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“Mercy, it sounds dangerous. Yes. Odds are this is some harmless whack job. But four women were brutally killed. Geneva Bell was left for dead. I’m not sure I like the idea of you poking that kind of bear.”

“If it’s a nut job, there’s no harm. At least I can bring poor Geneva some peace of mind. That’s worth doing.”

Dad sighed. If I knew his moods, he was starting to learn mine. He knew once I’d made my mind up to do something, he wouldn’t have much luck dissuading me.

“Well,” he said. “I suppose the first thing you should do is talk to Mac Henderson. He’d be able to tell you who worked the case.” A long-time detective with the Helene County Sheriff’s Department, Mac had recently been elected sheriff.

“Deadwater Lake is in Down County. It wouldn’t have been Mac’s jurisdiction. How much would he have had to do with it?”

“I know several agencies were involved and Mac knows everybody. He’ll be able to tell you who’s who.”

Dad was right though. Sheriff Henderson would be as good a place as any to start.

As if he could read my thoughts, Dad set his napkin down. “I’ll call Mac tonight and let him know you’ll be in his office first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll dig up what I can about Derrek Sidney. See if he had any other victims who survived and might have reported something similar.”

I smiled. There wasn’t much I could do to pull my dad off a project when he set his mind to it either. I was always glad to have his support. At the same time, I knew he’d played me tonight. The Geneva Bell case provided the perfect deflection from the other thing I wanted to talk about. What really happened to the Ford Five Hundred?

Before I could say a word about it, Dad was on the phone with Sheriff Henderson. He said he looked forward to meeting me tomorrow and telling me all he could about one of the darkest nights in the history of the region.

Chapter

Four

Much like my father, Sheriff Mac Henderson was practically a Helene institution. He held the record for the longest-serving detective in the town’s history at twenty-two years. Now, instead of retiring, he ran for sheriff and won. He also loved my dad as much as anyone. So when he agreed to meet with me, I hadn’t expected the grim expression on his face.

“I’m glad you came in,” he said. “This will save me a trip out to the island.”

“What’s going on?”

He pulled out his cell phone and opened his camera roll. Sliding the phone across his desk to me, he said, “Came in this morning.”

I picked up the phone. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. It was a deer crossing road sign twisted backward at a forty-five-degree angle. I could play dumb, but I knew what he was about to ask me.

“I’m not looking to accuse anyone of anything. But Sam Hart said he saw Tom tinkering with that clunker of his in the alley yesterday. Lou Whittaker was working out in his cornfield. He said he heard a loud crunch, then saw your dad driving off like a bat out of hell. And ...”

“And,” I finished for him. “There’s a suspicious streak of yellow paint in the dent.” It perfectly matched the orangish-yellow tint of the road sign.

“Any chance you were the one driving?” he asked. “To be clear, I’m not gonna have anyone cited. Under the circumstances, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“Thank you,” I said, handing his phone back to him.

“How’s he doing?”

Of course, I had the same fear as Mac did. Had my father become dangerous behind the wheel or was this just a garden variety mistake any one of us could have made?

“He’s doing okay,” I said. “Some days are better than others.”

“Mercy. You know how much I love Tom. I wouldn’t be sitting behind this desk without his support during the election. I’m on his side ... but ...”

“But this isn’t about sides and it’s not about how much he means to you. I get it. The answer to your question is, I don’t know.” I could have told him about my father’s insistence that someone had sideswiped the Five Hundred. And maybe they had. Mac’s photo and what Lou Whittaker heard weren’t proof that my dad had anything to do with the damage to that sign. At the same time, both Mac and I knew what had probably happened.

“Okay. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t pay Tom a visit about this. Not this time. I’ll trust you to let me know if something needs to happen.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep an eye on him. And I’ll talk to him again about the car.”

Mac seemed satisfied, but it didn’t fully remove the scowl on his face. “Who’s keeping an eye on you?”

“I’m fine.”