Chapter 15 #2
After breakfast, we rode Treelee into town, the sorhox’s gait smooth beneath us. I’d grown to love these rides, with Dungar’s solid warmth at my back and his arm secure around my waist. The mountain air filled my lungs, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and wild grass.
Main Street was quiet when we arrived, the tourist attractions not yet open for the day. We headed straight for the jail, where Dungar unlocked the door, checking the lock three times before moving inside.
I started searching the web for anything related to luminooks while he called his contacts for updates and organized everything else.
“I’ve compiled all our evidence so far,” he said a bit later, pointing to a folder containing photos of the footprints, the damaged fence sections, and the discarded components we’d found in the clearing. Each image had been labeled, dated, and arranged in chronological order.
I leaned over his shoulder, studying the pictures. “The boot prints are consistent throughout. I’d guess about a size ten men’s hiking boot, Vibram sole pattern. High-end but common.” I looked up at him. “Do we think the two incidents are related?”
“They could be, but we’ll investigate them separately to make sure we don’t miss anything.”
“In town, our suspect used wire cutters on the fence.” He pointed to a close-up of that section, and I could see he was right. “Clean, minimal distortion. And look here. They were sealed back with specialized crimping that wouldn’t be obvious to casual inspection.”
“They wanted to be able to return without creating new damage.” I frowned, thinking. “If the two are connected, that suggests an ongoing operation, not a one-time theft.”
He nodded grimly. “My thoughts exactly.”
For the next hour, we combed through security footage from the cameras positioned around town. None covered the luminook pens directly, a security oversight Dungar was already planning to correct, but several captured the access paths leading to that area.
“There.” I paused a frame that showed a figure in dark clothing walking toward the back of the property. “Tuesday, 2:17 PM.”
Dungar zoomed in, but the image quality deteriorated. “Baseball cap, loose jacket, and pants. They kept their head lowered so the hat’s brim is hiding their face.”
“And here again, Wednesday at almost the same time.” I pointed to another frame showing what appeared to be the same figure. “They’re establishing a pattern, possibly timing their intrusion around security rounds or shift changes.”
Dungar grunted. “We need to catch them next time.”
We compiled a list of everyone who might have seen something suspicious, including maintenance staff, tour guides, pottery class participants, even delivery drivers who regularly came to the town. By mid-morning, we were ready to begin interviews.
Our first stop was the general store, where Aunt Inla was arranging a display of handcrafted soaps. Her face brightened when she saw us.
“My favorite couple,” she called out, making heat rise in my cheeks. “What brings you by?”
“We’re investigating some concerning activity around the luminook pens.” Dungar kept his voice neutral despite the knowing twinkle in his aunt’s eyes. “Have you noticed anyone unusual hanging around recently or heard anyone mention tourists near the restricted areas?”
Aunt Inla’s frowned. “Now that you mention it, Mary did say something about seeing someone near the back fence when she was cleaning the windows in the pottery barn. Said they looked like they didn’t belong.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Two, maybe three days ago? You should ask her about it. She’s over at the saloon now, cleaning before they open.”
We thanked her and headed to the Red Fang, where we found Mary polishing glasses behind the bar. She looked up as we entered, her gray ponytail swinging with the movement.
“Sheriff, Deputy,” she said.
We sat at the bar.
“Are you looking for something to eat?” Mary asked. “Greel’s in the kitchen talking with Lavon. Want me to get him for you?”
“We actually came to speak with you,” I said.
“Oh. Um, sure.”
Why did her face blanche?
“Aunt Inla said you may have seen someone suspicious near the back fences a few days ago,” Dungar said.
Mary paused, a glass halfway polished in her hands. “Oh, that. Yes, I was cleaning the windows at the Pottery Barn, and I noticed someone walking along the back fence line. I thought it was odd since tourists don’t usually go back there.”
“Can you describe them?” I asked.
“They were wearing one of those fancy hiking outfits. Khaki with all those pockets. What do you think they put in there, anyway?” Her smile rose. “Maybe they collect rocks or something. Anyway. They were moving strangely, sort of crouched low, stopping to examine the fence in places.”
“Man or woman?” Dungar asked.
“I couldn’t tell for sure. They wore a baseball hat pulled low, and they were pretty far away.”
“What day was this?”
“Tuesday, I think? I was doing the Pottery Barn windows before lunchtime. We had another sick call.”
We thanked Mary and continued our interviews throughout the morning. Most people had nothing useful to report, but a pattern began to emerge. There had been several sightings of someone in hiking gear examining the fences, always when activity in that area was minimal.
Our next stop was the Pottery Barn, where Hail and Allie were setting up for a class. Clay-covered aprons hung from hooks along one wall, and the rich, earthy scent of wet clay filled the air.
“Lum-lum-luminook trouble?” Hail asked when we explained why we were there. “We haven’t seen anything unusual.”
Allie, arranging glazes on a shelf, paused.
“Actually, that’s not entirely true. I went to the back shed for some firing supplies yesterday afternoon.
We keep the rarer glazes there since they need temperature control.
” She plopped a mound of clay in front of a high stool on a work table and carried the bucket to the next spot.
“While I was digging through boxes, I noticed someone through the window.”
“Someone by the luminook pens?” Dungar asked, instantly alert.
“Not exactly by them but definitely heading that way.” Allie added another blob of clay to the table. “They were walking in a certain way. You know what I mean, when you can tell someone knows exactly where they’re going?”
I nodded, recognizing the body language she was describing. “Can you describe them?”
“That’s the odd part.” Allie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It wasn’t the usual tourist type at all, but a woman dressed in a t-shirt, capri pants, and a smock, of all things, the kind with big pockets on the front.
Who wears something like that to a cowboy tourist destination?
” She laughed. “I remember thinking it was out of place.”
Dungar and I exchanged glances. This description differed completely from the hiker Mary had seen.
“Could you see her face?” I asked.
“Not clearly. She had big sunglasses on, and her hair had been pulled back in a severe bun and tucked beneath a broad-brimmed hat.”
“What time was this?” Dungar took notes on his phone.
“Around four. I’d just finished teaching an advanced throwing class.”
“And you’re certain she was heading toward the luminook area?” I asked.
Allie nodded. “Definitely. She even had a little silver device in her hand. I thought it might be a specialized camera or something. The way she held it, moving it back and forth, reminded me of when Hail uses his electromagnetic field meter to check kiln temperatures.”
Hail tilted his head. “Maybe a s-s-scanning device of some kind.”
An apron-wearing woman with a scanner. A hiker examining fences. Two different people with the same target.
“This may not be a solo operation,” I told Dungar.
“I agree.”
The implications sent a chill down my spine. A coordinated effort meant resources, planning, and determination, exactly the kind of operation Blainsworth’s sons could finance.
It could also mean people had discovered the value of the luminooks. Either way, we had a serious problem on our hands.
“Thank you,” Dungar said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “If you see anyone suspicious again—”
“We’ll call immediately,” Allie said. She hesitated, then added, “Is there danger? Should we be worried?”
Dungar’s expression loosened. “We’re taking precautions. Just be aware of your surroundings and report anything unusual.”
We left the Pottery Barn.
“Two different people, but the same target area and professional approach,” I said once we’d shut the outer door and started across the open street, aiming for the boardwalk. “What do you think?”
“They could have financial backing for the operation. Specialized equipment costs money.”
So it could be Blainsworth. It would be like them to sabotage my new job before killing me. They enjoyed torture and watching others squirm. Or a pharmaceutical company after the luminooks for research. Or military contractors.
I kept returning to the Blainsworth sons.
Dungar’s hand found mine, squeezing. “We don’t know for certain this is about you.”
But we couldn’t rule them out either. And that uncertainty would keep me looking over my shoulder, just when I’d started to believe I might find peace here in Lonesome Creek.