“No. It was a genuine case of unfinished business. His death might have been accidental, or it might have been homicide. From what he remembers, it’s hard to tell. He was the victim of a hit and run—car vs. bike. There’s not much more I can tell you because Ben only got a quick glance at the headlights.”
“That explains the death, not the disappearance,” Zack said.
“I gather the driver panicked and buried Ben’s body”
“Poor kid.” Zack’s voice dropped in sympathy.
“Looks like he is stuck here until his killer is found.” Adriel brought Zack up to date on her conversations with Ben, who hadn’t given them much to go on.
“Never a dull moment around you, is there?”
“Ah. Do you…have you…” Adriel wasn’t exactly sure how to frame the question. “Would it help if I arranged a visit from Ben? I assume you have questions. I could interpret if you need me to. Or Kat could. Unless you can talk to him yourself since your trip over the bridge,” she ended lamely.
“No, I wouldn’t be able to see or hear him. We’ve only run into one other death in connection with a case in the past few months. Not a murder, but we did think it was a suicide. Guy’s ghost stuck around long enough to describe his freak accident. Forensics confirmed it after Kat’s unofficial investigation, and we closed the case.” Adriel could hear the pride in his voice.
“You’ll need to talk to Pam. Be gentle with her, Zack. She’s more fragile than she seems. Ben was here right after they found the bones. If he comes back, is there anything you want me to ask him that I haven’t already?”
“Do you think he would be willing to talk to me? Through you, I mean.”
“I’ll ask, but I think it's safe to say he would. He’s ready to move on.”
Zack handed her his card. “Call me if and when. Try to make it soon, though.” The screen door squeaked on hinges no amount of oil would quiet when Zack swung back through on his way out.
***
With all the lights off in the cabin, the velvet sky filled with winking stars mirrored flashes from lighting bugs flitting their complicated dance in the field. Night birds called out the news of the day to each other from perches high in the trees. From her chair on the porch, Adriel listened to the soft chirp of insects, the rustle of a low breeze through maple leaves, and the whisper of wind as it tickled the grass. The night soothed her into a peaceful stupor until something odd caught her eye. No lightning bug, this. A penlight not quite shielded enough to remain hidden swung in a slow arc—forward then down—as though its holder was looking for something. Curiosity stilled her tongue.
Moving toward the area where she had found Lydia, the light bounced once and Adriel heard a low, muttered curse in a male voice she didn’t recognize. “Stupid rock. Never going to find anything in the dark. What was I thinking coming out here this time of night?” An older man by the sound of his voice.
“Can I help you?” She finally spoke into the darkness.
The penlight jerked then aimed right into her eyes. It was brighter than expected, given that the man holding it was at least twenty feet away. She held up a hand to shield the glare, then stepped down from the porch to close the distance between them.
“My name is Adriel.” She squinted to try and see his face. He lowered the light.
“Edward Keough,” rough with emotion, his voice sounded a little out of breath. “Folks call me Ed. You’re the one who found my Lydia. I wasn’t expecting to run into you tonight,” or anyone else if he had his way about it, she’d wager. “Would you mind telling me about how you found her?”
“Only if you’ll come sit on the porch.” The last thing she wanted was for him to keel over in her front yard. “Can I get you anything?” She flipped on the porch light before getting him settled on a lime green plastic chair. Craig had a liking for bright colors.
“Wouldn’t say no to a glass of iced tea if you have some.” Ed flicked off the penlight and Adriel got her first look at him. Grief dimmed, but couldn’t hide the smile lines around his mouth and a pair of kindly blue eyes. Age had salted his hair, cut short on both sides, to a crisp white. She judged him as being at least fifteen years older than his late wife. Maybe more.
“I’ve got lemonade.”
“That’ll do.”
Adriel stepped over the long legs kicked out in front of him to go inside and pour them both a glass. She took her time, giving him a chance to rest and regain his breath. Besides, she wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. Telling him the details of finding his wife after her brutal attack didn’t rate anywhere on her list of fun things to do.
He took the tall glass of lemonade and drank gratefully.
“I’d like to thank you for what you did for Lydia.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Ed snorted. “Appreciate that. Lydia wasn’t well liked around town. I know that. She knew it, too. She liked things to be just so, and didn’t much care whether it was her business to judge others for not feeling the same; but she meant well. In her own way.”
While Adriel wondered how he had found the strength to walk here, and whether it would be polite to ask, she let him ramble on about Lydia until he was back on more stable footing.
“Tell me how you found her.”
Adriel’s brain immediately supplied the truth. She’d been guided to Lydia by the voice of one of her former colleagues. Estelle refused to admit it straight out, but it wasn’t much of a stretch to fill in the blanks. However, blurting out the truth wouldn’t
