“And I’ve walked both sides of the road, quarter mile in each direction, and didn’t see a thing, but I can take another run at it, go a little farther off the road.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. “You knocked on any doors?”

There were several houses along this stretch but spaced far apart and set back some distance from the road.

“No,” Nancy said. “Needed to stay close, in case anyone drove around the barriers. Had one guy give me a hard time, said he was gonna be late for work. I started to get out my ticket book and he turned around. We don’t know yet who it is?”

Harry shook his head.

“I had a look,” Nancy said, looking grim. “You think an animal did that to him?”

He shook his head again. “No. You hang in, I’ll ask around.”

Harry went to the house closest to where the body had been left, a simple one-story with peeling white paint, several missing shingles, and a rusted tractor in the front yard tangled in enough weeds and grasses that it had become an integral part of the landscaping.

There was a battered Chevy in the drive that dated back to the seventies. The car looked familiar to Harry, who thought he’d pulled it over more than once. He rapped on the front door and waited for the sounds of footsteps within.

The door creaked open twenty seconds later. A man in pajama bottoms and a stained sleeveless undershirt, what Harry thought of as a “wife-beater,” squinted at him.

“Yeah?”

Harry introduced himself, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the patrol cars stationed out on the road. “Had a bit of an incident last night and I was hoping you might be able to help us.”

“What kinda incident?”

“Wondering if you saw or heard anything out of the ordinary last night between, say, eleven and two or three in the morning?”

The man continued to squint. “Don’t I know you?”

“It’s possible, sir. What’s your name?”

“Darrell Crohn, Esquire.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose briefly. “Esquire. So, you’re a lawyer, Mr. Crohn?”

He shook his head. “No, I just like the sound of it. Think you gave me a speeding ticket.”

“It’s very possible.”

“Yeah, that was you. Give me a ticket for driving too fast near the school when it was ten o’clock at night and there wasn’t even any kids around. You folks should be out catching terrorists, not bothering the likes of me.”

“At the moment, sir, I’m not here to bother you, but to seek your assistance in an investigation. You notice anything unusual late last night?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe a vehicle parked out by the road. Some lights. Anything suspicious?”

Darrell Crohn slowly shook his head. “Nope. I was asleep. Went to bed around nine or so, got up maybe an hour ago.”

“Okay, well, thank you for your time.”