Page 52 of Mile High Mystery

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You look angry about something.”

She was tempted to tell him about the sheriff’s ridiculous suggestion that he had made up the story about the bear, but decided against it. As much as she hated the idea of anyone suspecting Zach, she knew the sheriff was approaching the case as any good law enforcement officer would, looking at everyone as a possible suspect. No matter how compelling the evidence, it was never a good idea to focus on only one suspect, especially in the early stages of an investigation. “The artist is back here,” she said. “You’ll work with him first, then give your statement about what you saw that night at the restaurant. The artist will ask you questions about what you saw and use your answers to come up with a sketch, which you’ll fine-tune together. The end result should be a drawing of the man you saw that night at the Britannia.”

“What will you do while I’m doing that?” he asked.

“I have some calls to make. I’ll check in with you soon.”

She got Zach settled with the artist, an affable man named Fred who had driven over from Denver. “The most important thing is to relax and remember there are no wrong answers,” he said as Shelby was leaving.

Though Sheriff Walker had offered her the use of an empty office in his department, she opted to walk outside to telephone Special Agent in Charge Lester. She told him about the sheriff’s conclusions about Todd Arniston, and their inability to locate Janie.

“Neither of these people sound like very strong suspects to me,” Lester said. “I don’t think you’re making enough progress in this case to justify keeping you in Eagle Mountain.”

“Sir, I respectfully disagree. At least give me another day or two to follow some leads.” She didn’t have any leads to follow, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I want you back in the office Monday morning, and that’s final,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” She ended the call. Three days to find some kind of closure. Zach deserved that, even if it was the only thing she could give him.

ZACHSATBACKand looked at the drawing on the artist’s computer screen. A young man with a prominent nose and chiseled cheekbones looked out at him, fear haunting the man’s dark eyes. For the space of a breath, Zach was back on that Houston street, the man silhouetted beneath the red glow of the traffic signal, his heart hammering in sympathy with the man’s obvious terror.

“That’s him,” he said, back in the present now. “How did you do that?”

“You did it,” Fred said. “I drew what you told me. I just knew the right questions to ask.”

“Is it strange that I still remember him so well, after so much time has passed?”

“Not really. Trauma makes a strong impression. That, or a sense of connection with another person. You were afraid that night, and you saw that same feeling in him, even if you didn’t acknowledge it.” He started typing.

“What happens now?” Zach asked.

“I’ll send this to my office, and from there it will be uploaded to various national databases. It will be up to the agents working the case, but sometimes these images are published in local media in the hopes that someone who recognizes the person will come forward.” He closed the laptop. “You could help solve a crime. Or prevent another one.”

He walked with Zach into the hallway, where Deputy Owen met him. “Come with me, and I’ll take your statement,” Owen said and led him into another interview room.

Telling the story yet again wasn’t as difficult as Zach had anticipated. Declan Owen expressed no judgment or opinion, merely prompting Zach when he needed more detail or wanted to clarify the sequence of events. When Zach was done, he waited another quarter of an hour for a printed copy of his statement and signed it. “Thanks,” Owen said. “You’re free to go now.”

He escorted Zach to the lobby, where he had expected to find Shelby waiting. Adelaide saw him looking around. “Agent Dryden said she would see you later,” she said.

He hid his disappointment, but told himself he was being ridiculous. Hadn’t he said he didn’t want Shelby babysitting him? Maybe she felt the same way he did—that being together all the time was too frustrating, fighting this attraction between them, for reasons that still weren’t clear to him. Though maybe she didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish. He could understand that. She would need to go back to Houston sooner rather than later. The thought made him even more glum.

Rather than go home to mope, he stopped by Mo’s, where he ordered nachos and a beer. He sat at a table by the window and watched groups of tourists on the sidewalk—couples and happy families laden with shopping bags, wearing souvenir T-shirts and stopping often to take pictures.

A flash of blond hair made him sit up straighter, and he leaned forward, studying a group of people across the street waiting to cross. Was that Janie in the back?

He shoved back his chair and rushed outside. But there was no tall blonde woman anywhere. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, a boulder others had to move around, and stared in all directions.

Back in the restaurant, Kiki met him at the door. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I thought I saw someone I knew.” He took out his wallet. “Let me settle up, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He drove home, unable to relax. The tension didn’t ease when he parked and saw someone by his door. He sat in the car, wondering if he should leave again, when Shelby moved into the light. He hurried to meet her. She didn’t look happy to see him, fine lines of tension creasing her forehead. “We have to talk,” she said.

ASSOONASthe words were out of her mouth, Shelby silently cursed herself for being overly dramatic. Talk about a phrase that would send almost anyone running in the other direction. She rested a hand on his arm. “I just want to bring you up to date on some developments,” she said.

“Sure.” He unlocked the door, and she followed him in. They both stood just inside the door for a moment, looking around.

---