the metal. Like a runner waiting for the gun, she was poised ready to spring into action if anyone shouted they had found something. Where are you, Meghan?
A loud throat clearing snapped her back to attention, and she turned to find the head honcho and Bob standing next to the truck. He introduced himself as Gresham and wasted no time telling them he was “no relation.” Donna didn’t know if he meant to the author or the TV CSI guy, and frankly, didn’t give a rat’s ass. Bob said he was the best, and she held him to his word, a relief since the man looked more like Colonel Sanders, especially in his white coveralls.
“Did you find something? What did you find? Say something!”
Bob clamped a hand on her shoulder and gave her a stern frown. Gresham held out a red sequined cell phone case.
“That’s Meg’s!” Donna leaped from the tailgate only to have Bob snatch her back up and plop her butt back down—hard.
“Stay put.”
Donna took a moment to glare at him, bad enough he’d made Dan stay with the trailer in town. “Where did you find it?”
“Beneath some moldy hay on the barn floor.” He glanced from Bob to the toe of his paper booties. “Did you happen to notice the broken top rung of the ladder?”
“No…it can’t be. Meg climbed the ladder and lowered the saddles over the side. If the rung had broken, I would know.”
“It’s broken now. You claim you heard a scream—”
“I heard a scream. I took no more than ten seconds to get inside afterward. And I am pretty damned tired of repeating myself. What are you driving at?”
The two men shared a glance before Gresham continued. “We’ve found some inconsistencies in your story.”
“No,” Donna said decisively. “My story has been the same every time. Y’all just need to get the peanut butter out of your ears.”
The man curled one corner of his lip at her insult. “That’s not what I meant Mrs. Andrews. What I meant to say is, you claim your GPS didn’t function and your cell phone had no signal. This phone shows full bars, and all our equipment is working perfectly.”
Donna shrugged. Gresham’s demeanor suggested he held something back. “A storm front moved in. Maybe the weather caused the interruption. I don’t know, that’s your area not mine. What else did you find?”
Bob shot Gresham another look, and she wanted to kick him—so she did. “Listen, you piece of shit, let him tell me what he has or thinks he has, and let’s get this show on the road!”
The judge rubbed his shin and opened his mouth, but the other man beat him to the punch. “We found blood on the main support post. Possibly, the rung broke, and your friend fell and hit her head. Where did she carry her phone?”
Donna growled, “Clipped to her jeans as you well know. You saw the clip on the cover. She wore her jeans too damn tight to get the phone in her pocket. Stop wasting time trying to trip me up! Are you saying she hit her head and wandered off?”
“Not in ten seconds.”
So, he’d reached the punch line at last. They thought she got the timeline wrong. Had she? Donna retraced her steps in her mind. She went from the house to the trailer at a trot to get the saddles under cover. They weighed a ton and were hard to move, so that took maybe two minutes, three tops. She had been lowering the door when Meg screamed, and she broke and ran. Donna leapt from the tailgate and ran, calling over her shoulder, “Time me!”
She skidded to a stop just inside the barn door. “Well?”
The two men slid to a halt behind her as she froze to the spot she had on the day Meg disappeared.
“Eight point four seconds, but I took a couple more to hit the timer. I’m willing to call it ten,” Gresham allowed.
“How kind of you. It seemed darker than now, probably later in the day and because of the storm. I remember a flash of lightning, but I couldn’t see her. I called and called, but she never answered. I didn’t look up.” She did so
A loud throat clearing snapped her back to attention, and she turned to find the head honcho and Bob standing next to the truck. He introduced himself as Gresham and wasted no time telling them he was “no relation.” Donna didn’t know if he meant to the author or the TV CSI guy, and frankly, didn’t give a rat’s ass. Bob said he was the best, and she held him to his word, a relief since the man looked more like Colonel Sanders, especially in his white coveralls.
“Did you find something? What did you find? Say something!”
Bob clamped a hand on her shoulder and gave her a stern frown. Gresham held out a red sequined cell phone case.
“That’s Meg’s!” Donna leaped from the tailgate only to have Bob snatch her back up and plop her butt back down—hard.
“Stay put.”
Donna took a moment to glare at him, bad enough he’d made Dan stay with the trailer in town. “Where did you find it?”
“Beneath some moldy hay on the barn floor.” He glanced from Bob to the toe of his paper booties. “Did you happen to notice the broken top rung of the ladder?”
“No…it can’t be. Meg climbed the ladder and lowered the saddles over the side. If the rung had broken, I would know.”
“It’s broken now. You claim you heard a scream—”
“I heard a scream. I took no more than ten seconds to get inside afterward. And I am pretty damned tired of repeating myself. What are you driving at?”
The two men shared a glance before Gresham continued. “We’ve found some inconsistencies in your story.”
“No,” Donna said decisively. “My story has been the same every time. Y’all just need to get the peanut butter out of your ears.”
The man curled one corner of his lip at her insult. “That’s not what I meant Mrs. Andrews. What I meant to say is, you claim your GPS didn’t function and your cell phone had no signal. This phone shows full bars, and all our equipment is working perfectly.”
Donna shrugged. Gresham’s demeanor suggested he held something back. “A storm front moved in. Maybe the weather caused the interruption. I don’t know, that’s your area not mine. What else did you find?”
Bob shot Gresham another look, and she wanted to kick him—so she did. “Listen, you piece of shit, let him tell me what he has or thinks he has, and let’s get this show on the road!”
The judge rubbed his shin and opened his mouth, but the other man beat him to the punch. “We found blood on the main support post. Possibly, the rung broke, and your friend fell and hit her head. Where did she carry her phone?”
Donna growled, “Clipped to her jeans as you well know. You saw the clip on the cover. She wore her jeans too damn tight to get the phone in her pocket. Stop wasting time trying to trip me up! Are you saying she hit her head and wandered off?”
“Not in ten seconds.”
So, he’d reached the punch line at last. They thought she got the timeline wrong. Had she? Donna retraced her steps in her mind. She went from the house to the trailer at a trot to get the saddles under cover. They weighed a ton and were hard to move, so that took maybe two minutes, three tops. She had been lowering the door when Meg screamed, and she broke and ran. Donna leapt from the tailgate and ran, calling over her shoulder, “Time me!”
She skidded to a stop just inside the barn door. “Well?”
The two men slid to a halt behind her as she froze to the spot she had on the day Meg disappeared.
“Eight point four seconds, but I took a couple more to hit the timer. I’m willing to call it ten,” Gresham allowed.
“How kind of you. It seemed darker than now, probably later in the day and because of the storm. I remember a flash of lightning, but I couldn’t see her. I called and called, but she never answered. I didn’t look up.” She did so
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