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“What were you doing down there?”
“Didn’t I tell you on the phone?”
“I’d like to take notes this time.”
He gave her an easy smile of reassurance, but she knew he was checking her story for inconsistencies.
“Late-night run. With all the trick-or-treaters out tonight, I waited until much later than usual because the costumes upset Harold. The night was so pretty that I just kept going.”
“Did you see anyone out on the streets?”
She paused, considering. “Nope—not after eleven-thirty.”
“Hear anything unusual?”
“Some people partying at a house along Bailey, coyotes out in the hills, a few backfires, but I didn’t see any cars go by.”
“Could you tell where the sound of those backfires came from?”
“Hmm...” She gave a small, regretful shrug. “Not for sure, I guess. I didn’t think much about it.”
“Have you ever seen Leon out on the street late at night when you’re running?”
“Never, so that seemed a little strange. Have you?”
Nathan didn’t look up from his notebook. “What did he say to you?”
She gave a short laugh. “That’s easy. He said no to going to the ER and no to a doctor, repeatedly. That’s why I called to report the situation. So tell me, what sort of wound does he have?”
“The docs found a small-caliber bullet embedded in his arm.”
“That poor man.”
“It was likely shot from a long distance away. Otherwise, this type of bullet would have gone right through. In the dark, the shooter might not have even known Leon was out there.”
Flipping his notebook shut, Nathan pushed back away from the table, rose, and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow at one.”
He was halfway through the door when he stopped, rested a hand high on the door frame and looked back at her. “We talked about this once before after Earl died. But just out of curiosity—how would you defend yourself if you were out by yourself some night and someone suddenly came after you?”
“I’ve got Harold and I’ve taken a few self-defense classes.” She stood and made a show of flexing her muscles. “Though I’d definitely run first and ask questions later.”
“And if the guy had a gun?”
“I’d cooperate long enough to figure out how to get away.”
“You’d better be careful.” He studied her, his expression grave. “There’s no telling who fired that shot, but if he fired carelessly once, he could do it again. No one will be safe until I find out who pulled the trigger.”
* * * *
“LEON STARK got shot last night,” Nathan said as he rested his forearms on the white picket fence surrounding Clay’s front yard.
Clay glanced up from the stack of mail he was thumbing through. “Is he dead?”
“A minor wound. Looks like a .223.”
“He’s a crazy old coot like his dad was. Maybe he riled some customer.”
“Or he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have.”
