I came close to having a baby on my own today. That takes guts.
You know what else takes guts? Calling Pat Lamone’s bluff.
“It’s time to take a few risks,” I say. “Why should we let Lamone have the last say in this? Why should we let him ruin our lives?” I stand up, straight and tall. “Let’s go into town.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m damned sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brock
I kneel, Dale’s flashlight still strapped to my hat. “I found something.”
I pick it up. Shine my light on it.
“What is it?” Dale asks.
“It’s another red fingernail. A fake plastic fingernail, like the one Donny found outside.”
“Which means…” Dale scratches his head. “Whoever moved whatever was in this attic space was wearing plastic fingernails?”
“That’s not what it means at all. It means that one of the bodies they moved was probably wearing plastic fingernails.”
“Yeah,” Donny says. “First of all, anyone coming to do heavy criminal work like moving decaying bodies wouldn’t be wearing plastic fingernails.”
“Women can do dirty work,” I say.
“Sure they can, but would they really be wearing plastic fingernails to do it? They were probably wearing gloves, regardless of gender.”
I nod. “Good point. Which means these fingernails are from one of the bodies they moved, or they’ve been planted.”
“Damn,” Donny says.
I clear my throat. “I don’t know who’s behind this. But here’s the thing. Maybe they were planted, but we don’t know that. I think we have to go on the assumption that these are clues whether they were planted or not.”
“I agree,” Dale says.
“Have either of you found anything else suspicious up here?” I ask.
“I haven’t,” Donny says.
“Me neither.” Dale shakes his head. “We’re dealing with people who know what they’re doing. Which means it’s all the more likely that these fingernails have been planted. One outside the building and one up here.”
“Could be,” I say, “but what if they aren’t? What if they came off one of the bodies that was up here?”
“We don’t even know for sure that bodies were up here,” Donny asserts.
Dale shakes his head again. “Don, we know. You know that we know.”
“You’re sure about the smell, then?” I say.
Dale nods. “As sure as I am about anything else in my life, Brock. That’s not something you forget.”
“So what now?” Donny asks. “It’s not like we can search for some woman who might have eight red plastic fingernails. It won’t work.”
“No,” I say, “but we can give these to Hardy. Get them dusted for fingerprints.”
“They’re awfully small,” Dale says.
“True.”
I’m out of ideas. My cousins know more about deranged people and how they think than I do.
“Here’s what we have for now,” Donny says. “Two fingernails and some bones.”
“Let’s get them all checked for DNA.” I rub my chin against a suddenly uncontrollable itch.
“Agreed.” Dale removes his Rockies cap and scratches the top of his head. “We’ll get somebody to run fingerprints and DNA. But not Hardy.”
“Got it,” I agree. “We’ll get our own people on this.”
“In the meantime,” Donny says, “what else do we do here?”
“I don’t think there’s anything else to do here,” I say, “but we’d better go to those other GPS coordinates before someone moves all the evidence from there as well.”
“How do you think they know we were here?” Donny asks.
“Probably something as simple as footprints,” I say.
“But there’s no mud, just solid ground. No prints. Except where I stepped in the dog shit that first time.” Then his eyebrows fly up. “Dog shit! That’s it!”
“What are you thinking, Don?” Dale asks.
“Whoever was here has a dog. I know that doesn’t mean a lot. Lots of people have dogs. But whoever comes here brings a dog. Maybe two dogs.”
“Or a couple of strays just hang out here,” Dale says.
“No,” I say. “Remember what we found last time? Dog shit inside the barn. If strays came here to seek shelter, they wouldn’t be shitting in the barn.”
“Exactly,” Donny says.
“So they have a dog or dogs,” Dale says. “How does that help us?”
I widen my eyes. “Oh my God.”
“You see what I’m saying?” Donny smiles.
“Yeah. This is a clue. They use canines.”
“They could just be bringing pets around.” From Dale.
“Really? I doubt it,” I say. “These dogs are trained. Otherwise they wouldn’t bring them. Dogs would just get in the way. Especially around decaying bodies. They’d be going crazy.”
“Okay, I see your point,” Dale says. “But how exactly does this help us?”
“They’re probably trained guard dogs,” I say. “We may be able to trace these people that way.”
Dale cocks his head. “Would guard dogs shit inside a barn?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” I ask. “They don’t live here. It’s just like outside in here, ground and all.”
“I think guard dogs have to be registered in most states,” Donny says. “Except that whoever these people are, they aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens.”
“No,” I say, “but they had to have their dogs trained somewhere. It’s a long shot, but we might be able to trace them that way.”
“Okay…” Dale puts his baseball cap back on his head. “The idea has merit, but still it’s going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“I agree,” I say. “But that’s all we’ve got, Dale. That, some old bones, and plastic red fingernails. What do you think is the most easily traced?”
“Dogs,” Dale finally relents.
“I can look into it. Put Callie on it,” Donny says. “We’ve got the databases at the office.”
“Perfect,” I say. “I know it’s not much, but what else can we do?”
“We can get out to those other coordinates as soon as possible,” Dale says.
“Problem is, we all have other things to do,” I say. “We all have jobs. Jobs that don’t wait.”
“What about tomorrow?” Dale says. “Sunday.”
“The winery may be closed on Sunday, but the beef ranch isn’t, Dale,” I say.
“The winery never closes. I always have to be watching fermentation. But if you can’t make it tomorrow, maybe Donny and I can.”
“Tomorrow won’t work for me,” Donny says. “Sorry.”
Dale sighs. “All right. You’ve convinced me. We need some recovery time after today. In the meantime, we’ve done everything we can here for now.”