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Dana leaned back in her chair, running her fingers through her hair. Idly, she slipped the scrunchee off her wrist and pulled her hair into a somewhat messy ponytail to keep it out of her face.
Why hadn’t anyone ever put this all together? Why hadn’t the old sheriff—what was his name? Nickels?—seen some kind of connection here? If he was any kind of cop, he should have picked up on it. How much did he remember now?
She’d track him down and arrange to see him. The article she read about his retirement said he’d sold his house in town and lived on a few acres not too far from the Winslows. Pulling up the internet, she searched for his address and phone number and made the call.
“Hello?” The voice of the woman who answered was slightly breathless, as if she’d run to pick up the phone.
“My name is Dana Moretti,” she began. “I wonder if I might speak with Sheriff Nickels?”
“Whew! Let me catch my breath a second. I was just out in the yard when I heard the phone ring.” Pause. “My husband hasn’t been sheriff for several years now. If you call the office, they’ll get you to the new one, Cole Landry.”
“I know your husband is retired, Mrs. Nickels. I understand. But he’s the one I’d really like to speak with. Is he home?”
A longer pause. When the woman spoke again, her tone changed. “You’re the person who’s wanting to write a book about what happened to those kids all those years ago. Right?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I’ve written a number of books about unsolved crimes, and I’ve had success working with the people involved.”
“You need to leave this one alone,” the woman snapped.
Dana sighed. She should have known nothing about this would be easy. “Mrs. Nickels. I’m going to write the book whether I talk to the folks of High Ridge or not. But I want it to be as accurate as possible so for that purpose, I need to interview people who were involved in the case, like the former sheriff. I’d just like a few minutes of his time. Is he available?”
“No, he’s not. He won’t be home until this afternoon, but I know he won’t want to talk to you. Just leave him alone. It was a terrible thing he went through, not being able to find that killer. It still haunts him.”
“I’m sure it does,” Dana said smoothly. “And I’ll bet he has a message he’d like to send to those parents after all these years. This would be a wonderful way for him to do it.”
“I don’t know.” The woman’s voice dropped a tone. “This business with Leanne Pritchard has him upset all over again.”
“Would you just tell him I called? I’ll try again this afternoon to reach him. If he’s home, I’d like to come by for a little while.”
The woman was silent for so long Dana thought she might have hung up on her. Finally, she said, “I’ll give him your message. Then it’s up to him.”
Dana ended the call and reached for her tea but found it cold. Making a face at the bitter taste, she dumped it in the sink and made a fresh cup. Then she sat back down at the table.
Two of the reports hadn’t contained any mention of clowns. Was that because there weren’t any around or because they had been overlooked? Or hadn’t anyone seen either of those children run after a clown? Dana wrote down the names of the families and did a search for their telephone numbers. Maybe she could talk to one of them before speaking with the sheriff.
The sheriff. That conjured up the image of the most recent one, Cole Landry. Her physical reaction to him frightened her. She was such an emotional cripple that, up until now, just the thought of a man touching her made her stiffen with fear. But Cole stirred unfamiliar feelings and inspired dreams more erotic than she could imagine. Their very promise of pleasure confused her even more.
She wanted a truly loving relationship. She wanted to get married someday. To have children. Things Kylie would never be able to do. Ever. That’s why she’d started this journey to hell. Finding the pedophile and finally being able to move on with her life was her way to honor Kylie’s memory. She should be living for both of them. Thus far, she’d been doing a really lousy job.
Sighing, she jotted down the addresses for the Garzas and Escobedos, the two families whose case reports made no mention of a clown. After stuffing down a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk, she combed her hair and freshened her makeup. The Garzas lived the closest. She’d try them first.
****
Cole had been all over the place interviewing the kids who’d been at the park one more time. Exhausted, he decided to stop at the Bishop ranch and bounce ideas off Tate. His uncle was just coming from the barn when Cole pulled into the driveway.
“Decide to take me up on dinner?”
“Maybe.” Cole gave him a tired smile. “At least a drink. I think I could use that first.”
A sympathetic look washed over the older man’s face. “Let’s get to it, then. Come on.” He led the way into the house.
“Tate?” a voice floated out from the kitchen. “That you?”
“It’s me. And with a surprise,” he answered.
Adele Bishop hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans. When she saw Cole, her face lit up and she turned her cheek for his kiss.
“What a nice surprise. We hardly get to see you these days.”
