Arn grabbed a flashlight from his glove box and retraced where he’d seen the man disappear inside the barn. In the dust and horse droppings on the barn floor, indistinct footprints showed where he’d stood against a stall. For how long? Had he watched Arn approach, or had he waited until the blackness swallowed Arn up before sneaking out the opposite door?
A chestnut mare hung her head over the top rail of the stall as if to say hello, and Arn cradled her head in his arm as he stroked her head. “Where the hell did that guy run to?” The horse nickered her reply—which was no help at all to Arn—and he left her to resume munching hay.
He bent and ran his hand over the marks in the snow and dust: faint and indistinct. He could tell nothing from the footprints, except their direction toward the open opposite end of the barn. As if the man wore no shoes at all.
He stood, his back popping, and played his light around inside. Light reflected off something white against one wall. A strip of sheet, perhaps six inches square, hung on a protruding nail that had snagged it.
Arn snatched it from the nail: It looked like any other sheet he’d ever seen. Except it was from the sheet Ana Maria’s stalker had worn when Arn first spotted him outside, nearly blending in with the snow. The stalker was no dummy: he’d stripped off the white sheet after entering the darkened barn.
Arn slipped the patch of sheet carefully inside his jacket pocket. The smallest shred of evidence often was the piece he needed to complete the puzzle. He started out the back end of the barn when he caught a whiff of some overpowering odor. Horse liniment? Cologne, perhaps? Then it was gone, as quickly as the wind had blown it past his nose.
He hobbled away from the barn and followed the indistinct tracks in the snow. No tread pattern. Nothing sharp enough to indicate the shoe size or type. But the shuffling in the snow headed directly for his own car.
Arn approached his car from the blind side, the trunk side, leading with his gun. He crouched under the driver’s window. When he stood, he turned on his flashlight and shone it inside the car. He breathed deeply when he saw no one and slipped his revolver back into his coat pocket.
He looked around a final time before climbing inside his car. When he sat on the seat, something jabbed his butt. He leaned over and grabbed the small plastic object before he turned the dome light on and held it up for a closer look.