Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,68
smoke and so he’d done as he’d been told and had scrambled out the window.
By the time Matt got out, within seconds Cameron had arrived and there had been no sign of anyone else in the area.
Although fresh snow should have yielded footprints, the area around Matt’s window was a muddled mix of prints...Matt’s and Cameron’s and Mary’s. They were so mixed up and smeared it was almost impossible to discern what other prints might have been there.
The firefighters had also marred the pristine snow around the entrance of the café where the glass door had been broken for entry. He only hoped that when Mills arrived to give his report he and the other deputies might have found some prints somewhere in the general area that could help lead to the suspect.
It was just around noon that Larry showed up, not only with his own report but with a handful of others from the deputies who had been on scene.
“Tell me something good,” Cameron said as he gestured Brooks into the chair across from his.
Larry winced and placed the written reports on Cameron’s desk. “Wish I had something good to say. The only real piece of evidence we discovered were boot prints leading away from the café.”
“From where to where?” Cameron asked, hoping this was finally the break they’d been waiting for.
“From the back of the café to the street. Unfortunately the street had already been plowed and we lost the prints there.”
“So, whoever was responsible headed toward Main Street. Do we know what size the boots were?”
“Ten and a half or eleven...and wide width with heavy tread. I’d guess our perp is between two hundred and two fifty pounds. Definitely not a woman’s boot.”
“And a fairly good-sized man.” Cameron blew out a sigh. “What about tread pattern?”
“I checked with three of the local stores and most of the boots sold in each of them bear the same kind of tread. It’s a common boot sold in the area.”
“Of course it is,” Cameron said with frustration. “We aren’t any closer to finding this guy than we were when Candy Bailey was murdered and what scares me more than anything is that I think he’s at his breaking point. The clock is ticking for our next victim.” And he was scared to death that the next victim would be Mary.
At three forty-five that afternoon, with no more clues coming to light, Cameron walked into the school to pick up Matt. The boy’s face wreathed in a big grin at the sight of Cameron and it was at that moment Cameron knew he could love this boy as his own.
“Hey, Sheriff Evans,” Matt said as he grabbed his book bag from a hook near the door of the room. “I told Mrs. Perry that you’d be here right on time. I told her you were the dependable kind.”
Cameron nodded to the teacher who smiled from her position at her desk. “I wasn’t worried about it,” she replied. “Even if you’re a few minutes late I can always use the extra time to grade a few papers.”
Matt sidled up next to Cameron. “I’m ready when you are. Thanks, Mrs. Perry,” he said.
Cameron nodded to the teacher and then the two left the building and got into the car. “Everyone asked me about the fire today,” Matt said, buckling himself in. “It was cool until lunchtime and then I got sad and I couldn’t help it. I started to cry.” He shot a quick glance at Cameron, as if to gauge his reaction to Matt’s confession.
“Sometimes you just get so emotional you can’t help but cry,” Cameron said, keeping his gaze on the road. “Do you know why you were crying?”
Matt fidgeted in his seat. “It’s just weird, you know, that my real dad is basically a monster who has killed women who I liked and now wants to kill my mom. I just got a little freaked out, you know scared that maybe I’ll grow up and be like my dad. Anyway, Mrs. Perry sent me to the counselor’s office and we talked.”
“Did it help?” He shot a quick look at the boy.
Matt nodded. “Mr. Wheeler talked to me about nature and nurture stuff and that my dad was just a blip in my life and I’m more likely to be like my mom and the men in my life now...more like you.” Matt turned his head and looked out the side window. “Most of the time I pretend you’re my dad.”