“Being related doesn’t mean you’re the killer,” Eli reminded the other man. “It doesn’t mean you’re a liar, either. Try not to make a big thing out of this, Russ. My main objective here isn’t to charge you with murder—I’m trying to find out who the girl is, that’s all. That might be the whole puzzle, right there. If we know who she is, we can find out who she hung out with, and at that point, I think we’re going to know who killed her.”

“What if it was a stranger?” Russ asked, almost plaintively. “What if she was Bethanne’s kid, and she was trying to get here for some reason? What if she was in trouble and she was hoping to find some kinfolks here? Somebody who would help her, take her in?”

“All that’s possible, of course,” Eli said, feeling sorry for Russ and doing his damnedest not to let it show. “Statistically, though, most victims are murdered by someone they know. Random crimes happen, obviously, but in general, killing another human being requires some strong emotions, usually a combination of them. Revenge. Jealousy. Rejection. That kind of thing.”

“Right,” Russ said wearily, hoisting himself up from his chair. “Guess I’d better get spiffed up for Shallie’s New Year’s get-together,” he said. “You think she’d understand if I begged off?”

“Yeah,” Eli said quietly, “I think she’d understand. But you ought to go, Russ. Get out of here for a while. Give yourself a breather from everything that’s going on.”

“You sound just like Shallie. Cord, too. As far as they’re concerned, taking action is the cure for everything.” Russ’s grin was feeble, but it was a grin, and some of the light had come back into his eyes. “Suspected of first-degree murder? Simple—go out and ride a horse for hours. Better yet, teach it a few tricks, like how to walk on water or perform in Swan Lake.”

Eli smiled. “If anybody could get a horse to walk on water,” he said, “it would be Cord Hollister.”

With that, he gave Russ a half salute in farewell and left the Painted Pony Creek Motel for more cheerful destinations.

He drove back through town, not stopping at the office, and headed out to his own place. Without Festus there to sound the alarm, he supposed he was vulnerable to some kind of surprise attack, but he wasn’t too worried.

He was ready for a fight, if one should come his way.

Ready for something.

Without shutting off the SUV, he took out his phone, tapped into the app controlling the security cameras covering both entrances to his house, scrolled through until he saw himself leaving that morning, in great haste, with Festus frolicking at his heels, probably expecting a game of Frisbee to break out at any second.

There was nothing else, which was a relief.