“Why are we talking to this asshole?” Tolliver asked. “He’s made it clear he wants us out of here. Do we really need to find out about Helen Hopkins’ relationship to her ex-husband? Why don’t we just lie low until the sheriff lets us go? How long can he actually keep us here? Not long. One phone call to a lawyer, and we’re out of here.”

I looked at Tolliver, the polish brush suspended over my little fingernail. “We don’t want to be remembered here as people who were released because they couldn’t find anything to pin on us, do we? You know how we operate. People will be calling Branscom to find out what kind of job we did. They’ll ask him how cooperative we were. We need to look as though we’re taking him seriously, that we’re trying to get to the bottom of these deaths, too. That we care.”

“Do we care?” He tossed his pencil on top of the crossword puzzle book. “I think you do.”

I hesitated, taken aback by what sounded very much like an accusation. “It bothers you?”

“That depends on what you care about.”

“I kind of liked Helen Hopkins,” I said at last, very carefully. “So, yeah, I’m upset that someone cracked her skull. I care that two young people were shot, that they died out in the woods, that people think the boy killed her and then himself. That’s not what happened.”

“Do you feel like they’re asking you to investigate?”

“They?”

“The dead people.”

I felt a big light bursting behind my eyeballs. “No,” I said. “Not at all. Nobody knows better than I do that dead is dead. They’re not wanting anything. Well, maybe Helen Hopkins was, but now she’s released.”

“You don’t feel an obligation?”

I polished my little fingernail. “Nope. We did what we were paid for. I don’t like thinking about someone getting away with murder, but I’m not a cop, either.” I wished immediately that I hadn’t added the last phrase.

Tolliver got to his feet, suddenly in a hurry. “I’m going to go wash the car. I’m pretty sure there’s an Easy Klean right off Main Street. But I’ll stop by the office to ask the McCluskey guy for the location. It’ll give me an excuse to talk to him. I’ll be gone about an hour, more or less.”

“Sure, that sounds good. You don’t want me to talk to McCluskey?”

“No. He thinks you’re the great Satan, remember? I’m just Satan’s assistant.”

I smiled at him. “Okay, thanks. You want me to tell Hollis you’re coming with us, tonight?”

“No, Harper. You go enjoy being a girl for a while.”

He didn’t sound like he meant it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”