“Why did you want him to tell you?” I asked.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Because I didn't want to lose. There are more people up here this year and he was making noise about Delilah making it super hard to find. I got nervous. I wanted to keep my streak alive. So...so I tried to pay him off. I told him I wouldn't tell a soul and no one would think anything of it because I've won so many times before. But he refused.” He chewed on his lip, then took a deep breath. “I got mad. He got mad. We yelled at one another. He walked away. Far as I know, he didn't tell anyone.”
I nodded, listening.
“Then I felt stupid about it,” he said “I tried to apologize but he avoided me. Then he was...well, you found him. But I didn't do a damn thing to him. I wouldn't ever do that. That ain't me.”
I couldn't believe that anyone would be willing to make a bribe to win a scavenger hunt. That was just absurd. But there was something about the way Hackerman said it that made me believe him. He may have been a cheat, but he wasn't a killer.
“Okay,” I said. “I believe you.”
“Well, you should,” he huffed. He slid back into his golf cart. “It's what I told the sheriff and it's the truth.”
He stepped on the gas and his wheels spun, then caught and he sped away, up the hill.
I watched him go. I did believe him. I thought it was crazy that he cared so much about winning the medallion that he was willing to bribe Harvey, but I'd seen a lot of crazy over the previous few days.
Wayne Hackerman just fit in with everyone else at Windy Vista.
TWENTY EIGHT
As I drove the golf cart back to the cabin, I couldn't shake Delilah's words. All of this stuff had happened at Windy Vista and I was having a hard time believing it was a complete coincidence. For a place that supposedly hadn't had much trouble in the past, it was now overflowing with it.
Jake was passed out on the bed in the camper, still in his running clothes. He must have come back while I'd been chasing Chuck and Jaw through the campground and I wondered briefly if he'd seen me, tearing down the road at breakneck speed. I sat down on the bed, my hand outstretched, intending to wake him up and tell him everything he'd missed.
But then I paused, my hand arrested an inch above his shoulder. Maybe I didn't want to tell him everything right away. Maybe I could use the time he was sleeping to do a little more of something he didn't particular like me doing: investigate. I stood up slowly, wincing when the bedsprings squeaked. I tiptoed away from him and closed the door to the room. I fished a pen out of my purse and scrawled a note on a paper napkin.
Running to town. Be back soon.
I purposely didn't tell him what I was going to be doing in town because I was pretty sure he would've told me I was nuts. Which was fine, because I probably was a little nuts. And I was okay with that.
I found the keys to the rental and, after a cursory look at the new tire, climbed in and pointed it toward town. I pulled out of the campground and, after a few minutes, passed the golf course and the lake. I glanced at my phone every few seconds, waiting to see when reception would kick back in. Within a minute of hitting the lake, two bars appeared on my screen and I typed in my destination. The talking voice on my phone directed me past The Landing and beyond the small area that housed Davis Ellington's realty agency, down a two-lane highway that eventually led to a county government building. It was housed in an old fire station, complete with oversized garage doors. Two white pillars had been erected out front, probably in an effort to give it a more stately appearance, but they looked off-center and slightly out of place.
I pulled the rental into the mostly empty lot and parked beside a dusty old station wagon. I made my way toward the front of the building, surveying my surroundings. There was an empty lot to the right that housed the remnants of a building and a parking lot pitted with weeds. To the left was a small deli. It looked well-kept but a Closed sign hung in the window.
I opened the door to the building and stepped inside. A woman with grayish-blond hair and wearing a brown sheriff's uniform looked up from her desk. She offered me a frosty smile.
“Afternoon,” she said, adjusting the thin, gold rimmed glasses perched on her nose. “Help you?”
“I'm not really sure,” I said, looking around the small, wood-paneled office. “Is this the town jail?”
She pushed the glasses up her nose. “Among other things, yes.”
“So if someone was arrested, this is where they'd be brought?”
“Hence, the word jail...”
I tried not to frown at her tone. “Right. Of course. If I wanted to speak to someone who is...in jail...would I be able to do that?”
The woman studied me for a long moment. “Are you an attorney?”
“No.”
“A law enforcement officer?”
“No.”
“Related to anyone we might have incarcerated here?”
“Uh...no.”
She picked up a pen from her desktop and tapped it against the desk calendar beneath her elbows. “Ma'am, why don't you tell me why you're here and I'll see if I can help?”
I took a deep breath. “My name is Daisy Savage and I'm a guest over at Windy Vista and...”
“Oh, you're the one who found Harvey,” she said, both eyebrows lifting up in unison.
“Um, yes,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. It wasn't something I wanted to be known for. “Actually, my husband was there, too.”
“But you were the one who found his body, correct?” she asked. “I read the report.”
“Yes,” I answered. “Unfortunately, I was.”
“I liked Harvey,” she said. Her eyes studied me, as if she somehow thought it as my fault that he'd died. “Known him and Kat for a long time.”
“I've only heard good things.”
“I'm sure,” she said. She tapped the pen again. “I'm sorry. I interrupted. You're staying at Windy Vista.”
“Yes,” I said, relieved to move on to a different subject than Harvey. “And there's been some other trouble up there.”
“I've heard.”
“I'm sure. And this afternoon, two men were caught breaking into the camper my husband and I are staying in.”
“Yes.”
Her short answers were disconcerting to me. I didn't know if there was a reason for them or if that was just the way she talked.
“They were apparently stealing a router,” I said. “That you use for the Internet.”
“I'm familiar with routers and what they do.”
“Right.” More heat flooded my cheeks. “Anyway, I'm assuming they were brought here after they were picked up.”
“Correct.”
“And I was hoping I might be able to...speak to them.”
She studied me again, the pen bouncing on the desktop. “May I ask why, ma'am?”
It was a fair question. I just wasn't sure I had a good enough answer for her.
“Because...I just want to know why they did it,” I said, truthfully. “A lot of strange stuff has happened up there and this was the second time they'd been at our camper and I just want to know what exactly they were doing.”
“They were stealing your router, from what I understand,” she said.
“Yes, I'm aware, but...”
“And they are well known to us around here, ma'am,” she said with a sigh. “This isn't unusual for them to be here.”
“I understand, but if I could just speak with them...”
She shook her head. “I couldn't allow that even if they were still here,” she explained.
I started to argue, then stopped. “If they were still here?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“They're gone?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“How is that possible? They were just brought in not too long ago.”
“They bonded out immediately,” she said.
“Really?”