“She started showing up in my lawn, I started feeding her apples and carrots, and we became friends.” He held his hand out in a stop-gesture. She walked right up to him, put her nose against his palm, and licked him. He moved his palm along her skin and rubbed behind her ears. When he stopped, she nudged him for more attention. “I fill the shed with hay and leave the door open. She’s a real polite lady too, even potty-trained herself. Only craps over by the trees.” With his other hand, he motioned to a row of old trees lining the left side of his yard. “So we get along real well, don’t we, girlie? Wanna pet her?”

“Oh, I’m OK. No, thanks.” In this heat, her meaty smell was fetid. I wanted nothing to do with it. And, I worried she would sense my fear and bite me.

“I’m not sure I can help you with your mom though,” he said. “What does she say about it?”

“I can’t ask her. She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear. I didn’t know.”

“How would you? She was living in Southern Illinois. I wasn’t close with her.”

“Well, that was a long time ago. I remember a little. Some boys found the dead girl under a storm drain.” I walked to the end of his porch so I could get a better view of his face as he talked. “Your mom was barely a suspect at first, but several weeks later, she ended up confessing to her head doctor. The county attorney let it go because he was friends with your dad and your folks had a litter of kids. Sorry. No offense.”

“None taken. What about signs of rape?”

He patted the cow on the head and said, “Alright, that’s enough, old girl.” He dropped his hands, and the cow turned away. “We weren’t sure if it was rape. The coroner tried his best to collect evidence, but since she was in the water, I’m not sure if he woulda found much. What he collected came back contaminated. The DNA tests weren’t great back then. This was the nineties.”

“It was probably a rape though, right? I mean, weren’t her fingers cut off to get rid of evidence of a struggle?”

He shrugged. “Seems like it, but why else would your mom confess?”

Maybe to cover for Rodney.

“What about my brother Rodney? Was he ever considered a suspect?”

“Hm,” he said. “Nothing stands out in my memory about him. I’d have to pull the case out and go over my notes. What does he say about it?”

“Nothing. He died years ago. What about the dead opossums?”

He nodded slowly. “Right. That’s right. When we started investigating Dawn’s murder, your mom’s neighbors said they found their opossums torn up in their yard days before. They suspected your mom.”

My stomach twisted.