As Lucy watched him pushing buttons and talking into the mike, smiling and nodding at the scouts, bits of information fell into place. It was rumored that Culpepper had had an affair with Marcia Miller. Even if that wasn’t true, Miller’s role in the planning commission might have been enough of a motive. Just yesterday at the coffee shop she’d seen him nearly sock Jonathan Franke over the commission’s proposal. He had certainly looked as if he’d wanted to kill Franke.

“That’s enough, boys,” said Culpepper, looking up at Lucy. He looked away furtively, and she realized he knew that something was wrong.

“Boys!” she called. “It’s getting late. It’s time to go back.” They had run off down the trail without her. She half turned toward Culpepper, stretching her lips across her dry teeth in something she hoped looked like a smile.

“Thanks so much for bringing the cocoa,” she said. “I’d better catch up with the boys.”

“Not so fast,” said Culpepper, causing her to stop in her tracks. She stood nervously while he hauled himself out of the cruiser, calculating her chances. She was perhaps twenty feet from the cruiser. If she ran immediately, she would have a good head start. She was used to running, and a glance at Culpepper’s belly where the buttons on his uniform strained to hold the gaping fabric together indicated that he wasn’t. If she ran hell for leather down the path this instant, she could catch up to the boys and be safe. But she felt frozen in place; her feet felt like lead and her breath was coming too fast. She watched as he came closer and closer, fascinated by the red veins on his nose, the hairs that sprouted between his eyebrows, and his little blue eyes. Piggy eyes. Had Sam Miller felt like this before he died?

“Lucy, breathe into this bag.” Culpepper shoved the doughnut bag against her face and picked up her hands, cupping them so she could hold it herself. “You’re hyperventilating. Here, sit in the cruiser for a minute until you feel better. Just take it easy. You’ll be fine,” he reassured her.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” Lucy admitted as he climbed in beside her. “For a minute there I thought you killed Sam Miller.”

Culpepper looked up sharply, and again panic swept over Lucy. Why couldn’t she keep her suspicions to herself, at least until she was safe at home?

“I know you didn’t,” Lucy reassured him. “But everyone’s saying you had an affair with Marcia Miller.”

“What?” Culpepper was incredulous. “Me and Marcia Miller? That stuck-up bitch?”

Lucy shrugged. “You know the kinds of things people say. I thought it was possible.”