“I know you have a good heart,” Sheriff says.

She sniffs as though she’s been crying. “I do. I really do.”

“Do you have your phone on you?” I ask her.

She shakes her head.

“Take mine. I want you to take my car and drive where you can get service, a couple miles. Patrol is in the area. Tell them we need some backup here.”

Sheriff nods.

He knows what I know.

Forty

I reach for my gun, but Sheriff motions for me to put it away.

“We don’t want to incite something we can’t handle here,” his voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “We want to bring this to a calm conclusion.”

I say I agree. At the same time, I know what we’re dealing with. I know that Ellie is the master here. I’ve seen her kind more than a time or two. She’s got Joshua wrapped around her little finger. His family is dead because she wanted them gone.

Just like she wanted her mother and father gone.

Gravel on the road crunches. Backup is here.

Sheriff motions to the deputies to stand back, out of direct view.

We make our way to the barn.

The lawn is green, and I can make out footprints where the blades have been crushed. The scene is a Hallmark card at its surface. The house. The workshop. The barn. The orchard where Mrs. Wheaton’s memorial was held. Apples are ready for picking. Goldfinches have started to lose their bright yellow plumage in favor of fall brown and winter gray.

Joshua appears in the doorway of the barn. His shoulder is bleeding, turning his white T-shirt into a Rorschach of blood.

He staggers toward us. His eyes are wild, full of fear. Confusion too.

“She stabbed me,” he says. “She tried to kill me.”

He falls to his knees onto the dust- and straw-strewn ground.

“Where is she?” I ask, bending down and giving him my jacket.

“Gone. She’s gone.”

I press the jacket against his wound.

“Hold this. You’ll be okay,” I say, though I know that is far from the truth. He’ll be in prison for the rest of his life.

Sheriff speaks up. “What happened?”

Joshua looks lost, bereft. I see tears in his eyes. It’s a trick, I think. She’s in charge of everything. When they talk, what they say, Ellie rules it all. She has more power over her lover than Delilah had over Samson. When we find her, she’ll point the finger directly at him.

He’s in love enough that he’ll let her.

Sheriff lets me take the ball. He doesn’t owe me that, but he respects me enough to give me my moment.

My words are simple and brimming with what I think he needs to hear. They are aimed at getting the truth.