Nodding, Rasmussen turns his attention back to me. “Any other disputes or arguments you’ve been involved in? I mean, as chief?” He clears his throat. “Or your personal life? Neighbors? Anything like that?”

It feels strange to be the recipient of such questions. Usually I’m the one asking them. “No.”

“You piss off anyone in the course of your job?” he asks. “Maybe someone doesn’t like the way you handled something? Got pissed off about a ticket?”

“Not recently.” I say the words lightly, but no one laughs. “The only other case I’m working on is the remains that were discovered under that barn,” I tell him.

“Foul play involved?” the sheriff asks.

“It’s possible, but we’re not sure yet. We don’t have a cause or manner of death. But I’ve been asking questions.”

“To whom?”

I list the names and give the spellings. “Vern and Sue Nolt. Rachel Zimmerman. Clarence Underwood. Abigail and Jeramy Kline. The Amish women at the sewing shop in town.” I go on to tell him about the possibility that domestic hogs were involved in the man’s death.

“Holy shit,” he mutters. “Hogs?”

“Figure that one out,” Glock says.

“We have no way of knowing if it was a freak accident, if he fell into the pen and was killed by the animals or if someone pushed him,” I tell them. “But even if it was an accident, from all indications, it looks like someone made an effort to conceal the remains.”

“So it’s not unreasonable to believe someone has something to hide,” Rasmussen says.

Tomasetti looks at me. “As usual, Kate’s been poking the bees’ nest with a short stick.”

I frown at him.

“Clarence Underwood was recently released from prison,” Glock adds. “Former meth head.”

“See if he has an alibi,” I tell him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tomasetti levels his gaze on me. “Might be a good idea for you to take a few days off.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” Rasmussen agrees.

Glock is smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

I sit up straighter, annoyed that they’re ganging up on me. “I can’t put this John Doe thing on hold—”

“Chief Burkholder?”

I look past my counterparts, relieved to see the ER doc approach. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“As long as you’re here to spring me,” I grumble.

“In about two minutes.” He looks at the men. “I need to have a word with the chief, if you’re finished.”

“I think we’ve annoyed her enough.” Grinning, Rasmussen offers his hand, and we shake. “Glad you’re okay, Chief. Let me know if you need anything or if you think of something else that might help us figure out who did this.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Same goes, Chief.” Glock gives me a small salute and heads for the door.