Charm was one of the coping techniques I’d learned on the first-grade playground. And because I didn’t feel guilt, I could smile. Hours of practice had forged the perfect grin. “I could say the same.”
“I’ve read all your articles. You’re a terrific writer.”
“Thank you.”
“You do an excellent job of getting into the minds of killers.”
“The victims, too, I hope.”
“Of course. But all writers start with victims. They gloss over what drives the killers. And let’s face it, without the killer, there’s no story.”
I thought about Patty staring into Colton’s eyes as he drove into her while another person watched the scene. “They’re people, too. They have needs, wants, and desires.”
“Exactly.” He threaded his fingers, flicking a thick shock of gray hair off his forehead. “So, after all these years, you’re here. What took you so long?”
“I’m writing about the Mountain Music Festival.”
“Ah, the Festival Four. The Lost Ladies. A great deal has been written about that case. I’ve been interviewed by a few writers over the years.”
“The story comes and goes in popularity. People are fickle. They care about a case one day and not the next. I try not to chase the trends.”
“Most writers tried to link me to the victims. They were very predictable. Finding the smoking gun was their ticket to stardom.”
“What brought you to Dawson? What was it about that tiny town that was so appealing?”
He relaxed back in his seat. “Beautiful setting. The mountains are stunning. And it’s close to Roanoke, Charlottesville, Richmond, and DC. It made sense.”
“You organized other festivals before this one.”
“I did. They didn’t do as well. But I was learning.”
“You don’t know what you don’t know, right?”
“Exactly. A little like writing?”
I chuckled. “Read any of my early stuff, and you’ll see I had a few things to learn.”
We chatted about my career. He was interested in the Susie Malone case. He smiled when he mentioned the random fire in the storage unit that had exposed the pastor’s cache of trophies.
I shrugged, smiled.
He laughed. “You’re a pistol.”
“You had casual relationships with the Festival Four, right?”
He didn’t shut down but, instead, seemed ready to talk. “I didn’t really know these women.” He held up a hand. A handcuff rattled. “I’ll amend that. I did know your mother. I saw her a couple of times at the diner. And at the hamburger stand. She was always hustling. I admire that kind of work ethic. It’s rare. Especially today.”
“That’s not what you told Taggart.”
He looked amused. “Seems fitting I’d tell you more about Patty.”
Tell more or lie more. “You’d have to work hard to make it in the music industry.”
“You do. That business chews up and spits out people all the time.” He tapped his finger to the side of his head. “You also must keep a positive mindset. You let the negative thoughts in, and you’re cooked.”
“Everyone comments about how positive you are. You’re popular here.”
He raised a brow. “Not sure if that’s saying much.”
