Page 12 of Final Inning

There were four fields, and one of those was for very small, very young players, Miranda suspected. It had that same run-down feel that said the fields probably hadn’t been updated since the Eighties. The wood on the bleachers—yes, wooden bleachers—had warped from moisture. It was worn from probably thousands of butts sliding across that wood, too.

But it had its charms, and it would pull people in. Be…a part of their community. Their identity, in some ways.

That was the way it was at home. Although the fields in her hometown were much more modern. Masterson boasted six new fields put in within the last fifteen years, proper drainage—fields had to be at the exact right slope, after all—and almost comfortable bleacher seating. Her grandmother had been responsible for taking donations for that ball field complex when Miranda had been on the high school team. It was a matter of family pride, too. Talley Little League Complex, named in honor of Miranda’s family—her dad had sung the National Anthem again this year at opening day, too.

Sometimes she really missed home.

“There is a rec league that runs from early March all the way through mid-June. And then a smaller league in October. Four years old through thirteen and under. No one over thirteen seems to want to play around here, though. If they do…they do club ball. Most out of Wichita Falls—it’s an hour south of here. Or even Finley Creek, it’s about an hour and forty or so. It’s not too bad of a drive. Straight down this highway. I have friends there I visit occasionally. When I can, but I’m on call two weekends of the month, too.”

“Small world. I have a cousin in Finley Creek and a few friends—I’m in Finley Creek a few times a year, if I can be. I may have driven through here before, actually. I may head down there when we find answers about Harper. Grab a bite at Mamaw’s Diner.”

“I’ve been there.”

Maybe, if this case didn’t take too long, she’d swing down there and fly home out of Finley Creek instead of OKC. It was about the same driving distance. And she could clear her head.

She would spend a few hours in Finley Creek with her cousin Charlotte, talk out a few things on her mind with Charlotte, who also worked law enforcement, and then fly home on her own dime. Knight could drive the rental back, then catch his own flight home.

Then she wouldn’t have to ride with him. There was that.

All those hours in an SUV, followed by a flight, with him. With nothing to really do…but try to figure each other out…

For now…she focused on the other woman. “What was the town response to what happened to Harper?”

“Fear, mostly. Buckbert has three hundred ninety-four people. Harper was from Helery County, but she’d been living in Texas for a while. People still remembered her, though. She was planning to move to Wichita Falls, with her boyfriend. He’s a doctor there. They didn’t live together yet. They’d only been dating for a little while. He strongly alibied out. His father was having surgery in Oklahoma City, and her boyfriend was on camera in the waiting room at the time of her death. Johnson tried to pin it on him, until we got the video. Some speculation was that she was driving to meet him, but for some reason, just stopped here—maybe wandered into a drug buy or something. And…was killed. People were afraid it was just random—people meeting here, and just in the wrong place and wrong time. Or…Sheriff Johnson thinks Harper was deliberately meeting her supplier here and something went wrong. Either way, people convinced themselves the threat was…random and not local. And is gone.”

“You aren’t convinced.” It wasn’t a question—but then again, Dr. Allan Knight didn’t use questions much. It just wasn’t his way. “Tell us why.”

“I’ve known Harper since she was in kindergarten. I was a few years ahead of her. Buckbert…our school system closed recently, but…it has always been very small. We are just too far from Helery County school system for bussing, but they do that now. Starting this year. Before that, we had multiple grades grouped into each classroom. Harper and I were in classes together every few years. Everyone in Buckbert knows everyone else. People go to church together, school things, community events, soccer leagues, little league, town festival. It’s a regular Hallmark kind of movie around here. In most places, anyway.”

Well, Miranda understood. She’d grown up in the same kind of environment. Masterson County had around five thousand people, after all. But for her, it had been right where she’d belonged. She didn’t think Hagan Lindhour had had the same kind of experience.

Lindhour kept talking. She was much more open now. Miranda wondered who the real Hagan Lindhour actually was. “They moved back when I was around seventeen or so, then moved again about four years later. Her dad works for a company that has factories in the region. He’d move occasionally.”

“So you’ve known her for a long time. What makes you think no drugs?”

“Harper never came across as careless or reckless to me. She wouldn’t stop in a dark parking lot, at night, way out here. Not by herself. Even in Buckbert. She was always so cautious, watchful of her surroundings. Very protective of her younger sisters too. Her parents and friends and sisters all confirm that. Harper was the exact opposite of high risk. People at the trailer park—they can see over here. Can hear. Someone could have heard, but no one did.” Deputy Lindhour pointed toward the two security lights that lit the entrance to the ball park. “These go on every night at five, no question. Unless someone was really stupid, or really angry—I think they took their time with Harper. When if it was drug-related—it would be fast, and hurried and messy, and almost panicked, right?”

Well, Miranda agreed on that, mostly. There had been a lot of rage directed at Harper Wycoff. A deliberateness that both she and Knight had remarked on when they’d first reviewed the file.

Miranda couldn’t say for certain—profiling was at times more an art than a science—but she would almost lay odds on Harper having known her killer.

Most murder victims usually did. But they weren’t making any assumptions just yet. That was something she and Knight usually both agreed on. No assumptions, period.

“We’ll look at all the angles. Start at the very beginning.” Miranda knew better than to give false hope. It never served anyone well. “So how well did you know the victim, other people in town?”

“People know each other here, even if they aren’t friends. Know who is switching teams, whose parents are sleeping together, which umpires can be persuaded…Harper and I went to the same school, and occasionally she’d play up—and sub for area teams an age division ahead of her. I was in that age division. But were we friends, no, not really. Different socioeconomic group mostly. Harper wasn’t exactly outgoing, but…she was popular. Even after she quit softball.”

And she suspected Deputy Lindhour had not been.

“Do you know why or when she quit?” Softball. It could be all-consuming. And in a small town, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for the kids. So those with skills ended up in a pay-to-play situation. A subculture formed around teams and tournaments and rankings and wins and losses.

Miranda had seen it before. Experienced it.

She thought about the things she had seen for a moment.

Miranda would think seriously long and hard before she ever let Bentley do travel baseball—or any other club sport. She was not that insane. Not that she was going to let her own experience color the investigation. She would remember that. And just because Harper was found here at the fields—that didn’t mean it had anything to do with softball. That whole no assumptions thing.

“She quit after her coach died. Most of her team did. I only think half played again that next year.”