“But the theory was that he’d shot himself?”

“Yeah, that’s what the sheriff’s office said.”

“Obvious problem there.”

“The sheriff thought maybe the gun could’ve been grabbed by a hunter who didn’t report what he found. Or maybe one of the guys who actually did find Dell lifted the gun. After all, guns are expensive and almost everyone here uses firearms of some kind.” Edwards shrugged. “Or, if Dell shot himself on the upslope side of the log and fell over it, the gun could have slid down the hill quite a distance, gotten hidden like that.”

“So the wounds—how many were there?”

“Two. One, a graze to the side of his head, was counted as a . . . sort of a first try. Then, through the eye.”

“So the two wounds were counted as suicide wounds, one unsuccessful and one not, and no gun was found. And he was on the downslope side of the log.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The lawyer took off his hat, slapped it against his leg.

This was all wrong. Well, maybe . . . “How was he lying? What position?”

“What, you want me to show you?”

“Yes. Did you see him?”

“Yes, ma’am, I sure did. I came out to identify him. Didn’t want his mom to see him like that. Sybil and I have been friends for years.”

“Then just humor me by assuming the position Dell was in, okay?”

Edwards looked as if he wished he were elsewhere. He knelt on the ground, reluctance in every line of his body. He was facing the fallen tree. Putting out a hand to steady himself, he sank down to the ground. His legs were bent at the knees and he was on his right side.

Tolliver moved behind me. “This ain’t right,” he whispered in my ear.

I nodded agreement. “Okay, thanks,” I said out loud. Paul Edwards scrambled to his feet.

“I don’t see why you needed to see where Dell was, anyway,” he said, trying his best not to sound accusatory. “We’re looking for Teenie.”

“What’s her last name?” Not that it mattered for search purposes, but I’d forgotten; and it showed respect, to know the name.

“Teenie Hopkins. Monteen Hopkins.”

I was still upslope of the fallen tree, and I began making my way to the right. It felt appropriate, and it was as good a way to begin as any.

“You might as well go back up to your SUV,” I heard Tolliver telling our reluctant escort.

“You might need help,” Edwards said.

“We do, I’ll come get you.”

I didn’t worry about us getting lost. Tolliver’s job was to prevent that, and he’d never failed me; except for once, in the desert, and I’d teased him about that for so long that he’d about gone crazy. Of course, since we’d nearly died, it was a lesson worth reinforcing.