On his way home from the office, he’d stopped at the liquor depot and picked up a pint of Maker’s Mark, a quart of vodka, and a six-pack of Bass Ale, which he intended to parcel out to himself over the four nights his family would be gone. All he had to do then was dispose of the empties before Carolyn got home. Would she ever know? He thought not. He’d keep his drinking simple—whiskey with a water back, vodka over ice—and remove any telltale evidence first thing Monday morning. No mixers in the liquor cabinet, no bottle caps in the trash, no cut limes in the fridge, and no conspicuous rings on the glass-topped table, where he’d be sitting while the sun went down.

Ahead of him at the curve, cars had slowed and he wondered if there’d been an accident. Maybe someone had hit a deer. He hoped to god it wasn’t a kid on a bike. Fletcher had just mastered his two-wheeler. Linnie was still riding a tricycle, and then only in the park. He wasn’t sure he’d ever permit them to take their bikes on a public road. There wasn’t much vehicular traffic through Horton Ravine, but at the end of the workday, when people headed for home, they often drove faster than the posted limit.

As he got closer, he spotted two cop cars and a mobile evidence van parked on the berm, which suggested an event of a more serious sort. He slowed. There was a smattering of people standing by the road, looking idle and indecisive. The crowd was modest, and it was clear they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves. On impulse, he pulled onto the gravel strip where a number of other cars were parked. He killed the engine and got out. He still had no clue what was going on. An attractive redhead, in slacks and a sweater, stood leaning against the fence. She turned to look at him and gave him a little finger wave. Avis Jent. He recognized her from the country club, though she’d dropped from sight after her divorce.

She held her hand out. “Hello, Walker. Fancy meeting you here.” He smiled and took her hand, leaning forward to give her a perfunctory buss on the cheek. “Avis. It’s been ages. What have you been up to?”

“I just got back from my second stint in rehab. What a drag.”

“Ouch.”

“Big ouch,” she replied. “How are Carolyn and the kids?”

“Good, thanks,” he said. “What’s this about? Was there an accident?”

“The police got a tip about a body buried in the woods.”

His smile faded. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m afraid so. Someone said it was a kid, but that’s as much as I’ve heard. The cops are very tight-lipped.” She removed a cigarette from a packet in her purse. “I don’t suppose you have a match.”

He patted his pockets. “No, sorry.”

She waved him off. “Just as well. I smoke too much as it is. Can you imagine? Horton Ravine and cops are digging up a corpse.”