“It’s enough.” The thought of managing by myself made me shiver.

“So, how much do you charge for your services?” he asked, his eyes on the road ahead of him.

I hoped there wasn’t an implication there. I kept silent.

It took a while to make Hollis uncomfortable, longer than it took for most people.

“I want to hire you,” he said, by way of explanation.

I hadn’t expected that. “I charge five thousand dollars,” I told him. “Payable on a positive identification of the body.”

“What if the location of the body is known? You can tell the cause of death, too, right?”

“Yes. Of course I charge less if I don’t have to find the body.” Sometimes the family wants an independent suggestion about the cause of death.

“You ever been wrong?”

“Not that I know of.” I looked out the window at the passing town. “When I can locate the body, that is. I don’t always find it. Sometimes, there’s just not enough information available to tell me where to search. Like the Morgenstern girl.” I was referring to a case that had made headlines the year before. Tabitha Morgenstern had been grabbed off a suburban road in Nashville, and she’d never been seen since that day. “Just knowing the point where someone vanished isn’t enough. She might have been dumped anywhere, in Tennessee or Mississippi or Kentucky. Not enough information. I had to tell her parents I couldn’t do it.”

Though the cemetery wasn’t yet visible, I knew we were approaching one. I could tell by the buzzing along my skin. “How old is the cemetery?” I asked. “It’s the newest one, I guess?”

He pulled over to the side of the road so abruptly I almost lost my grip on my milk shake. He glared at me, his face flushed. I’d spooked him.

“How the hell—did you and your brother drive by here earlier?”

“Nope.” We were pretty far off any streets that tourists or casual visitors would take, a bit out in the countryside and away from any tourist amenities. “Just what I do.”

“It’s the new cemetery,” Hollis said, his voice jerky. “The old one’s . . .”

I turned my head from side to side, estimating. “Southwest of here. About four miles.”

“Jesus, woman, you’re creepy.”

I shrugged. It didn’t seem creepy to me.

He said, “I can give you three thousand. Will you do something for me?”

“Yes, I’ll do it. Since we haven’t run a credit check on you, I need the money in advance.”

“You’re businesslike.” His tone was not admiring.

“No, I’m not. That’s why Tolliver usually does this part.” I finished my milk shake, making a loud slurping noise.