Page 74 of What She Saw

“Is that like Colton, to be late?”

“I’ve heard rumors about unpaid bills. But he offered me good money to do the job. He’s a hard man to say no to.”

Taggart wasn’t surprised to hear Colton wasn’t here with a check. This festival was proving to be one huge con. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Right.”

“All your units were lined up here?”

“Yeah, there were ten of them. They’re filled with trash and shit I don’t want to know about. It’s going to be a hell of a cleanup to get these back into service. I told him he needed more units.”

Colton wasn’t worried about destruction. His kind created chaos and then moved on, leaving the mess to others.

Taggart walked past the muddy square imprints where the units had rested. “Let me know if it doesn’t go well with Colton.”

“I will.”

Taggart moved toward the woods. During the festival, it had been filled with people who’d sneaked in or needed a place to escape the rain or get high.

Into the woods, the first thirty feet of ground was trampled flat. And judging by the smell, anyone who hadn’t been able to get into the latrine had used the woods. He kept walking.

The damage of too much humanity eased. The underbrush reappeared, and soon it looked as if no one had stepped on this part of the earth in a hundred years.

He cut through the thicket and trees toward the fire road.

He still didn’t know what he was looking for. Why would Patty or Laurie venture this far into the woods? He looked up toward the sun bleeding through the thick tree canopy. The trees would have slowed the rain, but it would still have been damp and cold. From here he couldn’t see the field through the thicket. In the dark, it would have been easy for a woman to vanish.

In the distance, white fabric flapped from a tree. As he moved toward the strip, plowing through the brush, branches grabbed his shirt and pant legs.

When he reached the cloth, he realized it was a T-shirt. Plain and white, it was small and fashioned for a woman. The fabric was ripped, and splashes of brown and red covered the front. He’d seen enough dried blood to recognize it. He imagined a large hand grabbing a fistful of fabric until it ripped. He left the shirt where he found it.

His gaze scanned the immediate area. Ahead, he spotted a single athletic shoe coated in mud and lying on its side. Like the shirt, it was a woman’s style. As he studied the distance between the shirt and shoe, he imagined a shirtless woman running in the dark. She was panicked, disoriented. Had she tripped and lost a shoe? Did her pursuer catch her? Did she fight? He couldn’t tell if she’d gotten away or if she’d been captured.

Taggart’s jaw pulsed. He reached for his walkie and radioed Brenda.

“Sheriff,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Brenda, has Sara Grayson heard from Patty?”

“No. And Monica Carr hasn’t heard from Laurie.”

Tension crept up his back.

“You think they have a reason to worry?” Brenda asked.

His gaze scanned the carnage. “Do me a favor. Call Paxton and tell him to meet me at the concert site at sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound good. You find something?”

“I’m not sure what I found. But we need to search this site.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sloane

Monday, August 18, 2025, 6:00 a.m.

Since I was a little kid, I’d never been a good sleeper. I’d often wake while my grandmother slept and roam the house. At first, I was content to search Sara’s desk drawers. But when that lost its appeal, I removed the contents of her purse, spread them out on the floor, and inspected each item. A few times I chewed her nicotine gum, but I decided I didn’t like the way it made me feel. I wasn’t a fan of drugs that altered my mind. That explained why Sara’s medicine cabinets, chock-full of antidepressants and sedatives, never interested me.