“Wild man? What do you mean, wild man?” And why in the world had she been summoned to the station?
Keri glanced toward the back again and when she spoke, her voice was rushed. “Like the guy’s never lived in civilization before. Like a . . . like a caveman. Wait until you see—” Keri’s words cut off abruptly as footsteps sounded and a second after that, Dwayne Walbeck, Helena Springs’s sheriff emerged from around the corner, tipping his chin as he spotted Harper.
“Harper. Thanks for coming.”
“No problem, Dwayne.” Harper glanced at Keri quickly but she had already turned away toward her desk. Wild man? Harper turned her attention back to Dwayne. “What’s going on?”
Dwayne looked to where Keri had taken a seat at her reception desk, her head tilted in a way that let Harper know she was hanging on every word. Despite her current confusion—and the trickle of dread moving down her spine knowing that something awful
had happened to someone in her small town—a smile teased at Harper’s lips. Keri was as sweet as she was nosy, and everyone in a twenty-mile radius knew exactly where to go if they wanted to find out the latest gossip. It was a wonder Dwayne kept her around. Although normally, her loose lips weren’t too much of an issue—generally, the most newsworthy thing coming out of the station was an occasional drunk and disorderly.
“Keri, hold my calls, will you?” Dwayne shot over his shoulder.
“No problem, Dwayne,” she sang.
Dwayne placed his hand on Harper’s shoulder as he led her to the back of the station where his office was located, along with two holding cells, and a small interview room that mostly served as a break area for Dwayne, Keri, and two deputies, Paul Brighton and Roger Green.
“Dwayne, what in the world is going on?” Harper asked once they’d entered the interview/break room and he’d closed the door.
Dwayne picked up a remote and turned on a monitor hanging on the wall to Harper’s left. She turned toward the screen. It showed one of the two holding cells, and a man was sitting on the bench attached to the wall, staring straight ahead.
Harper tilted her head, moving closer, her gaze zeroing in on the man. He was wearing regular blue jeans, stretched taut over muscular thighs, but his jacket was anything but usual. Was it made of . . . animal fur? Patched together in a way that made it look hand . . . sewn. She couldn’t make out the details of the jacket’s specific construction from the picture on the screen, so she didn’t even know if that was the right word. In any case, his boots—footwear—were made of the same pieced-together animal skins and went halfway up his calves. He suddenly looked up, his eyes moving directly to the screen as though he knew she was there—or at least knew a camera watched him, and Harper took a step back like he really could see her and she should be embarrassed for staring at him the way she was.
“Recognize him?”
She shook her head, taking in his face still aimed directly at her. Straight brown hair framed it, choppy in a way that made her think he’d cut it with some sort of dull cutting tool. His jaw was shadowed by facial hair somewhere between heavy stubble and a short beard, and despite his overall unusual appearance, she could see that he was handsome, albeit in a way that made her wonder if he bathed.
And if so, where? In an icy stream? The picture her mind conjured wasn’t unpleasant, and ashamed of herself, she pushed the image aside.
“You sure you never ran across that guy either on a guided tour or when you were out by yourself?”
No, I’d remember him. Harper shook her head again.
“He might’ve been wearing something less conspicuous. Especially if it was summer.”
Like what? A loincloth? Somehow, she didn’t think that would be any less conspicuous. “I’m sure. Who is he, Dwayne?”
Dwayne blew out a breath, shutting off the monitor. Harper felt a momentary twinge of loss that was totally bizarre. But truthfully, she wanted to study him. She wanted to be left alone in this room and watch him on that camera for a little while just to see what he would do. As if he's some kind of alien life and not a human being? What’s wrong with you, Harper?
“Says his name is Lucas. That’s it. No last name. Just Lucas.”
Harper furrowed her brow. “I don’t get it.”
Dwayne rubbed at his eye and Harper suddenly realized how tired he looked. “I don’t either yet.” He leaned on the edge of the table. “I suppose Keri mentioned there’s been another murder?”
Harper nodded. “Yeah. Can you tell me who?” Harper’s stomach clenched. She’d kept her mind from drifting to that question, because she knew that whomever it was, she’d probably either know them, or know them well. With a population of two thousand residents, Helena Springs was too small for that not to be the case.
Dwayne nodded. “A man by the name of Isaac Driscoll, who lived in a cabin about twenty miles south of town.”
South?
Harper blinked in surprise. There was nothing south except plains, mountains, rivers, and valleys, miles and miles of unforgiving wilderness. Snow and ice-covered unforgiving wilderness at the moment. Nothing particularly habitable . . . or so she’d thought.
Dwayne continued. “The victim was somehow able to reach his cell phone and dial 9-1-1. He didn’t speak, but a cell tower helped pinpoint his location and he died before Paul could get there. The old cell tower used to get us to within a thousand feet, but the new system gets us to within thirty. Nice piece of technology. Anyway, Paul thought it was probably the usual, a lost hiker or something of that nature.” The lines around his eyes tightened for a moment. He looked concerned that those words would hit her in a personal way, and he was right.
But she shook off the feeling and focused on the situation at hand. A hiker? Anyone hiking out in that direction this time of year would have to have a few screws loose. Or . . . be very lost. The memory rose again and with more effort, she mentally pushed it aside as Dwayne continued.
“When Paul got out to the remote area where the ping had come from, he spotted a cabin in the distance.”