She crossed the cracked parking lot, keeping her eyes on the spot where she had seen the movement. The closer she got, the more she realized that all she likely saw was the rustling of a raccoon or skunk.
“Hey! You must be lost, lady.”
She froze. The sound of dirt crunching under feet got closer. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ready to blast the guy with Mace.
“Are you looking for something?”
She turned to find a short Hispanic man, maybe in his fifties, whose prematurely stooped body declared him one who had spent years working long hours in manual labor. With him stood two tall, younger men, who looked to be in their twenties. She took a step back.
The older man shook his head and held up his hands, palms forward. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you. But you shouldn’t hang around here. Nothing good can come of a woman alone in these parts, especially one who looks like you.”
A pinch of guilt shot through her. She’d gone and assumed the very worst. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend—”
He held up his palms and smiled, revealing surprisingly-straight white teeth. He may have worked hard, but he took pride in caring for himself as best as possible. “I’d wonder about you if you didn’t suspect the worst. You shouldn’t be out here. No one should be out here.”
“What are you doing in the area?”
“Our sister works at the Pawn Shop,” the taller of the young men said as he gestured to the store. “We get here every night as the sun starts to go down and wait. Watch.”
“Was she working the night Cullen Shepherd was murdered?”
“Yes. Why?” the other young man said, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.
She glanced toward the Pawn Shop. “I’m hoping to find someone who saw something.”
“Aren’t you about a week late on that? The police already interviewed the few people who were around that night, and declared it a bad drug deal.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and tilted her head. “Yes, but it doesn’t add up. They dismissed it too easily, and the facts, well, they just don’t fit.”
A shadow moved over the older gentleman’s face. “You should leave here and not come back. No good can come of digging in to this. Please.”
Unease crept over her at his expression, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck and over her bare arms. Fear. It lingered in the air. This man who patrolled the streets, seemingly unaffected by the danger lurking, aged at least a decade in just moments at the mention of Cullen’s murder.
They may have had information. Or maybe not. But one thing she’d guarantee is that they knew something about this area. Something the authorities didn’t. Something that scared them even when the terrors of the night in such a desolate, crime-infested place couldn’t.
She doubted they would share, but it didn’t hurt to try. “You could spare me from digging right now by filling me in on what has you so concerned for my safety. The sooner I have the information, the sooner I’ll get into my car and go.”
“I didn’t see anything,” he said, averting his gaze.
“Ah, yes, but that’s not really what I’m asking. I think you know that.”
“Pop, just tell—”
He glanced sharply at his son, sliced a hand through the air, and rattled off a tirade in Spanish she couldn’t understand.
He made it clear he wasn’t giving up any info, so all she could do was give him her card. If he chose to call her, great.
Or maybe one of his sons would.
“Here, take my card. If you ever have any information you’re willing to share, call me. Maybe, when you’re not standing right in the scene of the crime, you’ll feel safer discussing it.”
He eyed the card, but didn’t take it. The son he’d shut down moments before snatched it from her fingers and shoved it into his pocket.
“Vamos,” the father said, with a curt nod in her direction.
She watched them as they faded away. Once out of earshot their animated disagreement amongst themselves escalated, and was punctuated by agitated body movements and hand gestures.
She turned back to the dumpster, sure she wouldn’t find anything after her distraction, but interested in checking all the same.
