Sheriff Watts chews the tip of his pen as he stares at the transcript of our interview. I sit in the chair on the other side of the table and wait. He’s about to speak, but instead, he gets a pained expression, and uses the pen to scratch his head. He studies my words as though they might magically arrange themselves in some other order that makes sense.

“I … I just want to get this straight.”

“Of course.”

“You said you were …” He consults his notes, again. “You found these remains because you were installing a hot tub … in your basement?”

“Yep.”

“Mr. Price, I’m no expert, but when it comes to hot tubs, most people put them outside.”

“I guess I’m no expert, either.”

No, it’s not my best lie, but whatever.

Once things settled down and I knew Caitlyn was okay, I called the police and they took possession of the remains. They asked me how I knew that the bones were there. I told them I was putting in a hot tub. I’m sure they knew it was a lie but I don’t care. I could tell them what really happened, and the hot tub story would still make more sense.

Sheriff Watts shakes his head. “Well, the remains have been there a long time, and even the person who put them there ain’t around anymore, either. There’s not a whole lot we can do.”

“Okay.”

He waits for a response I’m not going to give.

“Look, Mr. Price, we could open up a formal investigation, but I don’t think it will do any good. Even if we could identify the remains, which I doubt, there’s no reason to make this public. All it would do is pull resources from my office and state officials for a crime that can’t be solved. I think it’s best if you let us take possession of the remains, catalogue them, and we can forget all about this.”

“Nope.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That doesn’t work for me.”

Sheriff Watts rubs his eyes. “Mr. Price, I understand what a shock this must have been for you and your daughter—”

“No, you really can’t.”

“—but I assure you, that if you go to the press, your house will become a tourist attraction.”

“And, like you said, it would be a hassle for you.”

“Well …”

“I won’t tell the press on one condition.”

“You have a condition?”

“Yep,” I say, sitting forward in my chair. “You release the remains to me so that I can give them a proper burial.”

He gives me a hard stare. “Why? Do you know who this is?”

“How could I?”

“Then why would you—?”