“Here, some of these men have families—duties—they can’t just walk away.”

“Tell them they have this afternoon to find someone to help them with their work. But I want them here an hour before nightfall.”

“What are you planning on doing with them?” Walker asked. “They’ll want to know that as well.”

“They don’t need to know. But I intend to lock them up here and hold them without visitors.”

“Incarcerate them? But what have they done? That’s a bit harsh—”

“Murder is harsher. I want them under your eye until I return. And I shall hold you responsible if they’re set free for any reason at all.”

“And where will you be?” Walker asked, goaded.

“I’m going to track down some of the men whose identity discs we have. If I can’t find answers here in Eastfield, I can at least make certain no one dies while I’m in another part of the country. I’ll leave written orders. You won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Walker studied him for a moment. “You believe the men whose names are on this list may be the next victims? Sir? One of them is my nephew!”

“All the more reason to keep him safe,” Rutledge replied. “One man has already died on my watch. I won’t see another killed while I’m away. We can’t protect all six of them all of the time, Walker, we don’t have the manpower, and I don’t think Hastings will agree to lending us men. But if this killer keeps to his schedule, there will in fact be another murder before I return. The solution is to put his victims beyond his reach. It will be inconvenient, I grant you. But the risk is not acceptable.”

It was easier said than done. Walker sought out each of the six men, sent them grumbling to the police station, and even after Rutledge had explained why he was taking this step, there was strong opposition to his plan.

“I can’t be away for three nights,” Hector Marshall exclaimed. “I’ve got cows to milk, vegetables to hoe, chickens to feed.”

Another man added that his wife was pregnant and likely to deliver at any time.

Two more told Rutledge they could look after themselves and didn’t need his help doing it.

He answered only, “I’m sure Theo Hartle would have said the same. He was a bigger man than any of you. And still he was murdered.”

Walker’s nephew, Billy Tuttle, said, “With all due respect, sir, what if it’s one of us? The killer, I mean. And we’re shut in together?” He looked at the others defiantly. “I’m not saying it is, not by any means, but it bears thinking about.”

The last two to come in asked why they should be punished when they’d done nothing wrong, refusing outright to stay in a cell.

Rutledge listened patiently to their protests and then said, “Very well. Let’s make it simple. We needn’t draw straws. Tell me, which of you will volunteer to become the fifth victim? Step forward. I’ll release you as a stalking horse, to see if you’re on the killer’s list. Or not. And if the murderer should be one of you, he will most certainly have to wait until he’s free before killing again. He’s not a fool, whatever else he may be. He won’t kill here.”