Virgil walked across the street to Marvel Jackson’s house and found it unoccupied. So was the house to its left, but a woman named Casey Young lived in the house to the right. She hadn’t seen anyone around Osborne’s house. “Why are the deputies there? Did something happen to Barry?”

Virgil said, “Yes. Somebody shot and killed him. If you could talk to your neighbors, ask them if anyone saw any activity around Osborne’s house.”

“You don’t think . . . Maybe I should go someplace else for a while. If that killer thought I might have seen him . . .”

—

Jenkins was standing in the side yard, talking to two sheriff’s deputies, when Virgil got back to Osborne’s. He met Virgil in the front yard, and said, “The lawn mower guy . . .”

“Davy something or other . . .”

“Apel. He’s kinda hinky. He says he didn’t see anybody over there at the house, but I had the feeling that he knew something that he wasn’t telling me. Also, he shoots a bow, but he says not very well. Doesn’t own a gun, he says. I asked if you’d fingerprinted him yet, and he said not yet, but he was happy to do it, so . . . there’s that. I believe it’d be worthwhile asking around about him.”

Virgil nodded. “We can do that. Maybe Holland or Clay Ford would know something. I couldn’t find anyone who saw any activity around Osborne’s house . . . I can’t think . . . Did the killer walk in? There’s enough shrubbery around that he could almost make it in from the side street, but if anyone had seen him, he’d have been toast. He’s gotta be local; they would have recognized him, would have known that he didn’t exactly belong in those yards.”

“Apel says the two houses on the end are occupied by Mexicans who work at the packing plant. There’s nobody home during the day. If he’s local, he might’ve known that. He could have come in from that side, but that would have taken some serious balls.”

“We know he’s got balls . . .” Virgil pushed a hand up his forehead. “I gotta tell you, I’m kinda feeling disoriented here. How could this happen? Did we set it off when we came to talk to Osborne? I wonder . . . We gotta check his cell phone, see who he talked to, see if he talked to anyone after we left. We need to know where he was this morning, too. Did he tell somebody something that triggered the killer? We gotta get on this . . .”

“Whoa! Whoa! Slow down, man. You’re freakin’ out,” Jenkins said. “This ain’t our fault, it’s the killer’s fault. We’ll have the guy in the next day or two . . . He’s gotta be plugged in tight to what’s going on in town, him always being one step ahead of us.”