Pederson shrugged. “There wasn’t much in the report. That’s why I need to talk with her in person.”
“Can I ride along?” Cassie asked. “There’s not much I can do here.”
She gestured at Thomsen, Pompy, and Bull, who were in animated conversation about past elk hunts. Bull handed over his long-barrelled .44 magnum revolver for them to admire.
Pederson shrugged and said, “Sure, come on along.”
“Let me get my notepad,” Cassie said, turning on her heel to go back to her room.
Bull told Pederson, “Meet us at the Gardiner Market down the road. You can leave your Yukon there and ride the rest of the way with us. We need to get some big steaks, don’t we guys?” he asked Thomsen and Pompy.
“Damn right we do,” Thomsen hooted.
“Cassie,” Bull said, “throw your stuff in my truck before you go.”
*
“IT’S LIKE THEY’RE boys going on a camping trip,” Cassie said sourly from the passenger seat.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Pederson said. “I’m kind of feeling that way myself.”
“Oh, great.”
The sheriff smiled. “This is a lot more exciting than working car crashes on I-90.”
“So tell me about this high school girl.”
“Her name is Joanne Vinson. She’s seventeen. I know her parents, Art and Pat. Art works for the railroad. They’re good folks and Jo isn’t the type of girl who would file a false report. Or at least I don’t think she is.”
“What were the circumstances last night?”
“Well,” Pederson said, “if you can wait five minutes we’ll both find out. We’re almost there.”
*
THE VINSON HOME was a dark gray one-story bungalow on West Callendar Street. The morning breeze rattled dead cottonwood leaves that still hung in the single tree. There was a small yard and two older vehicles in front: a Dodge minivan and a GMC pickup. The windows were filled with Halloween decorations and there were two jack-o’-lanterns on the porch.
Joanne Vinson sat bent over in the middle of a worn couch underneath an elk head that looked frozen in mid-bugle. She had a cherubic face framed by lank brown hair, and she clasped her hands nervously on her lap. She had large brown eyes that darted between her mother, who stood in the threshold of the kitchen, and Sheriff Pederson.
“Tell the sheriff what you told me and the deputy last night, Jo,” Pat Vinson said.
“Nothing really happened,” Joanne said with a roll of her eyes. She seemed embarrassed, Cassie thought.
“But it could have,” Pat said.
Pederson settled into a lounge chair directly across from Joanne and leaned forward toward her in a comforting manner. Cassie stood to the side behind him.
“Just tell me what happened, Jo.”
Cassie observed carefully as Joanne reached up and gently clawed her fingers through her hair. The girl was heavyset but not obese. She was almost pretty and she went too heavy with eyeliner. She was uncomfortable being the center of attention. Cassie felt a kinship with her right away.
“Well, I went to the game last night.”
“In the minivan,” Pat interrupted. “Without asking.”
Joanne rolled her eyes and ignored her mother. “I was supposed to go with some friends but they didn’t pick me up. I think they forgot so I drove there myself.”
Pat said, “Art was working and I was at my bridge club.”
Pederson took a deep breath and also ignored Pat.
“So you drove to the game. Did you meet your friends there?”
She shot a glance at her mother and said, “They were there.”
“Tell him,” Pat said.
“It was kind of a big party night,” Joanne said. “I didn’t want to have more than a couple of beers so I decided to come home before the game got over. The minivan was on the far end of the parking lot since I got there late. So it was a long walk.”
“You were by yourself?” Pederson asked.
Jo looked down at her hands. “Yes.”
Cassie wanted to walk across the floor and hug her. There was nothing worse at that age than admitting you were alone on a Friday night.
“So what happened next?”
“I got in the van and it wouldn’t start. I turned the key and nothing happened.”
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“No kidding. I don’t know anything about cars and dad wasn’t home.”
“I don’t know anything about them either,” Pat said from the threshold.
“Okay,” Pederson said to Joanne, “What did you do?”
“Well, I thought maybe I’d walk back to the stadium and find somebody who could help me get it started or give me a ride home. I didn’t want to call mom because I didn’t want her yelling at me.”
“Like I’d yell at you,” Pat said, nearly shouting.
“Please, Pat,” Pederson said.
Pat folded her arms across her breasts and huffed.
“When I got out of the van I saw a man,” Joanne said. Cassie shifted her weight.
“What was he doing?”
“Nothing, really, I guess. He was sort of walking through all the parked cars. But he was kind of headed my way.”
“Kind of headed your way or headed your way?”
“He was coming toward me but he had to keep walking around parked cars.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No.”
“What was he wearing?”
She frowned. “It was kind of weird. He had on like a pair of coveralls. They were all one color. Like my dad wears on the railroad.”
“Were they white?” Cassie asked.
Joanne looked up and Pederson looked over his shoulder at her. Both were apparently surprised Cassie had spoken.
“Yeah, light colored. How did you know that?”
“I was just guessing,” Cassie said. To Pederson: “Sorry.”
“Okay,” he said. “Did the man speak to you?”
“Yeah. He saw me there next to the van and he asked me if I needed some help.”
“What did you tell him?”
“You know,” Joanne said, “I normally would have said ‘Sure!’ But there was something about him—I don’t know. He was sort of creepy. I mean, he seemed nice and everything. He wasn’t growling at me or staring or anything. But the way he just sort of showed up right then … I don’t know.”
“So what did you say?”
“I lied and told him I was waiting for my friends to show up.”
“Then what?”
“He didn’t leave. He just kind of stood there.”
“What did he look like?”
“He looked like a normal man, I guess. An old guy just standing there like he didn’t know what to do. I was afraid I insulted him.”
“When you say old guy…”
“He was in his fifties, maybe sixties. He was kind of square built if you know what I mean. Fat, but not really humongous. He had a big head but I couldn’t see his face because it was dark. He wore a cap like everybody does.”
“White guy?” Pederson asked.
“I’m sure.”
“So what happened next?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure what to do because he just stood there kind of blocking my way back to the stadium. I thought about getting back in the van and locking the doors, but I was still afraid of being rude, you know?”
“Did he say anything else?”