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dull gray sky, the face in his dreams faded like wind-blown dust.
     

HOLLAND, MAINE, DAILY NEWS, SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 1977 BIZARRE MURDER. SUSPECT SOUGHT
     
    HOLLAND—The body of Billy Wilson, a local boy, was discovered last night by a passing motorist. The body was found in an area known locally as the Bog.
    Police Chief Virgil Shaw received word of the discovery at approximately 11:45 last night and went immediately to the scene. State police were notified and will assist in the investigation.
    The driver, who wishes to remain unidentified, states that he was driving along the Lovewell Road when he noticed someone walking on the side of the road. As his car approached, the individual ran off into the woods. The driver got out to investigate and found the boy.
    Anyone with any information is asked to call Chief Shaw.
    Funeral services for Billy Wilson are scheduled for Monday. Local schools will be dismissed to attend.

Chapter Two
     
    I
     
    S haw looked like hell, David thought. If he had had any sleep at all, it hadn’t been more than an hour or two, and his eyes were red and rheumy. He sat at his desk, hunched over a typewriter, typing rapid-fire two-finger hunt-and-peck. He paused, pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, sat back, and took a sip of the cold coffee that waited beside his elbow.
    “Sometimes seems as though police work is more paper work than footwork,” he said, smiling feebly. David nodded.
    “There’s a lot to report, and just like the military, it seems as though everything has to be written in triplicate or more.” He turned back to his machine and, as he typed, David had plenty of time to observe him.
    Actually, David was surprised at how much the police chief had aged. If he had thought about it at all, he figured things wouldn’t have changed that much in the time he had been away from Holland. Eight years ago he had returned home for his grandmother’s funeral; before that, he had been living in New York City for six years. When he stopped to think about it, fourteen years was quite a long time—at least, it showed on Chief Shaw.
    David had always admired Shaw, ever since he could remember. The chief had always been an imposing figure in David’s childhood awareness, and even as David grew, the man always seemed to be larger than anyone else in town. The power of a man with a badge, David thought, shaking his head and smiling to himself. He was having quite a difficult time reconciling his exaggerated memory of the man with this bespectacled, thin, aged man sitting hunched over his typewriter.
    “You didn’t happen to get a receipt at the toll booth in Portland, didya?” Shaw asked suddenly, turning around to face David.
    Caught in his reminiscences, David jumped in his seat before stammering, “Uh . . . no, no I didn’t.”
    “Aww.” Shaw shook his head. “Too bad. If you had, you know, like if you was gonna write this trip off as a business expense, you might’ve used a receipt. That would have made it pretty easy to figure your arrival in Holland, using average speeds.”
    David grunted.
    “Then, you see, we could use that time compared to the estimated time of death to—”
    “Wait just a minute.” David leaned forward, shaking his finger at Shaw. “You’re making it sound like I’m under suspicion for this or something.”
    Shaw fixed David with a steady gaze that made him uncomfortable.
    “Well?” David said, his voice much toned down. “Am I?”
    Shaw pushed himself away from his typewriter and stood up. He walked around to the front of the desk and sat down. Folding his arms across his chest, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling as he began to speak. “Now Davie, I know you. I’ve known your family all my life. Both of us have pretty strong roots here in Holland.” He fixed his gaze on David and continued. “But there’s been a murder here in town and, as police chief, I have to follow everything— everything that might be a