13. Ridley

13

RIDLEY

I spread the map out over the picnic table, taking in Shady Cove and its surrounding areas. It had cost me ten dollars and fifty cents at the local gas station and was well worth the price. The paper version would’ve annoyed Baker, but there were times tech just didn’t give you the same perspective.

Grabbing a yellow highlighter, I popped the top and leaned over the map. It didn’t take me long to find the local park where Emerson had been taken—it was where I now stood. I placed an X there and circled it. Then I found all the other points of interest—her house, Cowboy Coffee, the school—and placed X' s there as well. I was sure there were other places she frequented, but I wasn’t certain how I’d find out what they were.

Next I went in search of the area Trey had told me he’d found Emerson in. It took me a couple of minutes to locate County Road 33. Once I did, I traced it with my finger until I came across Cattle Run Road. I placed another X in the section between there and Pine Butte, then circled it.

I covered the yellow highlighter and went back to the box. There was orange, pink, blue, purple, and green left. I went for orange first. Taking my time, I mapped out every possible route the unsub could’ve taken. There were seven.

It would’ve taken me a hell of a lot less time to drive them all, but driving them wouldn’t give me time to take in the details. Plus filming a route or two would give me good content to post on my social media accounts. The videos would really let people feel like they were in Emerson’s shoes. And if they felt that connection to her, they would do more to help. Maybe the locals would feel the same if they saw them too.

Glancing at my watch, I realized that I wouldn’t have time to ride one before my first meeting. My first interview. My first puzzle piece. I’d spent hours after my video call with Baker and Sully going over the files and sending countless emails for interview requests. I’d had exactly two bites. But they were two I didn’t have before.

Folding the map, I placed it back in my bag along with the highlighters. Then I swung the bag over my shoulder. I left my bike locked to the rack at the park and headed toward the tennis courts. I wanted to get a feel for it. To see what Emerson would’ve seen that night.

A yipped bark sounded, making me turn. A pack of three dogs strained against their leashes. There was a tiny fluffball whose eyes you couldn’t see, a midsize beagle mix, and a larger dog of indeterminant origin. And the woman gripping their tethers with all her might was familiar.

I grinned as I crouched down to greet them. “Hi, Celia.”

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “How’s Tater?”

I scratched the fluffball’s chin while the largest pup licked my face. “Living the dream and judging everyone who crosses her path.”

Celia chuckled. “As she should.” She studied me for a long moment, curiosity in her gaze. “Visiting the crime scene?”

News in small towns was no joke, but I straightened and nodded. “I’ve got an interview in a few minutes.”

Her mouth thinned into a hard line. “It was a dark period for us.”

“Would you want to tell me what it was like to live through?” I asked gently.

Celia’s brows flew up. “On your radio show?”

I fought the grin that wanted to surface. “It’s not actually on the radio.”

“You know what I mean. I can’t be bothered to keep up with what they call all this stuff. From the Ticker Tocker to the graham cracker. It’s all too much for these old bones.”

My lips twitched. “I don’t know. You don’t look too old to me, wrangling those three beasts.”

Celia cackled and bent to pet her dogs. “That they are. We’ve got to work on leash training before they can be adopted, but we’re having minimal success there.”

“You’re getting them used to new sights and sounds. I think that’s a victory.”

“You’re danged right,” she agreed, chest swelling with pride.

I pulled a card from my back pocket and handed it to her. “If you do ever feel up to sitting down, on the record or off, I’d love to get your take on everything.”

Celia frowned down at the rectangle of cardstock as if it held some sort of secret. “Don’t want to hurt anyone by flapping my gums.”

“I don’t think speaking the truth is ever a bad thing, especially not if it’s done with kindness and goodwill.”

She stared at the card for a moment before her gaze lifted to mine. “Grew up with Julie Sinclair’s mama. Would’ve broken her heart to see what happened to her family.”

Julie Sinclair was Emerson’s mother and I guessed Colt’s too. After finding out she’d died of a heart attack, I’d done as much research as I could on her, but there hadn’t been much to find. She married young to her high school boyfriend, who went into the army not long after they wed. He had been killed in a training exercise while serving.

What I hadn’t found in that research was the son they’d apparently had. Four years after her husband’s death, she remarried to a Shady Cove local, Franklin Sinclair. But Franklin had split when Emerson was six, leaving Julie a single parent.

“Julie never recovered from what happened to her little girl,” Celia whispered. “Even though she got her back, she saw monsters everywhere.”

“It’s easy to do when you’ve seen the evil out there,” I told Celia. “It just means we have to hold onto the good that much more. The only thing that can cast out darkness is light.”

Celia studied me for a long moment. “That’s a profound thing to have realized for someone so young.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes life teaches you lessons early.”

“Sometimes it does.”

Movement caught my eye as a sleek sedan pulled into the parking lot by the tennis courts. I hadn’t expected my interview subject to arrive in what looked like a top-of-the-line Mercedes, but maybe he had family money.

I glanced back at Celia. “I think that’s my interview. If you want to talk at any time, you’ve got my information.”

She nodded but her mouth had formed that tense line again. “I’ll think about it.”

“All I can ask,” I said, starting toward the sedan.

“Give Tater a snuggle for me,” Celia called.

I shot a grin back at her. “Will do.”

A door slammed, and I watched as my interview subject climbed out of his sedan. It seemed like the coach had kept up with his tennis practices or some other routine. He looked fit in his expensive-looking joggers and a polo shirt. But his smile was warm, accentuating the lines around his eyes. They were the kind of lines that told me he made the action often and that set my nerves at ease.

“Ridley Sawyer?” he asked as he crossed the parking lot toward me.

“Hi, Coach Kerr. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Not a problem.” He extended a hand. “And call me Bryan.”

I took his palm in a shake, appreciating the honesty of the calluses there, ones I was sure were courtesy of the hours he spent with a racket in his hand. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to sit?”

I gestured to the picnic table. It would give us a view of the courts for our conversation, points of reference for a better feel of that night.

Bryan shifted from one foot to the other, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. “Sure.”

I read his movements as nervousness but knew that a conversation like this would put anyone on edge. Lowering myself to the table, I reached into my backpack.

“I’d rather this not be on the record,” Bryan said quickly as he sat.

My eyes flared. He’d agreed to an interview, though I hadn’t specified whether that interview would be recorded. I slowly pulled my hand out of my pack. “Want to tell me why?”

His throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze pulling to the park and courts to his left. “There’s not a day that goes by I don’t kick myself for not staying around longer. For not waiting until Colt got here. But I’d had a long day, and all I was thinking about was myself.”

There was no denying the true guilt in Bryan’s voice and expression. It scraped at my skin, a reminder of all the lives that were affected by things like this, all the people who still bore the scars.

Bryan looked back to me. “I would love to help. Would love for the monster that took Emerson to finally be brought to justice. But I can’t put my family through all that attention being on us again. It nearly broke us the first time.”

It was my turn to feel the sucker punch of guilt. I knew that Bryan Kerr had been questioned twice before police retrieved footage from a local gas station that corroborated his alibi. But a lifetime could pass in the few days where people thought you might be capable of the worst.

“Off the record,” I promised. “Is it all right if I take notes?”

Bryan nodded. “That’s fine.”

I grabbed a notebook and pen from my pack. It would be better than tapping them out on my phone, because if I held the device, part of Bryan would always wonder if I was recording him somehow. Low tech or no tech was better.

“How long have you known Emerson?” I asked, starting us off easy.

A soft smile played at the coach’s mouth. “Around here you know just about everyone from birth. I went to school with Emerson’s mom, Julie. Remember when Julie brought her home from the hospital.”

“It must be nice, being a part of a community like that.”

“It is. Most of the time anyway.” Bryan took a deep breath. “Her being taken, it rocked us all. The kind of thing that makes you look at everyone with suspicion. But nothing like that has happened since, so I figure it must have been an outsider. Don’t you think?”

That was a reasonable assumption to make, but I couldn’t give him my certainty, no matter how badly he wanted it. “It’s definitely possible. I’m hoping I can find something that will point us in the right direction.”

Bryan nodded, scrubbing a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I don’t know how. Colt’s been circling back on this case every year since he joined the force.”

My fingers tightened around my pen at the mention of Colt’s name. I didn’t need a reminder of the sheriff and his razor-sharp tongue. “Sometimes an outside perspective helps.”

“Fair enough. How can I help?”

I appreciated the openness and willingness to aid however he could. “Think back to that time. Was there anyone who paid Emerson extra attention? Anyone who seemed to get too close?”

Bryan frowned, drumming his fingers on the picnic table. “Not that I can think of. Everyone liked to watch Emerson shine. She was one of those that even though she was shy, she radiated light. Kind and hardworking, and the best damn tennis player I coached in all my years.”

“And that skill meant people paid attention to her?” I pressed.

The coach nodded. “Couldn’t be helped. I had to pair her with the boys in practice because no one else on the girls’ team was even good enough to practice with her.”

I scrawled that little bit of information down. “Were the boys welcoming of her?”

Bryan’s lips twitched. “Some laughed when she kicked their butts. A few were salty about it.”

“Can you give me those names?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t?—”

“I just want to talk to them.”

Bryan’s mouth pressed into a firm line before he spoke. “Matt Anderson and Oren Mills come to mind. They both still live in town. Matt’s got a wife and three kids now. Oren works at the local mechanic shop.”

I quickly jotted the names down. “Do you?—”

The sound of an engine had me glancing up to see an older-model truck pull into the parking lot by the tennis courts. Even though it had some years on it, it was still in good condition.

Bryan’s eyes flashed with heat. “Are you interviewing Grady Smith?”

“Yes, but not for another thirty minutes,” I said, glancing down at my watch.

A muscle fluttered in Bryan’s cheek. “I’d rethink that if I were you. That man is a menace.”

“I can handle myself,” I assured him.

“I need to go,” Bryan said, swinging his legs around the bench.

“We barely talked?—”

The coach cut me off with a shake of his head. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said I’d meet you. Good luck, Miss Sawyer, but don’t contact me again.”

My jaw dropped. I’d had interviews end abruptly before, but it was usually because I’d touched on a sore spot. I watched as Bryan crossed to his sleek sedan just as Grady Smith climbed out of his truck. And the glare Grady leveled at Bryan was one that would’ve had me swallowing my tongue.