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Lucien traded looks with Brogan, ignoring the question. “You go. I’ll stay here and wait for the cops. I’m calling Cord now to look at Mia. She has a knot on her head, too.”
As soon as he shut the door on the Range Rover, Brogan cranked up the engine. “I’ll stay with her at the emergency room. I’ll call Kelly. She’ll want to be there, too. Let me know any updates.”
“I’m sure Eastlyn or Colt will want to talk to Jade…later. See you soon.”
Brogan waved and backed out of the driveway. She turned to Jade. “How’s your head?”
“It feels like someone conked me over the head with an iron bar. Does it look terrible?”
With a sidelong glance, Brogan studied her friend’s forehead. The gash was still trickling blood through the Kleenex. Jade’s skin around the wound had already turned a dull shade of purple and swelled to a bigger knot. But Brogan tried to sound upbeat. “You look amazing, minus the blood and bruises.”
“So, probably no dancing on the tabletops for me tonight,” Jade cracked.
“Even if you don’t have a concussion, I’d stay at ground level if I were you.”
“Someone’s getting worried,” Lucien judged, sending Colt Del Rio a look of frustration. “I’d bet money that he’s the same person we saw in the orchard who left behind the knife. Whoever keeps hanging around here wants us to back off this case, seriously back off.”
Colt nodded. “Yeah. I read Brent’s report. He believes this man is related to Gidget’s killer. Which means he’s desperate to keep his identity under wraps.”
“We both read the report,” Eastlyn asserted, snapping photos of the graffiti. “Would’ve helped if the cameras had worked.”
“I didn’t have time between incidents to fix the cameras he messed with the first time,” Lucien groused. “This guy didn’t just spray paint the lenses. No, he was more high-tech. He stayed out of the close-up range by approaching from the side angle at just the right sweet spot as if he knew exactly what area the camera didn’t cover. Then he moved in and cut the wires. But I know several things about this guy already. He’s in fit shape, not old. He can sprint from the scene of a crime like a track star. And he’s bold enough to strike when we’re at home. Plus, he’s willing to attack anyone who confronts him.”
“He did show up armed with a knife the first time,” Colt pointed out.
When Lucien’s cell phone dinged, he read the text. “Gideon Nighthawk confirmed Jade has a concussion, says he’s keeping her overnight for observation.”
“We’ll interview her when she’s able to talk,” Eastlyn promised. “Maybe we’ll get lucky with a composite of what this guy looks like.”
Colt walked around the patio, studying the ground, looking for footprints. “This guy had to see you and Brogan leave and head into town. He’s been watching the house.”
“But Jade said he seemed surprised that someone was occupying the guest house. So, he somehow missed that.”
“Probably focused on the main house,” Colt muttered as he ended up closer to the cottage, peering into the flowerbeds near the hydrangeas. “Bingo. Eastlyn, we’ve got a shoe print, trainers from the look of it.”
Eastlyn brought over her camera and refocused the lens. “That’s a Nike Alphafly. Size eleven. Probably a two-year-old shoe bought after July 2020, so not new.”
Lucien gave her a strange look. “How do you know all that?”
“That’s when Nike released that shoe to the public.”
“No, I mean the brand.”
“See how the sole has a different shape than anything Adidas, Converse, or New Balance marketed then. You can check out the design on the Internet if you don’t believe me. The thick foam padding Nike added for runners makes the logo on the bottom stand out from all the rest. It looks like a platform boot instead of a flat running shoe.”
Impressed, Colt bent down to take a closer look. “I remember the controversy surrounding it. The marathon purists cried foul. The runners believed the padding and carbon plate inside amounted to technical doping because the combination gave the wearer a distinct advantage over their competitors.”
“So he left behind a very unique shoe print,” Lucien surmised.
“Yeah. Leaving the knife behind was your visitor’s first mistake. But this is his second,” Colt deemed. “And it might be his undoing.”
Eastlyn grinned. “What Colt is saying is that it should make tracking down the owner fairly easy. We make a few inquiries as to who sold that shoe in the area and then go after the names of the buyers.”
“A pricey shoe like that, the list should be short,” Colt reasoned.
“With any luck,” Lucien mused. “Either he left fingerprints on the knife, or you can track him by the shoes.”
Colt slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry. One way or another, we’ll get this guy.”
