Page 12 of High Country Escape
“What kind of jerk do you take me for?”
“You’re not a jerk. It’s just a touchy situation. I only told you because you’re the only person other than Roxanne who saw the guy. We don’t know how he feels about that, so watch your back.”
Dalton swallowed. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he might be in danger.
“I read your statement, but is there anything about this guy you left out?” Aaron asked.
“No.” He closed his eyes, trying to replay those few minutes by the side of the road. “He was yanking on the door pretty hard. I thought it was because he was in a hurry to get the driver out of the car.”
“Maybe he was,” Aaron said. “But not necessarily for a good reason. That is, if it even was Ledger. Has the sheriff contacted you yet?”
“No.”
“He wants you to come by the office and look at some photos. See if you recognize the man.”
“Sure. I can do that. I have a tour this afternoon.”
“Let Carter or Dad do it. This is more important.”
“What am I supposed to tell Mom?” Dalton asked. “She’ll freak if I tell her I have to be at the sheriff’s office.”
“Tell her it’s search and rescue business.”
“Bethany and Carter are with SAR, too.”
“I’ll call her and tell her I need your help with something,” Aaron said. “Official business.”
“That will make her even more curious.”
“You know how to evade Mom’s and Dad’s questions by now. Just get over here.”
“All right.”
Instead of phoning his parents, Dalton called Clayton Kinneson, a retiree who filled in giving tours during their busiest season. “Clayton, can you take my one o’clock tour today?” he asked. “Something came up.”
“Sure, I can do that,” Clayton said. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine. I just had an appointment I forgot about. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’m always happy for the extra money.”
That difficulty handled, Dalton drove to the sheriff’s department. As he turned into the alley leading to the parking lot, he passed a white sedan. The woman behind the wheel looked like Roxanne, but she didn’t see him wave. He parked and went inside.
An older woman with short, spiky hair, red-framed glasses and dangling earrings greeted him. “You must be Dalton,” she said. “All of you Ames brothers are like peas in a pod.”
“You really think so?” he asked. He and Carter might be identical, but Aaron definitely took after their father.
“You all have that same look in your eyes,” she said. “Like you’re plotting something.”
“Dalton isn’t plotting anything.” Aaron spoke from a doorway to their left. He motioned to Dalton. “Come on back.”
He followed Aaron to a small, gray room. Before Dalton had a chance to take a seat at the table there, the sheriff entered. Sheriff Travis Walker was tall and lean, with dark hair and chiseled features. He had a reputation for being firm but fair.“Hello, Dalton,” he said and shook Dalton’s hand. “Thanks for coming in. Have a seat.”
Dalton sat, and the sheriff opened the file folder he had been carrying. “We’re recording this,” he said, and nodded to the overhead camera. He recited the date and time and the names of everyone present, then turned his attention back to Dalton. “I’m going to lay out a group of photographs. I want you to look at them all carefully and decide if any of them are the man you saw beside Roxanne Byrne’s car yesterday. The suspect we’re looking for may or may not be in this group of photos, so don’t feel like you have to select one of them. Only tell us if you’re sure the man you saw is one of the faces I’m going to show you. Do you have any questions?”
“No, sir.” Dalton wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans, suddenly nervous.
Travis laid out six black-and-white photos on the table. Dalton leaned forward and studied each of them. He had expected to feel something if he recognized the man he had seen yesterday—somezingof recognition. Instead, he felt nothing.