“Think they’ll run?” Hollander asked.

“The thought crossed my mind,” Decker said. “Honey farmers could live a long time in the wilds, raise bees almost anywhere there’s cloverfield.”

“They seemed attached to their land.”

“I think they could reattach if they had to.”

“Yeah,” Hollander said. The stem of his pipe bobbed in his mouth. “Lots of cheap land outside of California, especially if they have Manfred money. Pick out some small town in Idaho or Montana. Continue where they left off. No one would ever be the wiser.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Pay them a visit?” Hollander said.

“Absolutely,” Decker said.

Hollander took the pipe out of his mouth and tamped down the tobacco. “You look better, Pete. Work agrees with you.”

A mile into the ride, Decker realized how much he missed Marge. Hollander operated the unmarked as if it were an adversary, oversteering each turn, jamming on the brakes whenever he stopped. He grunted as he drove, sang snatches of tunes over the dispatchers’ voices, making up lyrics as he went along. He had the decency not to smoke with the windows rolled up, but the pipe still leaked plumes of cheap tobacco. Decker sat rigid in his seat, his jaw so tightly clamped his teeth started to hurt.

Hollander started belting out off-key torch songs. Decker cranked up the police radio, hoping Mike could take a hint.

“Jesus!” Hollander said. He lowered the volume. “You trying to make us deaf, aiming for disability or something? What’s with you today?”

“I’m on edge.”

“I can see that.”

“Exit here,” Decker said, pointing to the ascending mountain road.

“Kinda steep,” Hollander remarked.

“Want me to drive?”

“Yeah, why don’t you?” Hollander pulled over onto the shoulder of the street. “You know the way.”

Decker gunned the motor and burned rubber as he pulled out. He heard Hollander suck in his breath, but ignored him and kept accelerating the car.

A minute later, he said, “You take Granny Darcy, Mike. I’ll take Pappy.”

“O-kay.”

“Keep the questions light. After all, we don’t have anything to hold them on. Forensics hasn’t released the bodies yet, so something still may come up. But as of right now, we’ve got zip—nothing to tie them to the crime scene. But they don’t know that.”

“O-kay.”

“And don’t smoke your pipe in front of her,” Decker said. “From what I understand, she’s a real fundamentalist. Probably thinks tobacco is an invention of the Devil.” He inhaled a whiff of the odor in the car, then said, “Not far from the truth.”