Crossing to the door, I twist the knob and shove it open. There’s no one there, just the wind and the storm and the weight of my own tripping suspicion. And all of it is shadowed by the doubt that I’m wrong about the Masts and that when the deputy arrives, I’m going to have some backpedaling to do.

Pulling my Mini Maglite from my pocket, I turn away from the door and start toward the corridor that will take me to the slaughter room. It’s the same route Tomasetti and I took the night we were here. Everything looks different now as the cone of light plays over the dirt floor. It’s as if some unseen threat lurks around every corner.

Using my foot, I shove open the door to the slaughter room, shine my beam inside. Light from an overhead Plexiglas panel reveals an empty space that smells vaguely of bleach and manure. The bench where the carcasses are dressed is clean and dust-free. The boiling drum is empty and dry. Cutting tools gleam from hooks on the wall. Above, the chain used to lower the carcass into the vat is rusty but free of contaminants. Perry Mast runs a clean operation. Only I found a half-burned pack of clove cigarettes in his trash. . . .

The velocity of the rain against the roof increases to a deafening drumroll. It’s so loud, someone could fire a gun and I wouldn’t hear it. I back from the slaughter room and continue down the corridor. I come to a door on my right and open it. It’s a small shop with a workbench against the wall. A big floor sink with a bar of homemade soap next to the faucet and a towel draped over its side is set against the wall. I see a container of bleach on a shelf. Cloth towels have been folded neatly on a shelf below. A cattle prod hangs from a nail that’s been driven into a two-by-four. A knife the size of a machete lies next to a sharpening stone on a workbench.

Glancing at the other side of the room, I see a large piece of equipment covered with a tarp. I cross to it and pull off the tarp. Dust flies, but I barely notice because I’m transfixed by the sight of the dark blue Ford LTD. I almost can’t believe my eyes. What the hell are the Masts doing with a vehicle? A vehicle that matches the description of the car Mandy Reiglesberger described near where Sadie Miller was last seen.