“Yes, ma’am.” Quinn drank some coffee, the little room reminding him a lot of the house where he grew up, nearly the identical blueprint, probably built by the same people. Basic sixties ranch style, brick and wood, with a wide porch outside and a view of the forest. Brandon had had two sisters, Shaina and an older sister named Charlene. Charlene had been in Quinn’s class, a heavyset girl who’d been manager of the town’s Hollywood Video back when folks still rented movies. Last Quinn had heard, Charlene had moved to Orlando with her second husband, a used-car salesman named Tommy Reeves who played high school ball with Quinn.

“I’ll tell you what Shaina told those women from New York City,” Mrs. Taylor said. “I figure they’ve come to see you, too. I don’t really know what to make of those folks. One of them has blue hair. Why do they care so much about what happened to our Brandon? Why would they come all the way down to Tibbehah County to start shining a flashlight in the dark, looking for an answer nobody seems to know? Just ’cause Shaina asked them? I don’t believe for a hot second that’s true. There aren’t too many of us left, really. My Tim’s dead, Charlene’s gone to Orlando. About the only people still left are Shaina, Maggie, and me. Kind of a small club, ain’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Quinn said. “I promised my wife and those women I’d do my best to find some answers.”

Rhonda’s face didn’t change, her slightly opened mouth still, eyes looking right into Quinn. She looked as if he’d betrayed her in the same way, although he believed he was doing the right thing. What Maggie wanted him to do. What Shaina Taylor said she wanted.

“Why?” she said. “Just to get the blame off your uncle?”

Quinn shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“Hadn’t you heard?” Mrs. Taylor said. “He let that awful old man go. Hubie Phillips had all the answers and he just let him go. Tail tucked between his bony legs and skittering on out of this county like some kind of perverted animal.”

Quinn nodded as he wrote down some notes. “I heard he might be up in Memphis somewhere?”

“Why don’t you ask those New York women?” she said. “Them Bobbsey Twins. Seems like those gals are two steps ahead of you, Sheriff.”

*   *   *