“It’s merely a means of illustrating a concept, Detective. And I’ll have you know I am nondiscriminative. I like women of all shapes and descriptions.”

“Oh, you do, huh,” she replied in a cool tone.

“Yes, I do,” I answered. “But mostly, I like tall women. Tall women with auburn hair and freckles on their noses, and with a pistol on their belt. I think, right now, that’s my favorite type of woman.”

Patricia was silent a few seconds, and I wondered if I’d said too much. But she reached over and squeezed my hand again.

“Thanks,” she breathed. “That was nice.”

It was now my turn to return the squeeze of her hand. Then my phone rang. Glancing down and recognizing the number, I lifted the phone to my ear while pulling off the street and into a nearby parking lot.

“Sandy,” I said as I switched off the car engine. “I’m glad you called. When can we get together and talk?”

“Can you meet me tomorrow?” she began without preamble.

“You just tell me when and where, Sandy. I’ll be there.”

“Meet me at the bus station in Savannah at two thirty in the afternoon,” she said in a rushed voice.

“I’ll be there, Sandy.”

“Good. Just don’t be late, Mr. Tanner. It has to be at two thirty.”

“I’ll be there. Don’t you worry.”

She clicked off without another word.

“What was that all about?” Patricia asked. “You look puzzled.”

“It was a friend of Tonya Causey’s—Sandy Willis, the girl I had stopped to see when I had the encounter with that head case who beat up my truck. She agreed to meet me, but she sounded strange—worried, maybe. Or perhaps scared, I don’t know.” I shook my head in thought. “Everybody I’ve met since I’ve touched this thing is—well—different, I guess, if I were to put it generously.”

“Want me to come with you and lend a hand?” Patricia asked.

I shook my head again. “No. That might spook her. It’s taken several days for her to surface, and I don’t want to lose her again.”

Patricia nodded her head. “Just let me know if you need any backup.”

“I’ll be the first to yell for help,” I said as I cranked up and pulled into traffic again.

“Somehow or other, I kinda doubt that,” she replied.

“Yeah, Detective, I know. But I had to say it. For politeness’ sake, if no other reason.”

That garnered me another slug on the shoulder. Traffic thinned as we drove north on Highway 21. The sunlight was gone by the time we passed through the town of Rincon. And when we turned off the highway and onto the pine-bordered dirt roads that ran through the swamps and woods, it felt as though we were driving down a darkened tunnel. Then, at the next crossroads, we were at the church.