He walked across the dining room and into the kitchen as if led by an invisible cord that had strung itself around his waist, and he opened the door that led to the garage. To think that Danny had stood in this very spot just two nights ago, debating whether or not to murder his wife. If only he had come to his senses and, if for no other reason than self-preservation, realized he would never get away with it. He could have walked into the garage, driven that dope Logan to his car, and called it a night. Aside from everything else, his decision had been downright stupid. Danny must have presumed that he would be able to lure Logan up to the room after killing Rachel, and then make it look as if he had killed Logan in self defense. Or perhaps he had been out of his mind. Or perhaps something had had him in its grip.

Mitch closed the door but still couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that had consumed him the minute he walked in the front door. He had the feeling he was being watched by someone, and indeed he was. The silent cop had followed him without so much as a harrumph to announce his presence. As the sheriff walked into the kitchen, Mitch’s eye caught three kitchen knives that were lying next to a wooden block.

“Sheriff, were the knives out like that when you first discovered the crime scene?”

“I’m afraid they were, but we have no idea why they were left out, or why Mr. Turner chose to use such a small knife. None of it makes any sense to me.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Mitch replied as he went off to look for Carolyn and Maryann.