But Snyder was not a young man in his forties anymore. He was a body now. A corpse. He was remains. Whatever hopes and dreams he’d ever harboured were gone, evaporated into the ether the moment that figure had laid his hands on him. Virgil felt some sympathy for the guy, but it was the shallow type of sympathy that was easily forgotten and quickly put away.

Movement caught his attention. The figure was walking towards the back door.

Virgil hurried to his own kitchen, banging his leg off a chair in the dark. Cursing all the way to the window over the sink, he peered into Snyder’s overgrown backyard as the figure slipped out into the night. He seemed smaller now, under the moonlight. He had dark hair. That was odd. In the kitchen, Virgil could have sworn he’d been bald. He wasn’t nearly so pale, either, and he wore slacks and a vest over a short-sleeved shirt. The killer glanced his way and two thoughts spiked in Virgil’s head.

The first was, He’s seen me, he’s seen me, he knows I’m here, a thought that faded when the killer’s gaze moved on without stopping, taking in a full sweep of his surroundings.

The second thought was, I know that guy. I know that guy, but it’s impossible. It can’t be him. The guy I’m thinking of is eighty years old and living in Arkansas.

He watched the killer jump the back fence and disappear, then stayed where he was for twenty minutes before he allowed himself to relax. Slowly, his heart stopped beating a tango. The thought occurred to him that it might be a good idea to call the cops. He took his phone from his pocket. The screen lit up, way too bright in this dark house, and he did his best to remember how to work it.

Headlights swept past the window. Virgil moved quickly back to peer out, just in time to see a police cruiser stop in Snyder’s driveway. Relief washed over him. The lights weren’t flashing, but he didn’t mind that, not when he saw Chief Novak step out. Novak was a good cop – strict as hell, but smart and fair. He was with another officer, a big guy – Virgil thought his name might have been Woodbury – and as they walked up to Snyder’s front door he debated whether or not to tell them what he’d seen.

The front door must have been unlocked because the two cops walked right in. Virgil saw them cross the living room, heading into the kitchen, until they were standing where he had last seen Snyder. They looked down and talked to each other. They didn’t seem surprised. They didn’t even seem perturbed. They both bent down and when they straightened up they were carrying Snyder’s body between them.