The foreman looked at her.

"Yeah," Janet said.

"Well, tell him it's okay to come out. We've got to get the church cleaned for the Eucharist and then ready for the concert tonight."

Janet clutched Clare's arm. "You can't go!"

"Janet, you don't need me. Let Octavio show you where the body is, and then as soon as he's out of sight, call the MKPD."

"I need you to call them for me!"

"Me? Why?"

"Because I'm a terrible liar. You'll be able to do it so much more convincingly."

Boy, if that didn't win the prize for backhanded compliments. She thought of another summer, Russ, grinning at her from the driver's seat of his pickup. You're pretty sneaky, for a priest.

"Please, Clare. Please, please, please."

"Oh, good Lord." She tilted her head up toward the clear blue sky. "All right. I'll give you ten minutes to get there, and then I'll call. But I think it's muddying the waters unnecessarily."

"Thank you!" Janet hugged her, hard. "Cell phones can get tricky out here. Go ahead and use the phone in the tack room." She whirled and, beckoning to the foreman to follow her, vanished around the barn. A moment later, Clare heard an engine fire up.

It struck her that she was going to be on the fringes of a police investigation. Again. The bishop was not going to be happy with her. Her deacon was not going to be happy with her. Russ was most definitely not going to be happy with her.

That thought, at least, cheered her up. She headed into the barn to find the phone.

V

"Fifteen fifty-seven, this is Dispatch."

Russ slowed behind an eighteen-wheeler signaling to turn into the Wal-Mart. He nodded to the officer riding beside him. "Go ahead. Pick it up."

Hadley Knox unclipped the mic and switched it on. "Fifteen fifty-seven, go ahead, Dispatch."

"What's your forty?"

"Uh… Morningside Drive, headed toward Fort Henry."

Outside the garden shop at the Wal-Mart, they had wading pools and riding mowers. He shook his head. Memorial Day was less than a week away. It had only been a little over four months, and they had already slid through two seasons. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of his life? Him, pinned to a snow-ravaged crossroads in January while the world reeled about him?

Harlene's voice slammed his book of remonstrance shut. "We have a report of human remains found on the property at Three-fifteen Lick Springs Road."

Knox stared at the mic. "Human remains? You mean, like a dead body?"

Russ should have corrected her response, but he was too busy trying to envision the farms along the Lick Springs Road. He had a bad feeling he wasn't going to like this. He gestured for the mic. "Harlene," he said, "isn't that my brother-in-law's new place?"

"You got it, Chief."

Christ on a bicycle. That spread had more trouble attached to it than the Dew Drop Inn on a Saturday night. "What do we know?"

"Possible gunshot victim. Latino. Not fresh. No identification as yet."

"Latino?" His stomach soured. Christ. None of the men who had fled the van wreck had been spotted since that night in April. What if one of them had been hurt bad? Not fresh. Yeah, a month-plus out in the open would definitely be not fresh.

"You call the ME?"

"Doc Scheeler from the Glens Falls Hospital is covering for Dr. Dvorak. He's on his way now, along with the bag boys."

"I want Lyle to run the Lost-and-Missing and have it ready for me when I get back."

"He's already on it."

"And get hold of that ICE agent who was supposed to follow up on the missing guest workers." Maybe whoever found the body had been mistaken. Nobody liked to look at a ripe one any longer than necessary-especially his brother-in-law, a guy who got upset when their barn cat killed a mouse. "Who called it in, Mike McGeoch?"

There was a pause. "I believe Mrs. McGeoch found the body."

He sighed. "We're on our way. Fifteen fifty-seven out." He switched on the light bar and stepped on the gas.

"She said gunshot victim. Does that mean it's a homicide?" He stole a glance at his newest officer. Unlike Kevin Flynn, who would be sparking like a live wire at the thought of responding to a violent crime, Knox just looked sick.

"It may be a gunshot victim. My sister-Mrs. McGeoch-isn't any expert. I'd rather go in there with an open mind and see what the scene and the ME can tell us. It could be an accident, suicide-lots of possibilities."

"Oh."

He glanced at her again. "You ever see a dead body before?"

"My grandmother. At the funeral home. I'm guessing this one won't be laid out on satin with an ugly arrangement of carnations draped over him."

Okay. If she could keep her sense of humor, she'd be fine. "Why don't you tell me what we need to do and what we'll be looking for once we get there."

She went through the list with minimal prodding from him, and by the time they emerged from the mountain road into the bright sunshine spilling across the valley he felt confident she could handle herself without a lot of babysitting on his part.

"Is that your sister's house?" Knox asked, pointing to the bungalow ahead.

"No, she and her husband live a few miles down the road. This farm's a new addition to-" He broke off. Janet's car was parked on a denuded piece of earth angled between the massive central barn and the silos, and right next to it was a bright red Subaru WRX. As he pulled in, he saw the old bumper stickers, THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH WELCOMES YOU and MY OTHER CAR IS AN OH-58 had been joined by JESUS IS COMING: LOOK BUSY. His throat felt thick with anticipation and dread.

"Isn't that Reverend Clare's car?" Knox asked. Her eyes went round. "Oh," she said. "Sorry."

He killed the engine. Turned to look at his juniormost officer, who had the same expression he'd expect to find if she'd lost the key to the evidence locker.

"Sorry? What for?"

She had one of those birthstone rings on her finger. She twisted it around in a circle, not meeting his eyes. "Um," she said. "Deputy Chief MacAuley told me not to mention the Reverend around you."

Sweet tap-dancing Jesus. "He did, huh?"

She nodded. "Or St. Alban's."

He opened the door and got out. Popped the locker and retrieved the backpack with their basic evidence kit and a fistful of bright purple non-latex gloves. She got out on her side, and he tossed her a pair. "You don't happen to know if that suggestion was just for you or for the whole department, do you?"

She shrugged, clearly wishing she had never brought the matter up.

Christ only knew what MacAuley had told the rest of the force. Either that he'd break down sobbing or go postal at any reminder of his… his former relationship.

Beloved, his inner voice corrected.

He shook it off. "Officer Knox. In the future, please feel free to talk about the reverend, or St. Alban's, or any other citizen or organization in town. Nobody is off limits to me."

Clare is.

The small side door of the central barn swung open, and she emerged. After picturing her in her BDUs for the past month, he was startled to see her sober clericals: black skirt, black blouse, white collar, silver cross. He became aware of Knox's nervous glance toward him at the same moment he realized he was staring.

"Reverend Fergusson," he said.

"Chief Van Alstyne." She looked at Knox and smiled. "Hi, Hadley. I thought you were teamed up with Officer Flynn."

Knox shook her head. "That was just the one time. Usually, I ride with one of the older officers."

"Mmm." She glanced at Russ, and her eyes lit with a well-worn private joke. "There're few older than Chief Van Alstyne."

"Don't start with me," he said, irrationally pleased that she was teasing him. He glanced over her shoulder, toward the gaping entrance to the barn. "Where's Janet?"