“Do you have final numbers on the event?” All Taggart had at this point were estimates.
“We sold all the tickets, but we had twice, maybe three times the estimates.”
“You estimated five hundred people. There were at least two thousand at the festival.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize.” He sounded pleased. “I knew we’d done well, but not that well. The bands loved it, and the music producers in the crowd loved the vibe. Great feedback from the trade magazines and reviews in the local papers.”
Taggart had read the reviews and newspaper articles. They’d focused on the bands, the music, and the crowd’s energy. The rain had been mentioned but not the sucking mud, dwindling food, and troubles in the woods. The entire event had been on the edge of chaos, but the sun had risen, the rains had eased, and people had cleared out. Colton believed he’d dodged a bullet.
Taggart had a reputation for being single-minded. When an idea settled in his head, he couldn’t let it go. That trait had helped him escape Dawson when he needed to, and later it assisted in solving hundreds of military cases. But it was the same quality that had gotten him drummed out of the marines.
Taggart located Cassidy Rogers. She worked as a waitress in a small café an hour west of Dawson. He’d read her report, and nothing had struck him as exaggerated. According to the responding officer, she’d been shaken but calm and clear.
Taggart walked up to the register. “I’m looking for Cassidy.”
The young girl nodded toward a midsize woman with blond hair.
“Thanks.”
He approached the woman, careful not to invade her personal space. “Cassidy Rogers?”
She turned, her smile fading when she saw his uniform. “Yes?”
He removed his hat. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“About?”
“Rafe Colton.”
Her spine stiffened. “What about him?”
“Trying to get some background information on him.”
“Why?”
“Is there somewhere we could talk?”
She nodded to the cashier and indicated she was taking a break. He followed her out back to an alley.
“What has Rafe done now?”
“Nothing that I know of. But I want to know more about him.”
“He must have done something.” She folded her arms. “He’s in the center of another shitstorm.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You must have an idea of my history with him, or you wouldn’t be here.” She inhaled. “I read a small article in the paper yesterday. A girl is missing after the Mountain Music Festival.”
“It’s three girls now.”
She rolled her head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What’s your history with Colton?”
“You read the reports.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
