By Mary Logue
The unsolved murders at a distant Wisconsin farmhouse part a century in the past have receded into time. yet one deranged guy will do something to ensure that all of Pepin County recollects that bloody day. whilst a volume of risky insecticides is stolen from the neighborhood co-op, Deputy Sheriff Claire Watkins is named in to enquire. The thief has left one strange clue: the finger bone of a kid lengthy lifeless. to be had simply in secret four.
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They rode for a few moments in silence. Sorenson debated whether he should turn the air-conditioning on. He tried to use it as little as possible. Cost him in gas and he wasn’t sure it was good for his health. When it was hot, he thought it was better if you stayed one temperature. But he worried that maybe the deputy was uncomfortable. ” he asked. “I’m fine. ” she commented. “Mine’s up to my thigh,” he told her with pride. Most of his field was in feed corn, but he had planted a few rows of sweet corn close to the house.
That was the second reason he had a bad feeling. She looked at him and nodded, not saying anything. “There’s one more thing you have to see. He left something for us. We haven’t touched them. Only Petey and I know about this. ” He ushered her into the storage room and pointed at the shelf where the pesticides had been. There, sitting on the shelf in a row, were seven oddly shaped cream-colored pellets, all about an inch long. In midwinter, when cold froze everything out of the air, Rich forgot what a July night could smell like.
He had made a pheasant ragout that could be reheated rather than the grilled pheasant he had planned on. He turned the heat on under the ragout. He brought out the fresh loaf of bread he had bought at the farmer’s market that morning, and then the plate of thick-sliced tomatoes. She appeared in a tight white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her hair was loose. She looked lovely. ” he asked. ” He poured them both a glass and they clinked them together. After taking a sip, he started serving their food.