I realized that Dwight probably wasn’t going to get to me tonight and that I might as well go on home, but thinking of how the Ameses were strangers in a strange town, I slipped over to them and said, “If there’s anything I can do to help with the legalities—”

Before either adult could speak, their son glared at me with hot, resentful eyes. “We don’t need the help of any damn Knotts. Just leave us the hell alone!”

The boy’s hostility was like a slap across the face, and I could feel my cheeks flushing.

Arnold Ames glared at him. “Shut your mouth, Val! Now! Help the others close up, then get to the trailer and stay there. You hear me?”

The teenager nodded with matching anger, then stomped off toward his game stand.

“I apologize for our son,” said Tally Ames, and her voice broke again as the mention of one son seemed to renew her grief for the one so newly dead. “He’s—We’re—”

“I understand,” I told her, even though I didn’t. Unless it was because I was the one who found his brother’s body, so let’s kill the messenger?

“We do appreciate your offer of help, though,” said her husband. He put his arm around Tally’s shoulders to guide her toward the tent with picnic tables. “Come on and sit down, Tal. Kay’s getting you something to drink.”

As I started to walk away, Dwight called to me. He was holding out that stupid stuffed Dalmatian. “Sylvia forgot her dog. Could you stick this in my truck for me on your way out?”

“You sure you don’t want to forget it yourself?” I was only half joking.

“And find myself in the doghouse tomorrow? Not hardly. Course, if you don’t want to be bothered—”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “Hand it over.”

With the thing hoisted on my shoulder, I walked on down to the main gate. The patrol cars and emergency vehicles had effectively closed the carnival for this night. Most of the gaming concessions were shuttered tight and looked shabby and forlorn with but a scattering of unflattering security lights to illuminate their gaudy fronts. Deputy Mayleen Richards had rigged herself a flat surface for her laptop and was typing in names and addresses so efficiently that only a few people were still in line when I got there, and the line moved briskly.

She smiled at the dog on my shoulder. “Oh, hey, Judge. I see you got lucky.”

“Not me, your boss.”

As she entered my name and numbers on the glowing screen, I made my voice casual. “Many of my relatives here tonight?”

Her sturdy fingers manipulated the keyboard and the list she’d compiled obligingly sorted itself in alphabetical order. Haywood and Herman and their wives had been there along with Robert and Doris and some of their grandchildren. Several of my nieces’ and nephews’ names were starred like mine to indicate they’d played the Dozer. As I’d feared, Stevie’s name wasn’t there at all, which made it a safe bet that Eric Holt’s wasn’t either. I made a mental note to look into it, but not tonight.