Sara Read Online Free PDF Page B

breakfast?”
                  Mike looked around the store. In a back corner, four round tables stood decorated in checkered linen with ketchup, salt and pepper shakers, and napkin dispensers set neatly in the middle.
                  “Maybe later,” he smiled at the woman. “Is there a hotel in town?” he asked.
                  The woman chuckled. “Not in Ranch Springs, honey. There’s a bed and breakfast across from the church at the top of the hill, but if a motel is what you’re looking for, you’ll have to go back to Fort Collins.”
                  Mike hesitated for a moment. The vision of Sara sitting in a cheap room, waiting for her car to be repaired, faded away. He pulled her photo from his shirt pocket and showed it to the woman.
    “Have you seen this girl? She would have passed through here yesterday afternoon.”
                  The woman studied the photo and shook her head. “Pretty little thing, but I can’t say that I have seen her.”
    She looked at Mike and sm iled, “Lots of kids come through here this time of year with college starting in Fort Collins and Laramie. Some stop here to use the restrooms or buy a soda, but most just zip on through.”
                  Mike tucked the photo back into his pocket and sighed. “Can you point me toward Duncan Towing?”
                  The smile disappeared from the woman’s face as she straightened her back and studied the deputy for the first time. Her demeanor changed slightly. In a cool tone she pointed west.
    “Take Ranch Spring Road west to the edge of town. You’ll see the impound yard on the right. The office is at the west end of the yard.”
                  Mike raised his hand to tip his hat and found that he had left it in the car. Touching two fingers to his brow, he opted for a casual salute instead.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” he said and walked from the store.
     

     
    The impound yard stood behind an eight foot chain link fence at the edge of a barren red colored ridge left behind by the ancestral Rocky Mountains. Several cars sat on the lot in various states of disrepair. Sara’s Honda Civic was parked inside the fence between an ’82 Datsun pickup and an old Chevy step van once used as an ice cream truck. Mike felt a moment of relief and noted the shredded passenger’s side front tire on the Honda.
                  At the west end of the lot was a twelve-foot wide trailer house perched on cement blocks and surrounded by Skunk Brush and parched Spiderwort. An air conditioner sat tilted in a boarded window and a hand-painted sign hung near the door identifying the trailer as the Office .
                  Inside, Mike found a man in his late fifties with graying hair and dirty overalls, sitting behind a desk, focusing on a computer screen. The man squinted at something on the monitor, cussed to himself, then hunted for the right button to push on the keyboard.
    He looked up at Mike and grimaced. “This damn thing is impossible to understand. Give me a pad and paper any day.”
                  Mike smiled and nodded his head. “I know what you mean.”
                  The man threw his hands up in disgust and stood from his chair, offering his hand to Mike. “I’m Duncan Winter,” he said. “What can I do for you, officer?”
                  Mike shook the man’s hand and introduced himself. “Mike Haller,” he said. “I’m here for my daughter. You have her Honda Civic in the lot outside.”
                  Mr. Winter sat back at his computer and pecked at a few keys.
    “Let’s see, August twenty-fifth, zero-eight-two-five” he spoke quietly to himself. Finally looking up at Mike, he asked, “What’s your daughter’s name?”
                  Mike leaned slightly over the desk to view the screen. “Sara Haller. She had a flat tire