“That’s okay. Were any of the pictures of Richard Basanelli?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. He was in all five. I’m grateful to have three of the pictures back.”
“Tell me about the other two.”
She coughed. “Um, one was of Richard with some friends fishing, and the other was of Richard and me by the lake at night. I really miss that one.”
Of course. Was this whole thing about a picture? “What friends were in the other picture?”
“I don’t know. They were fishing and snowmobile buddies. I just found the photo in some of his stuff that he left behind and framed it. Shoot. I really don’t know who they were.”
“That’s okay. Um, is there any chance you took pictures of your antique store for that website you told me about?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I actually took pictures of the whole place but only put a few up on the website. It’ll take me a few minutes, but I can text them all to you if you want.”
“Thanks.” Anticipation trilled through me. This might be a crazy idea, but what if? I clicked off, and my phone buzzed again. I looked down, my heart thundering. “It’s a 911 from Oliver. He had a distress call from Don McLerrison and is headed out there right now. He needs help.”
Chapter36
We bundled into Nonna’s car, and Bud sped off, looking in the rearview mirror at me. “What do you mean Oliver needs help?”
I quickly dialed Oliver, but the call went to voicemail. “He said Donny McLerrison fell and refused to call an ambulance, so he headed home. It was a quick text. He probably did it while he was driving.”
My heart thundered. McLerrison was a stubborn old guy, and I could see him doing just that. I chewed on my lip. “Maybe we should call an ambulance just to be certain.”
Nonna looked over her shoulder. “We don’t know that he’s hurt. Call again.”
“Okay, Nonna.” I called Oliver again, and it went directly to voicemail like last time.
“He could be driving through the storm.” She stared out the window. The wind had picked up; snow billowed all around. It would be a white Valentine’s Day.
“Better safe than sorry. I want backup as well.” Bud clicked on his radio and then stopped. “What’s the address?”
I quickly rattled off the farm’s address. “We’re only a couple of minutes away.” It was a good thing we were out in the middle of nowhere. I knew some life-saving techniques, but Bud was probably an expert. I was glad we were close.
“All right.” Bud called in the request for an ambulance and backup. We soon turned down the long drive along the fenced area and headed toward the farmhouse. Oliver’s truck was parked haphazardly to the side.
“Backup?” I asked.
Bud nodded. “Yeah. All cases like this when we call in an ambulance, and all cases concerning you require backup.”
Fine. My phone dinged, and I looked down to see the pictures from Lisa. I scrolled through several of a much younger Richard Basanelli, doing everything from waterskiing to hunting, and then paused on one of him in front of the river, holding up several largemouth bass. I frowned, peered closer, and then widened the picture.
Bud screeched to a stop and slid several feet. “You two stay here while I go see how badly he’s hurt.”
“No way.” I jumped out, and Nonna did the same, her trench coat and sunglasses back in place. The chilly air washed over me. I leaned over to Nonna. “Aren’t these the Wilson brothers with Richard?”
It kind of made sense, considering they all worked the mine back then.
She paused and lifted her glasses. “Yeah, of course.”
I shook my head. But the picture didn’t make sense. I could tell who was who, even back then. Wayne’s nose was hard to miss. But in the picture, Wayne had red hair, and Spencer’s was dark. “I don’t understand.”
“What? That’s Wayne and Spencer Wilson. I’d forgotten how good-looking they were when they were younger,” she said.
“Yeah, but Spencer has red hair in real life these days, not Wayne.”
She leaned back and looked at me. “Not true. Wayne always had the red hair. Spencer was dark-haired.”
