I watched through the screen as he pulled a seersucker robe over his pajamas and stubbed out his cigarette. Then, he joined us outside.

“Why do you think Buffy’s been arrested?”

Bill rubbed the back of his neck, adjusted the robe’s tie at his waist, and cracked. "She’s not here. And she lied.”

I lifted my brows. “About what?”

“She wasn’t here in the cabin yesterday morning when Graham was killed. I came back here after I got coffee, and she was gone.”

“You think Buffy was involved in Graham’s death?”

“Why else would she lie?”

“Did you ask her where she was?”

“She said she followed me.” His cheeks flushed. “She thought I might try my luck with the caterer.”

“Did you?”

“I cast a lure, but the fish wasn’t biting.” He sounded vaguely surprised.

Imagine that, a successful, smart, young woman had passed on a middle-aged, married man. “Buffy didn’t follow you back to the cabin?”

“If she did, I never saw her.”

Had she seen the killer? I tried to remember every word of every conversation I’d had with Buffy yesterday. Had she dropped a hint?

“Did your husband arrest her?” Bill patted the pocket of his robe as if looking for a pack of cigarettes, then swore softy.

I didn’t want to do this. Not at all. “No, Buffy hasn’t been arrested.”

“Then, where is she?” He sounded annoyed.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Buffy was murdered.”

He stared at me. “That’s not funny, Ellison.”

It really wasn’t.

“She was stabbed.”

He stared for another few seconds, then shook his head and sank onto one of the two chairs on the front porch. “That can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry."

Bill looked up and searched my face. When he failed to find a shred of hope, his shoulders sagged, and his fingers laced together to make one fist that he pressed against his sternum. “You’re sure?”

I wished I wasn’t. “I’m sorry.” The words weren’t nearly enough.

Tears swam in his eyes. “How? Where?”

“Anarchy and I found her in the woods.”

“The woods? Buffy? Where is she now? I want to see her.”

Next to me, Deputy Harden cleared his throat. “Her body's being transported to the county medical examiner’s office.”

“To the morgue.” Bill’s voice broke on the word morgue.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Bill stared sightlessly at the path running by the cabin and rocked in his upright chair. His face was a study in devastation.

I couldn’t clear the man in Graham’s death, but I'd bet a million dollars Bill was innocent of his wife’s murder.

Long, uncomfortable minutes passed. Bill rocked. Deputy Harden tugged at the collar of his uniform. Bear pressed against my left leg. And I wondered who else Buffy saw when she’d followed her husband.