This time my lie isn’t about protecting me, but about putting me at risk. In a good way, I think.

“Totally free. Would love to go.”

Dan gives me his handsome smile.

“All right then. I’ll text you the details.”

“Good night, Dan,” I say.

“Night, Megan.”

When I turn the key in the ignition, the sound a phone makes when charging gets my attention. It’s a soft buzz. I instinctively reach for it; it’s tucked in between the seat and the console. It’s not my phone. In my haste to meet with Dan I’d completely forgotten about the phone recovered in Chantelle’s backyard. It’s a terrible lapse and I know it immediately. I should have logged it when I got into the office. I fish it out by pulling on the cord. It’s powered up. I stare at the illuminated screen. The wallpaper is of a face, though covered by a multitude of apps.

And yet I know who it is.

It’s a familiar face.

Thirty-Eight

Sheriff is in his duct-tape upholstered chair reading the Leader. Country music plays softly from his radio. An oily fast food bag pokes up through the trash receptacle by his office door. Normally, I’d remark on it, though this time I don’t.

I don’t even say good morning.

“I need you to come with me out to the Wheaton place. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

The urgency in my voice jolts him to his feet.

Just as we head out the door, Nan calls out that the crime lab is on the phone.

“Should I tell them to call back?”

I snap the receiver right from her hand. I might have hurt her, but I really don’t care. She makes every moment annoying. And I’m pretty sure that’s why she does it.

“Hi Detective, it’s Marley again,” says a familiar voice. “Got some info for you. It’s good stuff too.”

I can tell right now he’s of the CSI TV generation; you find them stuck in the mundane environment of a crime lab, thinking it would be all nonstop fun—kicked off by an anthemic, bombastic cut by The Who.

“I’m all ears,” I say.

“Okay. Good. Well here’s where we are: The hammer had on it the blood of three different people: we’re thinking three victims; two female and one male. The hair and also one blood sample is a match for our victim, Mrs. Wheaton. The other two aren’t in the system, but the female victim’s DNA ladders back to both the male and Mrs. Wheaton. The only other tool found on the property that had any blood was a shovel. Again Mrs. Wheaton.”

I take it in.

“Crazy, right?”

“I guess you could call it that. Same with the spatter?”

“Right. All three victims’ blood is present.”

“Thanks, Marley. Send the report.”