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“Let me get my coat and I’ll be right with you,” he said.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Dana said. She gave Meadow an odd look, but she softened it with a smile and a nod that saidno hard feelings.
All sorts of strange things were happening, Meadow thought to herself. Nice, but strange.
She finished what she could recall of the man’s appearance. Gil came back in a few minutes later.
“Snow’s getting deep,” he told her, laughing as he brushed the snow off the plastic cover of his Smokey the Bear hat.
“I noticed. Give this a look and tell me if you’ve ever seen anyone locally who looked like my sketch, would you?”
“Sure.” He looked over her shoulder at the screen. “That overcoat looks sort of familiar, but I can’t think why. The bag over his shoulder is unusual.”
“I knew an artist once, in St. Louis, who carried her canvases in one. That’s the last time I saw one. I’m not sure they even sell them anymore. It looked old. I remember thinking it had a stain about halfway down . . .”
“You didn’t see his face?”
She shook her head. “He kept his back to me. He was running. He was fast,” she added.
“Running in snow is not easy. I know,” Gil remarked.
“He had long legs.” She sat back in her chair. “We don’t have that many people in Raven Springs, but it’s still a large number. There are probably at least one or two artists who live here and have bags made of heavy canvas.” She hesitated. “Is there an art supply store?”
“Not here,” he said. “You’d have to go to Denver for one of those.”
“Another dead end,” she muttered.
“How’s your dog?” he asked.
“Better, thanks,” she replied. “Dal and I went to see her yesterday.”
His eyebrows arched.
“He was really sorry about what he said to me,” she told him. “He paid the vet’s bill.”
“Nice of him,” he agreed. “I was pretty hot when I had to go out there. He should never have yelled at you without knowing what actually happened.”
“That’s exactly what he said,” she replied. She drew in a breath. “I guess we’re all guilty of jumping to conclusions from time to time.” Her face tautened. “I want to get my hands on the man who hit Snow.”
“I don’t blame you. I would, too. We might make copies of that sketch,” he added, “and hand them out to businesses. Someone might recognize the man.”
“Good thinking!”
“Oh, I’m a genius,” he returned. “It doesn’t show because I’m so modest about my talents.”
“Is that so?” She laughed.
He shrugged. “I guess I’d better go watch for wrecks. Good Lord, half the people in this town should never have been issued licenses. I told that to a man just this morning. He tried to run a red light, swung the car around, and fishtailed right into a parked car with a woman sitting in the passenger seat. No major injuries, but I charged him with reckless driving just the same.”
“Good for you. Maybe he’ll learn from his mistake.”
“Miracles happen. Can I bring you back lunch?”
She dug in her purse. “A green salad with Thousand Island dressing from anyplace you go, and thanks.” She handed him a ten-dollar bill.
“You’re on.” He left her sitting at the computer.
* * *
