The color came up in his cheeks. “You think I’m wasting your time.” I don’t like being transparent so naturally I denied what he’d said. “I didn’t say you were wasting my time. I understand your concern, but I think it’s misplaced. You can’t be this paranoid.”

He stared at the ground and then looked up again. “I wanted you to have the information in case something happens to me. I didn’t know who else to tell.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“But in case it did. That’s all I’m trying to say. I’ve seen the guy somewhere, but it wasn’t recently.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “I don’t believe you’re in any danger, but what do I know? If it makes you feel better, go ahead and tell me the rest. What did he look like?”

“He was kind of light-haired and not too tall and he was wearing a suit.”

“Can you be more specific? There were six or seven guys out there who fit that description.”

“Not that many. I’d say three, not counting the officers.”

“But it still doesn’t help. The information’s too sketchy and it does me no good,” I said. “I mean, I thought it was pure genius on my part that I found the burial spot based on the flimsy information you gave me the first time out, but I have my limitations . . .”

I stopped. Sutton was watching me with a look of such mute pleading that I relented. “But enough about me,” I said. “What about his car? Did you see what he was driving?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t paying attention. I only noticed him when he’d already parked and he was standing by the road. Next thing I knew, he was gone again.”

I stared at him.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly. “I see what you mean. I haven’t given you much to go on.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“I think so. I’m pretty sure I would.” He hesitated. “If I do, what should I do? Should I, like, follow him or maybe get the number off his license plate?”

“The plate number, sure, but I don’t want you tagging around after the guy. He’ll think you’re a stalker. In any event, the chances of your spotting him again seem remote.”

“True. Anyway, I feel better now that I’ve told you.”

“Good. Is there anything else?”

He looked up, fixing me with those solemn brown doggie eyes. “I know my sister was there. I saw her talking to you.”

“She’s a reporter. That’s what she does. She managed to buttonhole anyone who’d give her the time of day. So what?”

I could see him arranging his words with care.