes.”
Sondergard eyed her and said, “Those two guys used to play pro football for the Dallas Cowboys.”
“Ugh,” Sheridan said, feeling her face flush. “I wouldn’t possibly know that, but I guess I’m not that surprised.”
“Probably two names they thought up on the spot. Did you get a plate number?”
“No, but it was local.” She felt stupid for not thinking of writing down the license plate. “I’ll ask my sisters if they thought to jot it down.”
“Do that,” Sondergard said. Then, after a long pause, he said, “We did a thorough search of your dad’s truck. There was no cell phone or notebook. I’ve questioned everybody who had access to it as well. No one saw the items.”
“Damn,” Sheridan said. “It’s a mystery.”
“Yes, it is,” he said. Then: “I’d love to ask you out for a nightcap tonight. But I stink so bad and I’m about ready to fall asleep standing up right here.”
“I’ll take a rain check.”
“That’s good news. Now go home. I know I will.”
There was an awkward moment where she thought he might try to kiss her. But he apparently talked himself out of it.
“Keep an eye out for UFOs on your drive back,” he said. “And Dallas Cowboys.”