“Maybe she decided she likes trees.”

Bob slipped the gum into his mouth. “Must be ten, twelve acres of them here.”

“Twelve.”

“Looks to me like she bought more than she bargained for. Holy hell, Cliff, we haven’t had anything like this down in this end of the county since crazy Mel Stickler set those barn fires. Now, in the city—”

“Taken to the fast pace, have you?”

Bob knew Cliff well enough to catch both the dig and the humor. “I like some action,” he said easily. “Speaking of which, the lady songwriter smells like heaven.”

“How’s Carol Ann?”

Bob grinned at the mention of his wife. “Just fine. Look, Cliff, if a man doesn’t look, and appreciate, he’d better see a doctor. You’re not going to tell me you haven’t noticed just how nice that lady’s put together.”

“I’ve noticed.” He glanced down at the rock beside him. She’d sat there when he’d kissed her. It wouldn’t take any effort to remember each separate sensation that had run through him in that one moment. “I’m more interested in her land.”

Bob let out a quick laugh. “If you are, you’ve done a lot of changing since high school. Remember when we used to come up here—those blond twins, the cheerleaders whose parents rented the place for a while? That old Chevy of yours lost its muffler right there on that turn.”

“I remember.”

“We had some interesting walks up there in the woods,” Bob reminisced. “They were the prettiest girls in school till their daddy got transferred and they moved away.”

“Who moved in after that?” Cliff wondered, half to himself. “That old couple from Harrisburg—the Faradays. They were here a long time, until the old man died and she went to live with her kids.” Cliff narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. “That was a couple months before Morgan ran off the bridge. Nobody’s lived here since.”

Bob shrugged; then both of them looked toward the gully. “Guess it’s been ten years since anybody lived here.”

“Ten years,” Cliff repeated. “A long time.”

They both looked over at the sound of a car. “The investigators,” Bob said, adjusting his hat again. “They’ll take over now.”

From the corner of the porch, Maggie watched the proceedings. She’d decided that if the police crew needed her, they’d let her know. It appeared to her that they knew their business. She would just be in the way down there, Maggie reasoned as she drank another cup of black coffee.

She watched them shovel, sift and systematically bag what they’d come for. Maggie told herself that once it was off her property, she’d forget it. It would no longer concern her. She wished she could believe it. What was now being transferred into plastic bags had once been a living being. A man or a woman who’d had thoughts and feelings had lain, alone, only yards from what was now her home. No, she didn’t believe she’d be able to forget that.