Page 17 of Forever Dead

“You’re certain?”

Deacon’s expression hardened slightly. “I said there wasn’t.”

Connor let the silence sit for a moment.

Deacon folded his arms.

“All right,” Connor said. “If you remember anything else about that car, call the sheriff’s office.”

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Deacon asked.

“There’s an investigation underway.”

“Is she dead?”

Connor didn’t answer directly. But it was clear from Deacon’s expression he could tell the answer was ‘yes’.

Deacon’s attention shifted again toward the farmhouse across the field. Whatever Connor had sensed in his answers had not gone away. He was holding something back. Maybe it mattered. Maybe it was an old argument he did not want dragged into a murder inquiry.

Connor took one of his cards from his jacket and offered it to him. “Anything comes back to you, even if it seems small, you call.”

Deacon accepted it without reading it. “All right.”

Connor turned and started across the yard.

“Sheriff.”

He stopped.

Deacon remained on the porch; the card pinched between two fingers.

“What’s going to happen with the house?”

For a second Connor thought he had misheard him.

“What?” Connor asked.

“Her place. If she’s... If there’s nobody there now. What happens to it?”

Connor stared at him.

Eleanor’s body was still lying on the dining-room floor less than two hundred yards away.

“She’s not even cold, Deacon. That’s none of your concern.”

Deacon’s mouth opened.

Connor did not wait for whatever explanation followed.

*

The wind strengthened as he crossed the field. Leaves rushed past his boots and gathered against the fence. He climbed over, landed on the other side, and headed back toward the farmhouse.

Arnold was on the porch talking into his radio.

He ended the transmission when he saw Connor. “Anything?”

“Headlights after ten,” Connor said. “Deacon saw a dark vehicle at the bottom of her drive.”