I can’t be sure, but for an instant I think I see a smile in those eyes. But I can’t tell if it’s the smile of a man remembering an old friend, or a man who knows he got away with murder. “Do I got a choice?” he asks.

“I just want to ask you some questions about his disappearance. You’re under no obligation to talk to me, but if you don’t, I’ll be back with a warrant.”

He glances quickly behind him, an indication that he doesn’t want us to see whatever lies on the other side of the door. “I’ll come out there.”

Glock and I move back simultaneously. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware of Glock keeping his hands loose and ready, maintaining a safe distance in case Underwood does something stupid.

The door swings open and he steps onto the porch. Even from two feet away I smell alcohol on his breath. He’s not falling-down drunk, but he’s not sober, either.

“I read about them bones found out to that old barn,” he says slowly. “They belong to Leroy?”

The question shouldn’t surprise me; news travels fast in a small town, especially if there’s a dead body involved. But it’s been my experience that when people have something to hide, the last thing they do is raise the subject I’m about to question them about. But then Underwood is smart enough to know how to play the game.

“We’re not sure yet,” I tell him.

“I reckon you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think it was him.” He shakes his head. “I’d always hoped he’d made it out of this shithole. Come back richer than God, and maybe share a little with his old buddy.” He wobbles a little as he moves from the doorway, sets his hand against the siding to steady himself. “What do you want with me?”

“When’s the last time you saw him?” I ask.

“Damn. Long time ago.” He scratches his head, loosening a shower of dandruff onto the shoulders of his T-shirt. “A couple of days before he disappeared. I was working at Quality Implement at the time. We used to hang out on the weekends. Cruise around in his souped-up Camaro and drink Little Kings.” His chuckle ends in a phlegmy cough. “He could put it away, that’s for sure.”

“Did the two of you ever argue?” I ask. “Have any disagreements about anything.”

“Nope and nope. Leroy was easygoing. He was fun to hang out with, and we got on just fine.”

“Did he have any enemies that you know of?”

Underwood shakes his head. “No way. Leroy was as laid back as they come. Funny as hell, too. Everyone liked him.”

“Was he ever in to drugs? Any illegal activity?”