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“My bedroom’s on the second floor, all the way at the other end of the house from hers. And I’ve, well, I’ve been going out nights and not getting back until late. She might have thought I was out and didn’t bother to check.”
“I see. You don’t want to burn the midnight oil too much; it’s bad for your complexion.”
“I figure I might as well do it while I have the energy. I have a lot of years to be dull and boring.”
“I don’t think anyone would ever describe you in those terms. Made any decisions for the future?”
“I got a job offer from a big petrochemical company to be a field engineer. The assignment is overseas. I’m thinking about it.”
“Well, you’d be, without a doubt, the prettiest field engineer anyone’s ever seen.”
“You keep talking that way, I might start to think you have intentions.”
“I don’t think I could keep up with you.”
“You might surprise yourself, Mr. King.”
As Savannah rode off, King’s gaze followed her. He’d forgotten her particular talent: chemical engineering. And she, like many others in this bizarre case, had no alibi for the time her father was killed. And yet that was only one death and one killer. What was the other murderer doing right now? Seeking to add to his list of victims?
He found Sally in the stables mucking the stalls.
She leaned on her shovel and wiped the sweat off her brow.
“I see Savannah’s back to riding,” said King.
She looked at her shovel. “Never seen her doing this part of the job, though.”
King decided to get right down to it. “I saw you at the funeral.”
“Mr. Battle had a lot of friends. There sure were tons of people there.”
“No, I meant Junior Deaver’s funeral.”
Sally froze. “Junior Deaver?” she said cautiously.
“Unless you have an identical twin, you were praying over his grave.”
Sally started mucking again while King studied her.
“You can tell me or the FBI, it’s up to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sean. Why would I be praying over Junior’s grave? Like I told you, I hardly knew the man.”
“That’s what I came here to ask you, because you obviously did know him.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“Are you sure you want to do it this way?”
“I’ve got a lot of work to get done today.”
“Fine, it’s your call. Do you know a good lawyer?”
Sally stopped shoveling and looked at him fearfully. “What would I need with a lawyer? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
King took the shovel from her and set it aside. Then he drew very close, backing Sally up to one of the horse stall gates. “Let me make this as clear as I can. If you knowingly have material information about either Junior Deaver’s murder or the burglary and you fail to come forward to the authorities, that’s a crime punishable by imprisonment. And if you’re charged with that crime, you’re going to need a lawyer. If you don’t have one, I can recommend several good ones.”
Sally looked like she was a second away from bursting into tears.
