“It’ll be interesting who the DEA sends since there are already undercover agents working the area.”
“Would one of them be you?”
“Nope.” Cain laughed. “Some months back, they suggested that since I grew up in Crayton, I’d be perfect for the dark assignment they were putting together. I said no. But I did need to come back to town and do exactly what I’m doing.”
Kennett cleared his throat. “I’m not grilling you, but just what exactly are you doing in Crayton?”
Both men quieted at the sound of the diner’s front door opening. A couple of customers exited and went toward the parking lot on the other side of the building.
Cain turned back to face the officer. “Truth is, I am working on the house. It needs to be sold. My dad is still up in Alaska, and he likes it there…when he remembers where he’s at.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he ended with swipes to clear his eyes of moisture. “I’ve been able to get him into a good Alzheimer Memory Care facility up there, but it’s not cheap. Selling the house will help.”
Kennett swallowed and cleared his throat once again. “That’s a tough one, Cain. I’m sorry.
“I am, too. He wasn’t always the best dad in the world. But no one wants to see a parent in that situation.”
Moving to the other side of the hood, Cain mirrored the officer’s leaning stance as they spent the next few minutes hashing out clues and evidence. “Any of the other town hits have a follow-up break-in like Betsy’s house today?”
“Still working on that. I do know none of the others ended up with a dead body in a dumpster. But like I said, there were at least a couple shooting incidents. Plus, Hastings and I are still following up on reports of two people getting roughed up because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Kind of like Papa Carrington?”
“Exactly.” Kennett rolled his neck as if trying to work the kinks out. “In fact, I’m headed out to a few of the locations. “Sometimes seeing and talking to people in person is a lot better than reading reports and looking at photos.”
Cain shivered as a passing chill raced through his body. “True. You might also try to get a timeline which might give us a clue as to whether there was one, two or more involved.”
Seconds later Betsy emerged with a to-go bag and large fountain drink. She smiled and raised the items above her head as she walked toward the truck.
“By the way, we got some good footprint casts from the snow at both places. Should be able to compare them with any photos or casts the other places have taken.”
She sat the officer’s food order on the bench in front of the truck’s parking spot, then walked the few steps over and into the two guys’ conversation. Even mirrored the stance of the two men as if she were in on whatever was being discussed. “The waitress said they’d put it on your card, but I just went ahead and paid for it. My treat.”
“Thank you. I do like their bacon hamburgers. And their prices.”
The three of them laughed, breaking the tension of the day. It struck Cain that they had settled into a triangle on the hood. Triangles were one of the strongest bases in the world. Maybe the three of them could at least connect some dots for the past twenty-four hours. At this point, the more people, events, happenings, sightings and more that could be grouped into a circle, the better their chance of narrowing that circle.
“Now what’s this about footprint casts?” she asked. “Did you find some shoe prints around Peyton’s or my house?”
“Mainly at your house.” Kennett scrunched his shoulders against a sudden gust of cold wind. “As I’m sure you know, the police always look for clues…footprints, fingerprints, hair…anything like that. Footprints are easier to find in mud or snow.”
“And we had an inch or so of snowfall late last night,” Betsy said.
“Right. Plus, that area being shaded by the pine branches, there was some snow from the storm still left, also.”
A tentative quiet settled awkwardly around the three of them. Kennett stared at the hood in front of him. Betsy seemed intently concerned with her gloved hands, fidgeting to press the fingers between each other, then flattening them out to begin again.
She bit the side of her lip and made sure not to make eye contact with either of them. “So has anyone heard the latest weather for?—”
“Betsy, you were really scared when you got in my truck this morning.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“You kept looking back at the front porch.”
Again, she nodded. “Okay.”
“And when we came back to your house, you mentioned someone might have been there by the porch when we left. Right?”
“Yes.” Slowly she closed her eyes, then wiped the corner of her right eye. “Wouldn’t have been the first time.”
