Shunning Sarah Read Online Free PDF Page A

traps. Later, with my ex-fiancé, Nick Garnett. He had already raised two boys, but would have embraced fatherhood one more time for me. We’d had the talk.
    Now, out in the news field, was a bad time to be reminded that I lived alone and would probably die alone, too.
    Malik realized I was stumbling for an answer and jumped into the conversation. “I’ve got a little boy and girl and they’re sure a handful.” He pulled out his wallet and was in the process of flashing a proud parent picture from some holiday gathering when she interrupted. “Not you, her.”
    My moment to lie had passed. Moms didn’t need a minute to remember if they had children.
    “No. I don’t have any children,” I replied.
    She nodded like that was what she expected. “Then you’re not going to understand what’s at stake. My priority has to be protecting my son, not going on TV.”
    I was more confused than ever. People who have survived a crisis sometimes have reasons to avoid the media. Guilt. Holding out for a book deal. None seemed to apply here.
    “But your son is safe.”
    Now she was the quiet one, staring into my eyes with a daunting intensity.
    “Josh’s accident is now part of your family history,” I continued. “He will always remember what happened underground. Why don’t the two of you sit on the couch together and tell us the story? You can save the video to remember this day years from now.”
    “Remember?” she said. “Remember this day? I need Josh to forget what he saw down that hole.”
    By the time I’d processed her answer, the door had slammed in our faces again. Her next words came muffled, from inside. “And I need you both to go away.”
    And because we’d been ordered to leave, we did. Without interviews of victim or family. Without pictures of the hole. Yet even empty-handed, I was now convinced we had stumbled upon a potentially more interesting story than a trapped boy.
    Malik and I headed back to the scene, determined to find out what Josh saw down in that hole.

CHAPTER 11
    B ack at the site, one of the state’s crime labs on wheels was parked near the backhoe. High tech and low tech side by side. Several technicians stared down at the ground. The presence of the van told me complicated evidence collection and analysis was taking place while we watched.
    Deputies had strung yellow-and-black Police Line Do Not Cross plastic tape to keep people back in case any showed up. The hole was no longer the backdrop of an unfortunate accident, but the scene of a possible crime.
    The county’s top cop stepped into view from behind the cluster of trees, but ignored my wave. “Sheriff Eide,” I called out. “What’s going on?”
    Malik nudged me and pointed toward the lens of his camera. I put my eye to the viewfinder and noticed a taut rope hanging from the backhoe scoop down into the hole.
    While we watched, a white horizontal object was hoisted up and swung over to the side where two people teetered while reaching for a grip. As they loaded it on a gurney, a corner of fabric fluttered in the wind like a sheet covering …
    “A body?” I asked.
    “That’s just what I was thinking,” Malik answered.
    “Now we know what Josh needs to forget.”
    •   •   •
    Eventually, Sheriff Eide confirmed that authorities had recovered the body of an unidentified woman from the bottom of the sinkhole.
    “Do you believe she also fell in?” I asked. “Or do you suspect foul play?”
    “We have reason to believe the woman’s death is suspicious and we are investigating it as a homicide.”
    “Cause of death?” I asked.
    “We’ll leave that for the medical examiner.”
    That didn’t surprise me. Unless a cop actually sees a perpetrator pull out a gun and shoot a victim, or finds a knife sticking out of the chest of a body, they don’t like speculating on cause of death. “What’s the closest town?”
    “Harmony.”
    A small town with a mellow name. “Have you had any reports of missing