“I been sober now for thirty-two months,” Helen Hopkins said, gesturing to us to take the two armchairs squeezed together opposite the sofa, where she perched on the edge of a cushion.

“Congratulations, I’m glad to hear it,” I said.

“If you’ve been in this town for more than ten minutes, someone will have told you something bad about me. I drank and fornicated for many years. But I’m sober now, by the grace of God and some damn hard work.”

Tolliver nodded, to show we were registering her words.

“Both my girls are dead,” Helen Hopkins continued. Her voice was absolutely steady and harsh, but the muscles in her jaw were taut with agony. “I ain’t had a husband in years. No one here to help me but me, myself, and I. I want to know who brought you here, and what you are, and what you done out in the woods to find my girl. I didn’t know anything about this till yesterday, when Hollis called me.”

You couldn’t get more straightforward than that. Tolliver and I looked at each other, asking a silent question. This woman was a lot like our mother—well, my mother, Tolliver’s stepmother—except my mother had gone to law school, and she’d never gotten sober. Tolliver gave a shrug that couldn’t have been seen by anyone but me, and I returned an infinitesimal nod.

“I find bodies, Mrs. Hopkins. I got hit by lightning when I was a girl, and that’s what happened to me afterward. I found out I just knew when I came close to a dead person. And I knew what had killed that person—though not who, if the person was murdered.” I wanted to be real clear about that. “What I know is how the person died.”

“Sybil Teague hired you?”

“Yes.”

“How’d she know about you?”

“I believe through Terry Vale.”

“Are you always right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You think the Lord likes what you’re doing?”

“I wonder about it all the time,” I said.

“So, Sybil asked you to come here and find Monteen. She say why?”

“The sheriff told me that everyone was thinking her son had killed Teenie, and she wanted to find Teenie’s body to disprove that.”

“And you found Teenie.”

“Yes, that’s what Sheriff Branscom told me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I knew she was dead,” Helen said, eyes dry. “I been knowing since she vanished, that Teenie had passed over.”

“How?” If she could be blunt, I could, too.

“She would’ve come home, otherwise.”

According to Hollis, Teenie had been as out of control as her mother at one time. I doubted Helen Hopkins was speaking realistically. Her next words echoed my doubts so closely that I wondered if the woman was psychic.