Lost Rodeo Memories. Jenna Night
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Luke once again watched the shadowy, low-quality video of the parking lot. Just in case he’d missed something the other three times he’d watched it.
He hadn’t. The single fixed camera was focused on a section of the parking lot, far from the spot where Melanie Graham was seen standing beside the cab of her pickup truck, prior to the attack. The images didn’t show anything notable. Just people walking to their vehicles and leaving.
All right, that was a dead end. Time to try something different. Luke turned to the rail-thin eighteen-year-old kid standing a couple of feet away from him. Technically being eighteen made the guy a man. But dressed in an oversize green-and-white plaid flannel shirt and sharply creased blue jeans, sporting a big silver belt buckle, he really did look like a six-foot-tall boy.
“Peter, did you see anybody walking up to Ms. Graham when you left to get something to eat?”
“No, sir.”
“Any odd behavior on her part? Did she seem worried or nervous?”
Peter shook his head.
Luke was hoping to get some kind of lead quickly. Right now one team of deputies was searching through the woods, trying to pick up any trail of a fleeing perpetrator. A second team, together with two forensic specialists, was combing the area where Melanie Graham had been found.
Once Melanie had been driven away in the ambulance, Luke had gone looking for Peter. So far he was the closest thing Luke had to a witness. But the kid was understandably shaken up. Hoping he’d be able to offer some useful information once he’d calmed down, Luke had asked him to hang around for a bit.
“I guess the guy got away with all Ms. Graham’s money,” Peter said, shaking his head sadly.
“It wasn’t a robbery,” Luke said. Or if it was meant to be a robbery, it wasn’t successful. Melanie’s purse had been recovered from her truck, complete with her wallet, phone and about forty dollars in cash. He’d seen it for himself, and he’d tucked the purse beside her, on the backboard, after she’d been loaded into the ambulance.
“So, I guess that means you found the lockbox?” Peter asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully.
“What lockbox?”
“A blue metal box she had on the front seat of the truck.”
Luke had looked through the truck and arranged for both the truck and trailer to be securely stored at the fairgrounds until Melanie could have someone come get them. The trailer had been closed up, with padlocks threaded through the door latches, and there was no sign that anyone had tried to break into it.
“What did she keep in the lockbox?” Luke asked. “Money? Her receipts for the day’s sales?”
“Yes,” Peter said. “She also put some of her more expensive jewelry in there. The things she made out of gold. There’s not very much of that. Most of it is silver.”
If the thief tried to pawn the stolen jewelry, that would give them the start of a lead on who they were looking for.
Maybe what happened to Melanie Graham tonight was a simple strong-arm robbery, but it seemed odd. There were several other vendors who would have pulled in a lot more money, particularly the food-and-drink sellers, who typically dealt in cash.
There was that small window of opportunity when Peter went to get food and Melanie was left alone, but who would have known she’d have cash and be by herself at that exact moment?
So, what might have happened? Somebody walked by at just the right time, saw their opportunity and tried to rob her? She grabbed the box and ran, and they chased her and then shot at her? For an unknown amount of money? With witnesses around?
That was hard to believe. But anything was possible. And he really wanted to catch whoever had done this.
Luke had spent a few years in the military. He’d been injured several times. Been knocked unconscious twice. He knew what it was like to open your eyes and be disoriented. It was a hollow, lonely feeling. He’d recognized that lost feeling in her eyes. He’d been relatively fortunate with his own injuries, and his disorientation hadn’t lasted for long. He hoped the same was true for her.
He pulled out his phone and punched in the number for a deputy working the crime scene in the woods. “Any chance you’ve found a blue metal lockbox?” he asked when the deputy answered.
“No. Are we looking for one?”
“Apparently there was one in the cab of her truck, but it’s gone now.”
“I’ll pass the word to keep an eye out for it.”
“What have you found so far?” Luke asked.
“Bullet casings. Partial footprints. A tree branch with blood on it and a few strands of hair. It was lying on the ground, near the spot where Ms. Graham was found. Of course we’re going to check to see if the blood and hair are a match for her or if they belong to someone else.”
“She’s been admitted to the hospital, so I’m going by there later this evening to check on her. Maybe she will have recovered some of her memory by then.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll be back over there at the crime scene in a few minutes.”
Luke disconnected and turned to Peter. “Is there anything else you can think of to tell me?”
Peter cleared his throat. “No, sir.”
The kid was still pretty pale and his hands were trembling. After ten years in the military, including several tours of combat, and his time as a deputy sheriff, it was hard for Luke to imagine how he would have reacted at the age of eighteen to having his employer attacked while he was just a short distance away.
He’d played football in high school and grew up on a ranch, so when he was eighteen he’d thought he was tough. But he wasn’t. Witnessing how inhumanely people could treat each other was shocking. You had to learn how to keep your emotional distance so you could be useful at your job. So you stopped being shocked by brutality. Or told yourself that was the case, anyway.
Luke’s brother, Jake, had warned him on one of Luke’s visits home on leave that he was getting too good at the emotional-distance thing. And after he’d moved back to Idaho to help Jake with his kids, Luke had tried to work on that. Leaving the Army after his enlistment period ended was a tough decision. But it was one he’d had to make, because he’d had no idea how long his brother would need his help.
“How are you holding up?” he asked Peter. “You’ve been a lot of help, and I appreciate it. Do you need me to have a deputy drive you home?”
“No, sir. I called a friend to come pick me up and he’s waiting in the parking lot.”
After Peter left, Luke wrapped things up with Don and went back to the crime scene to see how the investigation was going. The perpetrator hadn’t been found, but he’d left a trail through the woods that looped back to the two-lane highway winding through this part of the county. The guy could be anywhere by now.
If Melanie could eventually remember what the perpetrator looked like, there was the slim chance they could find an image of him on video. And from there, maybe link him to a vehicle license plate. A purchase made with a credit card at the fairgrounds. Something.
Confident that everything was being properly taken care of at the crime scene, Luke headed for the hospital. He arrived just as visiting hours were ending. When he stepped into Melanie’s room, he was immediately greeted by a young red-haired woman who introduced herself as Melanie’s cousin, Anna.
“How is she doing?” Luke asked Anna in a quiet voice. He could see Melanie lying in bed, a blanket pulled up nearly to her chin, looking tired and groggy.
“She has a concussion,” Anna told him. “But no fractures. And no gunshot wounds.”
“Thank You, Lord,” Luke said softly.