Lost Rodeo Memories. Jenna Night
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she repeated.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“I don’t even know where I am.” Her voice caught and she could hear a sob rising up in her throat. She’d never felt so lost in her life.
The deputy squeezed her hand a little tighter. His touch, along with the feeling of calm and strength emanating from him, made her feel a little less panicked. “You’ve obviously sustained a substantial blow to your head,” he said. “That can leave anybody addled. We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as we can.”
She heard tree branches snapping, boots stomping on hard-packed dirt, and people talking, and then an emergency medical crew stepped through the trees and into the clearing.
“What’s the last thing you can remember?” the deputy asked.
Melanie got the impression he was in more of a hurry now. That he wanted to get all of the information he could from her before the paramedics transported her to the hospital.
She tried hard to think back, but the last thing she could remember was being in the hotel in Wyoming. A flare of panic threatened to push the sobs she’d been swallowing back up to the surface again. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She squeezed the deputy’s hand a little harder, because right now he seemed like the only certain thing in her life. The only anchor she could hold on to.
Which was crazy, because she’d only just met the man. But she didn’t want to face any more strangers right now. Didn’t want to feel any more bewildered and overwhelmed than she already did.
“Oh, dear Lord,” she began to pray softly, uncertain what she would say next. And immediately the thought came to her. I will be with you always.
She was never alone, even if she felt alone. How many times had she reminded herself of that over the last couple of years, as she’d pieced her life back together? Lots of times. Her lungs were tight with fear, but she managed to take a deep breath and blow it out. She loosened her grip on the deputy’s hand without actually letting go of him and answered the paramedic’s questions as best she could.
During pauses in her conversation with the medic, Melanie spoke to the deputy. “The last thing I remember is going to sleep in my hotel room in Wyoming.”
By his long silence she could guess he was trying to decide what he should say to her.
“I realize I must be back home in Miles County,” she said.
“Where do you live?”
“In Bowen.” The biggest city in the county. Which didn’t mean it actually was a big city. Some people probably wouldn’t call it a city at all.
They were interrupted while one of the medics talked to her, shined a pen light in her eyes several times and felt around for any apparent broken bones. Her head still pounded, but at least the dizziness had subsided.
“You aren’t far from town,” Luke said while the medic called in to the county hospital’s emergency room, with an update on Melanie and a request for further directions. “You’re in the woods just south of the county fairgrounds.”
“Oh, that’s a weird coincidence,” she said. “I’m going to have a booth there, where I’ll sell my jewelry during the rodeo in a couple of weeks.”
“Tonight was the last night,” Luke said.
“Of the rodeo? How can that be? It’s two weeks in the future.”
“It ran this past week, as scheduled.”
So she’d lost two weeks of her life? That wasn’t possible. Panic started to raise its ugly head again. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up. Her face getting warmer.
“How did you know to come out here, into the woods, looking for me?” she asked, not certain she wanted to hear the answer.
Once again he took his time in answering. Probably concerned any information he gave her might traumatize her even more.
“Please tell me,” she said as calmly as she could. “I have a pretty vivid imagination. And sometimes that isn’t a good thing.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You had an assistant working your booth with you.”
“I always do that. So I can take a break without having to lock everything up.” And then a terrible thought crossed her mind. “Peter Altman. Is he all right?” She held her breath while waiting for the answer.
Melanie rented space to sell her handmade jewelry, as well as antiques and small pieces of restored furniture, in The Mercantile, downtown. Peter was a year out of high school, looking to work as many hours as he could to save money for college. The owner of The Mercantile had recommended Peter, and it had worked out great.
Luke nodded. “The rodeo was over. Many of the vendors had already cleared out. You’d packed up your inventory and were ready to leave when you gave Peter permission to grab something to eat.”
“A lot of the food sellers will give away leftover cooked food rather than throw it in the trash, when they’re closing up.” Melanie was trying to picture what Luke was telling her. And trying to guess what he would say happened next. Maybe even remember what happened next. But she couldn’t.
“Peter was surprised when he came back and you weren’t in your truck, waiting for him. And worried. He tried to call you on your phone, but you didn’t answer. Then he started literally calling out for you, all around the exhibition hall, where you’d been located, and then outside.
“He got event security out searching for you. And then one of the searchers heard gunshots from this direction. Several people called in, reporting they’d heard gunfire, and I got here as quickly as I could.”
Melanie stared at him, trying to take in everything he was telling her. None of it seemed the slightest bit familiar. Moving slowly and feeling a little bit queasy, she once again reached her hand up to her head. “Have I been shot?”
Luke looked to the medic who’d been taking her initial assessment.
“Melanie, we need to roll you onto this backboard,” the medic said in response. “Once we get you checked out at the hospital, we’ll have all the facts.”
“I can probably walk,” she said.
“No, we don’t want you to do that,” he responded. “We don’t want you walking until we know the extent of your injuries.”
She turned to Luke as he slowly let go of her hand. “I need to get to work on finding out exactly what happened to you,” he said. “But first I have to ask, do you have any enemies? Anyone you think could have done this?”
“No.”
“Has anyone ever threatened to harm you? Kill you?”
“No.”
His questions seemed ridiculous. But then the seriousness of his line of reasoning began to sink in. Was it really possible someone had wanted to kill her? Why?
And if so she had no idea who that person might be. Which meant they could walk right up to her and try to kill her again. And the next time she might not be able to get away.
* * *
“Is this all you have for security footage of the parking lot?” Luke asked impatiently. “It’s not much help.”
“That’s all there is, Lieutenant.” Don Chastain, the chief of event security for the fairgrounds, rubbed his hand over the sprinkling of gray stubble on his chin. They were standing in his office.
“Luke, you’ve responded to calls here before,” Don added. “You know our biggest problem is geniuses trying to break into the exhibition halls or the main office, in the middle of the night, because they apparently think we store chests full of gold in there.” He shook his head. “Normally we just deal with your