Free Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour by Aaron Stander

crawled next to her son. “You can help him stay warm by holding him close,” he said. Kim lay next to Arnie and pulled him to her body.
    Ray found dry kindling and matches in the plastic garbage bag. He started a fire in the stove and backed out of the hut.
    “You want a space blanket?” Sue asked after he emerged from the hut.
    “Sure,” he responded. Sue dug through her backpack and handed Ray a small packet. He unwrapped the tightly folded package and pulled the thin sheet of silvery plastic around his shoulders. They stood on the shore and waited for the chopper. At the sound of its approach—the thumping of its blades in the heavy air—Sue fired a flare. The projectile arched out over the lake and fell toward the water. Sue glanced back toward the hut to ensure they were out of earshot.
    “Is Arnie going to make it?” she shouted over the roar of the approaching chopper.
    “It’s a crap shoot,” said Ray.
    The pilot turned the bright orange helicopter in their direction. They could see him wave through the Plexiglas bubble. As the pilot carefully oriented his ship, Ray and Sue moved out into the clearing near the shore and waited for the rescue basket to descend.

12
As Ray entered the conference room he could see that Deputy Sue Lawrence had covered one side of the table with neat piles of documents, photos, and diagrams. She also had a small array of items—a sandal, a blue beach towel, the photo of Ashleigh and her mother—in evidence bags. Ray placed a stainless steel coffee mug on the table and sat across from her.
    “Any word on Vedder?” Sue asked as she sorted some photos.
    “I just called. They’re trying to stabilize him, doing blood warming.” Ray sipped his coffee. “It doesn’t sound good.”
    “Kim?”
    “She’s there. If he doesn’t make it, well.” Ray dropped his head toward the table, rubbed his forehead with his forefingers and thumb; a wave of fatigue swept across his body. Looking up, he continued, “That poor woman, her life has been one tragedy after another. I wonder how she’ll get through this one.”
    Sue let his comment hang for a long time, finally saying, “Here is the inventory of clothing for Ashleigh and David. You’ll notice that we only found one sandal, a women’s size eight Chaco for the left foot.”
    Ray looked at the list of clothing for each victim, followed by the other items collected at the scene.
    “Did you process the shoe we recovered in Arnie’s hut?”
    “Yes, it appears to be the mate—right foot, same size and model of Chaco with a similar amount of wear. I can take this further if need be,” said Sue.
    “So, assuming that the sandal is a match, we have evidence that Arnie was probably at the crime scene. Warrington told me Ashleigh was someone who had been kind to Arnie and that he was often seen hanging around near her cottage,” Ray paused. “And Kim Vedder talked about Arnie’s fascination with the dunes and beach in that area. He would spend nights there, looking at the stars, sleeping, and not coming home until after dawn.”
    “Any chance Arnie is the killer?” Sue’s tone suggested her own doubt.
    “Check Arnie’s clothes for traces of blood; I think the perp would have been covered with blood.” Ray stopped briefly and looked directly at Sue, “Can you imagine him overcoming two physically fit adults?”
    “He would have had the element of surprise,” she countered.
    “True,” answered Ray. “But, think about him pulling Dowd’s head into that position or overpowering Ashleigh. He has the strength of a child, a fairly fragile child at that.”
    “Okay,” agreed Sue, “not likely. But maybe he saw something, like the killer.”
    “And I think that’s very possible. Here is a scenario. Arnie is up at his perch high on the dunes. He sees Ashleigh and David Dowd coming down the beach. Her long hair is pretty distinctive, and he might have even been using his telescope. According to Nora it was close to dusk