After that, the day was out of our hands. After a lot of chatter right out of our range of hearing, Sheriff Rockwell told us that Twyla had said we could use her lake house.

“It’s at Pine Landing Lake,” Sandra Rockwell said. “Parker, Twyla’s son, is coming to lead you there.”

It was a huge relief to have a place to stay, though if no one had supplied a bed, they would simply have had to let us leave town. I was definitely feeling just like a person who’d been released from the hospital that morning; not seriously ill, but tired and a little shaky. The police were digging for the animal corpses, I suppose to make sure there weren’t any human remains mixed in. We were shunted over to the side of the barn where the earth was clearly undisturbed. Tolliver and I, Manfred, and Xylda stood in a silent row. Every now and then someone in uniform would dart a curious glance in our direction.

By the time Parker McGraw got there to take us to his mother’s lake house, the media had discovered the police were at the old barn and were swarming around like flies on a carcass, though they were kept at a distance by the town cops. They were yelling my name from time to time.

After a handshake with Tolliver, Manfred led Xylda out to draw them off us. “Grandmother loves the photographers,” he said. “Just watch.” We did. Xylda, her flaming red hair outlining her creased round face like a scarf, strode off across the empty meadow with Manfred in colorful attendance. She paused by her car, with a reluctance so fake it was almost funny, to give the eager reporters a few well-chosen words. “She’s ready for her close-up, Mr. DeMille,” Manfred said. He leaned over to kiss my cheek and followed her.

While Xylda was enjoying her moment, Tolliver and I did an end run around the mob to reach Parker’s truck. Though I had only a faint recollection of what the truck looked like, Tolliver had admired it when we’d seen it in Twyla’s driveway and he led me right to it.

Twyla’s son was big and burly, dressed in the usual jeans and flannel shirt and down vest. His boots were huge and streaked with dirt. His mom hadn’t had enough money when he was young to take him to the orthodontist.

He shook Tolliver’s hand heartily. He was a little more tentative about shaking mine, as if women in his milieu didn’t often offer to shake.