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I signaled Peters to stay close and followed her around the side of the stage. The music continued for another few seconds before someone at the sound equipment cut it off. The sudden silence made the scattered voices and footsteps around us seem unnaturally loud.

Harvey Sinclair lay on the ground behind the stage. I knew him, of course. Nearly everyone in Hartwell Cove knew Harvey, if only by reputation. He’d managed the local branch of Chesapeake Shore Community Bank for about twenty-five years. I remembered him from when I was a teenager, opening my first bank account to deposit the money I’d earned from summer jobs. He’d been the one behind the desk, smiling as he explained how savings accounts worked and congratulating me on being sensible enough to start saving early.

I’d never expected to find him lying behind a festival stage, his eyes staring sightlessly at something only the dead could ever see.

Then I noticed the blood pooling from under his head.

Peters went pale beside me. For a moment, he swayed, and I caught his arm before he stumbled.

“Call an ambulance. Now.”

He fumbled for his radio, and I crouched beside Harvey without touching him. I checked for any obvious signs of life while keeping my hands clear of the blood. There was nothing I could do for him. I’d seen death before, both during my military service and later in law enforcement, but that didn’t make the sight of a dead man any easier to accept. Harvey had been talking to people, conducting business, and walking around the festival only hours earlier. Now he was gone, and somebody had left him here.

I straightened and looked around the cramped space behind the stage. Temporary equipment cases and stacked festival supplies made the area awkward to navigate. There were several possible ways someone could have approached Harvey without being seen by most of the crowd, especially with the music playing and people moving between the attractions. I made a mental note of the layout before stepping back to let the paramedics reach him when they arrived.

By then, the volunteer had drawn a small crowd toward the side of the stage. I ordered everyone back and told Peters to keep people away from the immediate area. The festival grounds had been busy all afternoon, and I had no way of knowing who might have witnessed something important or disturbed evidence without realizing it.

I emerged from behind the stage and found the crowd growing restless. People were trying to see past one another, and several were calling out questions. I recognized familiar faces among them, including Max Cooper, standing with Ricky and Tammy. Even in the confusion, I noticed Max’s glasses. He hadn’t worn them when we were younger. His astigmatism must have worsened over the years, though it was strange what my mind chose to notice at a moment like this.

I pushed that thought aside and concentrated on the crowd.

I stepped up where the festivalgoers could see me and raised my voice over the unsettled murmur.

“I'm Sheriff Mercer. I need everyone to remain calm and listen carefully. A serious incident has occurred behind the bandstand, and the festival is closed for the evening. Please remain where you are until a deputy has spoken with you. Do not leave the festival grounds, and do not approach the bandstand or the area behind the stage.”

A murmur swept through the crowd. Some people began asking questions, while others craned their necks to see what was happening behind the stage. I waited for the noise to settle before continuing.

“Anyone who has been in the vicinity of the bandstand within the last hour needs to tell a deputy. That includes festival volunteers, committee members, performers, vendors working nearby, and anyone who was simply passing through. If you saw something unusual or spoke with Harvey Sinclair tonight, we need to hear from you. Don't assume something wasn't important just because it seemed ordinary at the time.”

“The festival is closed,” I repeated firmly. “I need everyone to cooperate with my deputies. We'll tell you when you can leave.”

I turned to Peters and the other deputy. “Keep everyone who was in the immediate vicinity of the bandstand together while we establish who was there. Find out who has been in the area within the last hour, including volunteers, committee members, performers, and vendors. Get their names, and make sure nobody leaves before we've determined whether we need a statement.”

The other deputies began helping manage the crowd, guiding people away from the backstage area while checking whether anyone had been near the bandstand during the last hour. Peters and the other deputy stayed with those closest to the scene, keeping them together and beginning to establish who might have seen something useful.

I looked back at the crowd. People were frightened and confused, and some were already trying to piece together what had happened. I needed them to understand that even a detail that seemed unimportant might matter to the investigation.

The paramedics arrived and went directly to Harvey. I gave them room to work while I spoke briefly to the lead medic, who confirmed what I’d already suspected. Harvey was dead. There was no point in pretending otherwise, and I wasn’t going to give his family false hope by suggesting we might have been too late to save him.

Once the scene was secured, I asked the paramedics whether they’d noticed anything that might help establish a preliminary timeline. Harvey’s wristwatch had stopped at 7:43. I noted the time carefully. A stopped watch could mean several things, and I wasn’t going to treat it as proof of anything until we had more information, but it was worth recording.

I also needed to speak with the volunteer who’d discovered the body. She was sitting on a folding chair with another volunteer beside her, still shaken by what she’d found. I crouched in front of her and asked her to tell me what had happened, starting with why she’d gone behind the stage. She explained that she’d gone to retrieve a box and had found Harvey on the ground. She hadn’t seen anyone else back there, or at least no one she could identify. I let her take her time, noting her account without pushing her to fill gaps she couldn’t remember.

When I stood, I saw a woman from the festival committee clutching a clipboard to her chest. Her face crumpled as a deputy spoke to her.

“I can’t believe Harvey’s dead!”

The words carried farther than she probably intended. I understood the shock. Harvey had been part of the town’s business community for decades, and most people at the festival had arrived expecting music, food, and an ordinary Sunday evening. Now they were trying to understand how a man could be alive and walking around the grounds one moment, dead behind a stage the next.

I needed to establish who’d been near the bandstand, who’d had a reason to speak with Harvey, and whether anyone had noticed something out of place. I also needed to be careful not to let the crowd’s shock turn into speculation that would contaminate what people remembered.

I returned to the perimeter and spoke with another officer. While we discussed the next steps, I scanned the gathered festivalgoers, trying to distinguish those who were merely curious from anyone who might have seen something important.

Then I saw Max with Ricky and Tammy.

Even from a distance, I could pick him out without difficulty. I’d known him since we were children, and no amount of time could entirely erase the instinct to look for him in a crowd. That was a personal truth I had no business indulging while a man lay dead behind me, but I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there.

Ricky was talking, his expression unusually serious. Tammy stood close to Max, and all three of them looked toward the bandstand. I knew Ricky well enough to recognize that his usual chatter had given way to genuine concern. If he’d seen anything, I needed to hear it, but I couldn’t question everyone at once. The immediate scene came first.