What She Saw - 7

CJ Taggart

8 Hours Until

The festival was going to be a shit show.

Briggs had told him, again, not to worry. It would all be fine. Fine. Taggart hated that word. It always foreshadowed disaster.

He took the turnoff to the Nelson farm and wound his way up the road toward the venue. He’d been out to the farm a few days earlier. He’d walked the site and surveyed the entrance and exit locations. Beyond the main road, a rough-cut dirt service lane arrowed up the back of the property. It had been built for firefighting crews but hadn’t been used in years. According to the farm’s owner, fallen trees had made it impassable to vehicles. If there was an emergency, this site was a bottleneck. Taggart had ordered two guys from public works to clear a path yesterday. This new escape route was rough, but it was better than nothing.

Trucks and crews had arrived, and a large center stage had been constructed with the green mountains behind it. Workers hoisted lights up onto the rigging as other crews off-loaded large speakers. Trucks with trailers were parked at angles to make room for others coming and going. Even with the limited number of vehicles present, it was difficult to maneuver. His worries doubled.

Colton had picked this location for its spectacular Woodstock-type views. And right now, it looked stunning and reinforced all Colton’s promises.

A split rail fence ringed the farm, and beyond it stood a thick stand of trees. There was no security fencing to control anyone ready to slip in unnoticed. Five hundred people. Why did that number sound like Colton had pulled it out of his ass?

Taggart drove over grass crushed flat by a dozen other vehicles. He passed the first aid trailer and parked near the Depot’s food tent. Inside the Depot tent were prep tables, grills, and boxes of buns and condiments. The gal setting up the stations, Patty, worked the counter most breakfasts at the Depot. She was tall and lean and had tied back her ink-black hair in a ponytail. She couldn’t be more than nineteen and already had a kid. In the last week, the Depot had become a regular stop for him before work. Always friendly, Patty would fill his coffee cup before he settled on a counter stool.

Another gal worked beside Patty in the tent. He didn’t recognize her. She was young and blond and wore her hair in braids woven with strands of beads. She listened as Patty pointed to all the stations in the tent. No doubt she was here for the festival.

A rumbling multicolored VW van pulled in behind his car. The van hearkened back to the summer of ’60, right before he shipped out to Saigon. During that long, hot summer, he’d yet to enter the marines, and he’d been dating a girl who’d driven a VW van. Kelly. She hadn’t been his first, but she’d made him feel things he never dreamed possible. He still looked back on their weekend fondly.

A tall man rose out of this van. He had long dark hair that skimmed his shoulders, and a dark-blue Mountain Music Festival T-shirt stretched over his muscled chest. His jeans and boots were worn, and his deeply tanned skin looked more suited for sunny beaches than cloudy mountains. Rafe Colton, the festival promoter.

Taggart moved toward Colton. “Mr. Colton.”

Colton’s lips spread into a wide, disarming grin. His eyes twinkled with excitement. “Sheriff, call me Rafe.” He made a grimace. “My dad is Mr. Colton.”

“Right.”

“How’s your day so far?”

“Well, it was good until I walked up here.”

Colton’s smile remained warm as his gaze turned curious. “Why is that? It’s all coming together perfectly.” He surveyed the stage. “This place is going to be alive with people, music, and love in less than eight hours.”

“How are ticket sales going?” Taggart asked.

“Steady. About half sold.”

“Which means two hundred and fifty bodies?”

“Exactly right. We’ll sell more at the gate, but I doubt we’ll move all five hundred tickets. This concert won’t make anyone rich, but it’s going to be beautiful, spiritual. The music, the open air, and good energy. It never gets better.”

“I’m less worried about energy than I am the bodies.” Taggart glanced toward the overcast sky.

“I appreciate your concern,” Colton said. “You’re a man who knows his job.” Black beads rattled on his wrist as he pressed his hand to his heart. “I’ll be on-site during the entire event, and I’m here to help you. Stop worrying.”

Taggart had known a supply officer on Okinawa who had been a carbon copy of Colton. A wheeler-dealer, Sergeant Ken Jefferson could find anything for anyone—for a price. Everyone loved Sarge. Taggart had busted him for cocaine distribution, a move that was not popular with many. “It’s supposed to rain this weekend.”

Colton’s grin widened. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s still fifty-fifty. Be positive.” He leaned forward a fraction. “I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Taggart had known a lot of soldiers who’d been convinced they were bulletproof. Most were dead now. “How much extra security have you hired?”

“We’ve got twenty guys showing up before we open the gates. Also, their team is installing a few cameras.”

“That security proposal never hit my desk. What’s the name of the company?”

“Sorry. I forgot. Security will be handled by Woodward Security. They’re a solid firm. I’ve used them before.”

There was a lot Taggart didn’t know about this event.

“You started, what, last week?” Colton asked.

When Taggart had run the military police department, he’d had more control. You walked onto his base, and he owned you. But out here in the civilian world, he had more restrictions and less authority. His inexperience in this world now felt like a weakness. But he never let anyone get a whiff of his doubts.

“I’ve been in policing for twenty-seven years. Soldiers and civilians aren’t that different.”

“I bet the soldiers are tougher. They all carry guns, right?”

“People are people.”

“What can I do to erase your worries, Sheriff Taggart?” Colton asked. “I don’t like seeing you so troubled.”

“Cancel the festival.”

Colton laughed. “In too deep now. What else can I do?”

“Make sure that security shows, control your perimeter, and keep the lights on after sunset.”

“All top of my list, Sheriff Taggart.” Colton clasped his hands together. “I appreciate your concern.”

Colton had all the right answers. Slick, smooth, and pursued by trouble. “My deputy and I’ll be on-site an hour before the gates open.”

“Terrific. You’re amazing.” A truck driver honked his horn, catching Colton’s attention. When he looked past Taggart toward the stage, his smile faded a fraction. “Duty calls.”

“Sure, don’t let me stop you.”

“It’s going to be fine.” Colton pointed at him.

Colton’s easy smile vanished. He was no longer the salesman, and his expression turned direct. The driver jabbed his finger toward the stage, and Colton followed him toward the platform as another vendor hoisted more lights to the metal framework above.

“Sheriff!”

Taggart turned toward the woman’s voice and spotted Patty headed in his direction. His blood pressure eased. “Patty.”

She brushed a strand of hair off her forehead as she smiled. “Ready for the big festival?”

Something about her had a way of softening his mood. “Ready or not, it’s happening.”

She scrunched up her face in a mock frown. “You sound so negative. It’s going to be great.”

More tension melted from his muscles. “That so?”

“It is so,” she said. “I’ve already made fifty bucks making burgers for the work crews. That’s going to buy a lot of diapers.”

“How old is your baby?”

“She’ll be a year this summer. Cutting a tooth and already walking. She’ll run the world one day. You have kids?”

“No. Never been married.”

“Never too late.”

He laughed. “Too set in my ways.”

The second gal working the tent called out to Patty, drawing her attention. “Be right there.” She turned back around and smiled at Taggart.

“Looks like you have help.”

“That’s Laurie. She’s here for the festival. She’s a singer. Hey, Laurie, this is Sheriff Taggart.”

Laurie looked up and waved. “Hey!”

“She’s trying to make a few bucks before the bands take the stage.”

“A little extra dough never hurts.” As Laurie moved toward them, her gaze sparkled with an enticing youthful excitement.

Taggart nodded. “I’m sure the help is appreciated.”

“It is.” Patty picked up a box of supplies. “Grills are cool again, but we’ll fire them up in a couple of hours. We’ll hook you up with a burger.”

“Thanks.”

Her grin was infectious. “Do you always look worried?”

“I do.” He watched her explain to Laurie how to set up the station.

Taggart drew in a breath. He wanted to believe that it was all going to be fine. Shit, one of his ex-girlfriends had accused him of negativity enough damn times. But experience told him there were too many factors that said otherwise.

He strode back to his Crown Vic and slid behind the wheel. Angling out of the festival lot took a minute or two of maneuvering. An incoming truck inched through the entrance, forcing him to wait as it passed. When it was all clear, he drove down the road.

A half hour later, he was parking in his spot at the sheriff’s office. He unlocked the back entrance and closed the door behind him. His footsteps blended with the ringing of phones and conversations in the front reception area. In his office, he hung up his hat and flipped on his Toshiba computer. As the machine booted up and the screen flickered to life, Deputy Paxton appeared in his doorway.

“What do you need, Deputy?” Taggart asked.

“I’m going to run home for an hour or two. It’s going to be a long weekend, and I’d like to take a load off while I eat lunch.”

“Sure, go ahead. Where’s Sean?”

“Not feeling well. At home, but says he’ll be good to go by showtime.”

“I’ve got the desk covered. We need to be back at the festival site by four.”

“Will do.”

As Paxton turned, Taggart asked, “What do you know about Woodward Security?”

Paxton considered the name. “Never heard of them. You check the Yellow Pages?”

“Colton says they’re sending twenty security guards. I hoped to learn more about them other than their address and phone number.”

“All the festival planning was done after the old sheriff left and before you arrived. I wasn’t included in any meetings with the mayor and festival promoter, but I can call my buddies in Roanoke.”

“Do that.” It was too late to make any changes, but at least he’d know who he was dealing with.

“I’ll get right on it.”

“After you do, take that break. It’s going to be a long night.”