Cait saw Rook walking fast, his radio to his ear.
“Seal it up and bring everything back,” he said into the radio.
“What else was found in the cave?” Cait asked when he turned his radio off.
“Ammo for an AK-47.”
She narrowed her eyes on Rook. “Anything else?”
“Ammo for a thirty-eight S and W Special.”
Cait held her breath, her mind spinning. “The Smith and Wesson probably belongs to Wally’s accomplice. Anything else?”
“Paper cups from Peet’s coffee. We’ll have the lab check for DNA.”
She nodded. “How do you suppose he found the cave way out there?”
“Luck? Desperation? Who knows?”
“Put a rush on the DNA. I could be dead before the sun goes down.” She shielded her eyes. “What about the DNA on that wad of gum you sent to the lab?”
“Still waiting,” Rook said. “Takes longer than fingerprints.”
“Anything on that cowboy at the fairgrounds?”
Rook shook his head. “He’s not our guy, Cait.”
“I know you’re right, but don’t you want to know who he is?”
“There is one more thing,” he said. “The cave smelled of marijuana.”
“He’s smoking pot in the cave?”
Cait hadn’t realized how loud she’d spoken until a few heads turned to stare at her. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She spotted June standing on the sidelines in conversation with Alt and headed that way, until Ray stepped in front of her. She jumped back.
A shorter, stocky officer forced his way between Ray and Cait.
Ray glared at the officer. “Hey!”
“What’s your name?” the officer asked.
Ray stared at the officer, not intimidated by the uniform, badge, or the gun the officer’s hand rested on. “Ask her. She knows who I am. I want to talk to her, not hurt her.”
“Ray, ease up before he arrests you,” she said. She read the officer’s nametag. “It’s okay, Officer Hurley. I want to talk with him, too . . . in private.” She grabbed Ray’s sleeve and pulled him out of the sun and under the nearest tree.
“You sure have a way with men,” Ray said.
“Oh, hush. Thanks for letting the shows continue. I know it wasn’t an easy decision, but this has been a difficult time for everyone.” She saw Kenneth Alt weaving his way over, hesitate when he saw Ray, and then veer off in another direction. “I’m sure Wally’s still out there watching, but hopefully next month we won’t have to worry about him.” She waited for his reaction, but he remained silent.
She drew a deep breath and continued. “Ray, when I was a police officer, I shot and killed a bank robber. If I hadn’t, he would have killed another officer. I was protecting my people like you’re protecting yours. I understand. It’s who we are.” She inhaled deeply. “That bank robber’s brother is Wally Dillon, the face on the mug shot we’ve been showing around. Now do you understand why he’s here?”
Ray pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his forehead. “You could have told me sooner.”
“I hoped the problem would end and not escalate.”
He shuffled his feet and looked into the distance. “Everyone has some crisis in their life. I have some stuff troubling me, but nothing like yours. I’m sorry if I let it interfere with my work here. I owe where I am today in this crazy business to Tasha, the Grand Lady of Shakespeare.” He blinked, pursed his lips, and cleared his throat.
Cait wanted to reach out to Ray but knew he would reject any display of comfort. She waited to give him time to collect himself.
He smiled. “I can be an ugly SOB. When we’re together, it’s like striking a match. Sparks fly, tempers flare. But I like that you don’t take guff from anyone. We’re passionate about our work. At least I can apologize when I’m wrong. Sorry, Cait.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So does this mean you’ll be back next weekend for Macbeth?”
“Sure, but don’t expect any miracles.”
She grinned. “I always do.”
He nodded. “So we’re good?”
Cait looked around but no one was paying attention to them. “Something still bothers me. When your truck was broken into, you went ballistic. You wouldn’t talk about it. Does this problem still exist? Anything I can help with?”
Ray grimaced. “When your crew is clicking on all cylinders and everyone is working together, it’s a good feeling. I knew my mood interfered with work, but . . .” He shook his head. “Like most stage managers, I have visions of climbing the ladder. I like what I’m doing and I’m damn good at it. Been a stage manager for fifteen years. Now I’d like an opportunity to direct.”
Whoa, everyone wants to direct. She couldn’t visualize Ray doing anything but being a stage manager. He’d worked his way up and earned respect from everyone. She waited to see if there was more to his explanation.
Ray stared at her. “What?”
She shrugged. “What are you holding back?”
He paced in front of her. “You don’t mince words. I was offered a job directing a damn good play. Before the contract was signed, the offer was pulled because I was already committed.”
“Committed to what, Ray?”
“To Tasha and her Shakespeare festival.”
Cait’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t find the words to console Ray.
“Now you know all of it. Go mingle,” he said, “before everyone leaves.”