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cruise, and right here is the
bodies.’’ He rolled up the maps, put them back in the
tube and handed it to her.
‘‘I appreciate this.’’
‘‘Glad to help...’’
As he spoke, they heard the sound of a motor. The
deputy coming back, thought Diane. But a dark blue
SUV appeared over the rise.
‘‘Oh, Jesus,’’ said Chris.

Chapter
4
    Diane
knew what Chris and Steven were thinking. The
same thought flashed through her mind—the killer. As
the vehicle slowed to a stop, the letters WXNG on the
magnetic
sign attached
to
the
side brought
relief
to
Chris and Steven. But not to Diane. She crossed in
front of the vehicle and walked to the driver’s side.
    ‘‘Can
I help you?’’ she asked the woman who ap
peared as the window slid down.
‘‘WXNG
news.’’
The
woman,
perhaps
twenty-five
with fine brown hair and eyes to match, looked Diane
up and down a moment and spotted the identification
that hung from a cord around her neck. ‘‘What can
you tell us?’’ she asked.
‘‘Not a thing. Have you seen the sheriff?’’
‘‘The deputy said he’s at the scene. We heard it’s a
racial thing.’’
Thing, thought Diane. What a way to describe the
horror
of
murder.
Diane
measured
her
words.
She
could
see
‘‘No
comment’’
appearing
in
the
news,
something like: ‘‘The authorities at the scene had no
comment when asked if this was a racially motivated
crime.’’
‘‘What do you mean?’’ Diane asked.
‘‘We heard that someone lynched three black men.’’
‘‘You’ve been given incorrect information. For more
than that, you need to talk to the sheriff.’’
‘‘That’s who we’re going to see.’’ She turned to her
passenger.
‘‘I
see
a
road
down
there.
I
think
that’ll
get us to the crime scene.’’
‘‘That roadway’s part of the crime scene. You can’t
go there,’’ said Diane.
‘‘People around here want to know what’s going on.
It’s my job to tell them, and I’m going to do it.’’
‘‘Not by contaminating the crime scene, you’re not.
You
get
near
that
roadway,
I’ll
impound
your
vehicle.’’
‘‘You can’t do that.’’
‘‘Yes, I can. If you continue on after I’ve told you
it’s a crime scene, I’ll have you arrested. You can get
the information you want, just not through here. Drive
back to the road. I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you
want to speak with him.’’
Diane took her phone and punched in the sheriff’s
number with her thumb, not taking her eyes off the
woman.
When
he
answered
she
told
him
about
the
reporter. She also asked him to send one of her team
with some crime scene tape to rope off the roadway
to the scene.
‘‘Damn reporters,’’ he said. ‘‘I suppose they’ve got
ten on to this racial thing going around.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘You told them it wasn’t, didn’t you?’’
‘‘Yes. And I also told them that all other informa
tion had to come from you.’’
‘‘You did, did you? I suppose I got to talk to them
sometime. Tell them I’ll meet them up at the road.’’
Diane relayed the message. The woman was reluc
tant. She sat in her SUV, not making a move to put
her car in gear. ‘‘I need to pull down there so I can
turn around.’’ She pointed to the forbidden path.
Diane had the impression she was planning to make
a break for it. ‘‘I’m sorry, but you can’t. As I said, it’s
part of the crime scene.’’
‘‘Well,
where
the
hell
do
you
expect
me
to
turn
around?’’
‘‘Not at the crime scene. If you back up several feet,
there’s a small turnaround between those trees.’’
‘‘Back up?’’ She said it as though her vehicle didn’t
have a reverse gear.
‘‘Yes.’’
She reluctantly put her car in gear and started to
back up, then abruptly slammed on the brakes, throw
ing her passenger forward and backward. She stepped
out of the car and turned toward Steven and Chris.
‘‘Who
are
you
two?
Are
you
the
ones
who
found
the