WEDNESDAY, 3:11 P.M.
BRIDGER COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE
Harper found herself relaxing in Laura Kemp’s presence. The forensic artist was easygoing and made her feel comfortable—an important aspect of the artist’s job. Detective Moffett had assured Harper that Laura had a real knack for creating composite drawings and was excited to have a reason to use her skills. The young woman had made Harper feel at ease during the interview process while she undoubtedly looked for signs of deception.
Though Harper knew what she’d seen and was able to describe the victim in detail, which made Laura’s job easier, she worried she would come off as edgy. That was never a good thing. Harper shouldn’t feel nervous, but if she blew this, Sheriff Taggart wouldn’t take her seriously. This was her chance to prove what she’d seen.
If Harper failed, the murdered woman’s case might not get solved.
On the wall behind Laura, a large map of the Jackson Hole area gave her something to look at. She took a deep breath and focused on the map. Describing the woman had brought back the horror and fear. “Her eyes. I can’t forget the terror in them.”
“I know it was a traumatizing experience. I’ll have you out of here soon. You’ve been great to work with, by the way.” Laura focused on the image she created.
The artist didn’t ask more questions because Harper had described everything she could remember about both the victim and the murderer. From Harper’s description, Laura had created a composite sketch of a man holding up a high-powered rifle. The rifle and the hunter’s cap had obscured his features. In the sketch, he could be anyone. Still, he’d had deep crow’s feet around his eyes, so she knew he was older.
Concentrating, Laura furrowed her brow, the scratch-scratch of her pencil on paper the only sound. “I hear you used to be a crime scene photographer.”
Harper was surprised that Laura hadn’t brought that up during the rapport or interview phase of the session.
“Yep. I’m taking a year off.” Harper had no intention of going into the reasons why. Best to redirect. “So how did you get into forensic art?”
Laura grinned and shrugged. “I’m artistic. Already worked for the department, so they sent me to some classes and here I am. I don’t get to do this often. We don’t usually get these kinds of crimes here.”
“Thank you for that.”
Laura glanced up from her work. “For what?”
“The way you said it, it sounds like you believe I witnessed a murder.”
“Of course I believe you. You know what you saw and have great attention to detail.”
“It’s my understanding that witnesses or victims will remember maybe four facial features. I tried to commit them to memory—but that could be distorted.”
“And that’s okay. My job is to present an image that allows for distortion. In other words, more like a caricature—people are more likely to recognize that than they are an exact image.”
“Like one produced on a computer.”
“Exactly.” Laura looked up from the drawing. “See what you think.” She showed Harper the sketch.
Harper took in the composite drawing and saw the victim she’d described. “I wasn’t expecting you to get the eyes.”
“You were good with details. I’m sorry for the woman, and sorry you had to go through this experience. At the same time, I’m glad this person had someone watching. Someone like you to take in all the details of the crime, the victim, and the shooter. Someone who could help find her murderer. If you think this is right, I’ll turn this over to the sheriff. Maybe no one knows she’s missing yet. We could also be on the lookout for the shooter, though he looks like most of the hunters around here. Except this isn’t big game hunting season.”
Deputy Herring opened the door and stuck his head in. “You done here? There’s been an incident at the Emerald M Ranch.”
Emerald M Ranch. Harper’s heart jumped to her throat. She hoped nothing had happened to Heath.
Laura glanced at Harper. “Yes. We were finishing up.”
The deputy nodded, then shut the door.
“If you don’t have any other business with Detective Moffett,” Laura said, “you’re probably good to go. I suspect her attention has been drawn elsewhere for the moment.”
Harper touched Laura’s arm. “Please, I know the guy who owns the Emerald M. Heath helped me at the river after I’d fallen. What’s happened at his ranch?”
“Let me see what I can find out. Wait here.” Laura disappeared, taking the pictures she’d drawn with her.
Harper paced the small room.
When Laura stepped back inside, her features were pinched. “I’m not sure if this information is correct. It sounds like a mistake. But I’m told there was an explosion.”
Harper gasped as she struggled to comprehend the words. “An explosion, as in a bomb? I heard something about mailbox bombs. Is anyone hurt?”
The forensic artist frowned. “I don’t know the details. You could wait around if you want, but you look exhausted and you’ve been through an ordeal yourself. Go home and get some rest. You can check back with us later and maybe someone will know more.”
Or call Heath. Except she didn’t have a cell yet. She would remedy that first thing.
Harper nodded and grabbed her purse. “I’d like to get a copy of those images, please.”
A few minutes later, Laura returned with a large envelope containing the copies. “Thanks again for coming in. Your help will be invaluable to the department in catching this guy. I’m happy to see you out.”
“Sure.” Harper followed her down the hallway. “Is there a phone I could use before I leave?”
Laura showed Harper to her small office. “Here, use mine. I’ll give you some privacy.”
Harper stared at the landline phone and was grateful she’d taken a moment to memorize Emily’s cell number. She hoped Emily was in a spot where she got reception.
Emily answered.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m surprised you answered.”
“Oh, thank goodness it’s you. The caller ID said Bridger County Sheriff. Scared me. I’m sitting in the perfect spot for a signal because I was just on the cell. I got us a campground in town! They didn’t tell you? One of the deputies worked some magic for us because of our situation.”
Sounded like Emily had worked some of her own magic.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m headed back to you soon.” She decided to wait to tell Emily about the explosion at Heath’s ranch.
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
Harper ended the call. She would try one more time to learn more about the explosion and Heath. She found Laura in the hallway. The deputy had geared up and was exiting the sheriff’s office.
“Laura, wait. Have you heard anything yet? Do you know if Heath is okay?”
Deputy Herring stepped up next to Laura. “Heath made the call for an ambulance,” he said. “He’s okay, but I hear someone’s hurt. We’re headed that way now.”
Both deputies’ expressions remained grim as they exited the offices.
Heath is okay . . .
She let the news sink in and calm her heart. But her concern for the person injured remained.
Copies in hand, Harper followed them out the doors and headed to her truck. She stopped off to get a cheap burner phone, then headed out of town and back toward Granite Ridge Campground, though she really wanted to drive straight over to the Emerald M Ranch.
Law enforcement would be all over that place, and she probably wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it. What had happened? Even if she showed up there, she couldn’t do anything to help Heath, though she wanted to offer the same comfort to him that he had offered to her.
Maybe . . . maybe even help gather evidence. She couldn’t believe she would even consider it—she hadn’t wanted to take photographs documenting acts of violence again. But two nights ago was a turning point for her. She admitted what she’d known all along—she could never truly get away from crime. Humanity lived in a fallen world. There was no getting around that. The nightmares and flashbacks and the memories of crime scenes she’d processed would keep her in this prison. Only God could help her out. If only she would let him.
Please, please, God, help me so I can help others. Help me let go of the anguish, the pain and suffering, and give it to you.
She momentarily squeezed her eyes shut.
The vehicle bounced as she steered onto the shoulder. She corrected her course and turned her thoughts back to Heath. If only she could help him somehow. But there was nothing she could do. Except pray. And it had been so long since she’d prayed. Would God even hear her? Would he listen to her prayers for Heath, for anyone who was in the line of fire?