Page 33 of What She Saw

“How old was she?”

“I didn’t check her ID.” He brushed past Taggart. “Look, Sheriff, these events can get raw once the sun goes down. Girls are here for two reasons. They want to get on the stage, hoping for a break. We’re a small festival, so they assume they’ll get noticed easier. And then the others are looking to party hard and explore their darker sides. On nights like this, good and bad girls are all the same. And if I can have some fun along the way, then no harm and no foul.”

Taggart didn’t believe Colton, but there was no way of proving he was lying. This guy was not what he presented to be. And if he had any kind of complaints or evidence against him, Taggart would haul his ass into jail now. But he had nothing other than a damp set of women’s underwear.

Taggart turned and reached for the door handle.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Colton asked.

“Not my job to like or not like. I keep the peace.”

But Colton had hit the nail on the head. Taggart didn’t like Colton. He created perfect storms like tonight so he could watch them spin out of control and soak up the chaos.

“I like you. I appreciate how you care about those drunken slobs out there.”

“That’s what you think of them?”

A brow arched. “Am I wrong?”

Taggart stared at him a long moment. “Radio me if there’s any trouble.”

“Will do.”

Out in the rain, Taggart braced against the cold and the wet. The previous band had finished its set and the next was setting up equipment. These lulls were good for about thirty minutes. The latrines and food tents would be swamped. And anyone who’d brought a tent or had a car parked nearby would have retreated to dry off.

A feeling of helplessness washed over him as he stared at the crowd. The odds had been stacked against him in the past. And when disaster unfolded, he cleaned up the mess later. It was like that now.

Head bowed, rain pelting his hat, he moved toward the crowd. A group of three men dressed in security guard uniforms moved toward him. He hoped this was not the team Colton had mentioned.

He greeted the first man to reach him with an outstretched hand. “Glad to have the assist.”

“Sorry we’re late,” he said. “The dispatcher sent us to the wrong location. I’m Kevin Pascal and this is Ben and Roger. We’ve got more men coming, but it’ll be another hour.”

Taggart swallowed a curse. “Get into the crowd and do your best to keep the peace. A lot of drunks and drug use. Don’t focus on detaining anyone unless it’s dire.” The complaints would start rolling in tomorrow. He could already imagine calls for robbery and sexual assault.

“We’re armed with Tasers and nightsticks,” Kevin said.

“That works best in conditions like this. We have a security wagon by the main entrance. There are extra zip ties if you need them.”

“We have a few dozen each. But we’ll get more if necessary.”

The new band onstage struck up a chord, and the lead singer sauntered up to the microphone and shouted, “Hello, Dawson, you dirty motherfuckers!”

The crowd roared to life, fists pumping in the air as bodies jumped up and down. More guitar chords blared out from the stage.

Four songs in, a young female singer drifted to the edges of the stage. When the lead singer beckoned her forward, she strode toward him. She was tall and lean, with blond hair that skimmed her waist. She wore a halter top and jeans that rode low on her gently rounded hips. She crossed the stage, her blue guitar slung over her body, and stepped up to the microphone. The girl from the hamburger tent. Laurie.

As the lead singer began a cover of Tina Turner’s “Better Be Good to Me,” Laurie moved toward him, smiling as she strummed her guitar.She looked a little nervous as she belted out a few solid notes. The crowd cheered. And by the second refrain, she was smiling. When the song ended, the singer shouted, “Give it up for the superhot Laurie!”

Laurie waved. She grinned from ear to ear as she left the stage. Her moment in the spotlight had ended as fast as it started.

Chapter Twelve

Sloane

Saturday, August 16, 2025, 3:00 p.m.

Smiling, I walked up to the senior center’s reception desk. I hoped the news of my arrival had not reached the center yet. “Hey, I’m here to see Monica Carr. She’s been so amazing with my mother, and I want to thank her.”