"I believe she's going to meet you halfway and show you the location of the body. It's at the far end of the property, where the new electrical fencing is going up."

"What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you were with her when she found it."

Clare shook her head. "I came to pick up Amado."

He looked at her blankly.

"The kid with the broken arm? Our interim sexton."

Oh, yeah. A fourteen-dollar name for the temporary janitor. "I remember."

"Janet asked me to call it in and wait for… whoever showed up. She said cell phones rarely work out there."

"Did she give you a description of what she saw?"

Clare paused. When she spoke, she spoke as if dictating for an unseen recorder. "The body is a male Latino, bloated, with damage to the back of the skull that might be from a gunshot wound."

"Did she recognize him as one of the missing workers?"

She shook her head. "No. She was sure it wasn't one of them."

"How?"

She blanked. "Uh… pictures?"

"Anything else? Description? Clothing?"

"No. Janet was pretty upset." She looked into his eyes. "Go easy on her when you talk to her, okay?"

"As easy as I can."

She nodded. Turned and pointed to the other side of the barn. "There's a two-rut road running between the big barn and those outbuildings that leads toward the mountain. She took that."

A black GMC Scout slowed on the road and turned into the barnyard, doglegging tight to park on the other side of Janet's car. Russ didn't recognize the car, but he wasn't surprised to see the Glens Falls pathologist get out. By his jeans and WASHINGTON COUNTY SOFTBALL LEAGUE T-shirt, Russ deducted they had interrupted Scheeler's Saturday morning game.

"Chief Van Alstyne." Scheeler crossed toward their small group. "Good to see you again." He shook Russ's hand. The clip-bearded pathologist radiated the kind of intellectual intensity Russ associated with revolutionaries and Jesuits. Now he trained that intensity on Russ. "I was so sorry to hear about your wife. It must have been a great loss."

"Yes. Thank you." Russ inhaled. "You haven't met our newest officer, Hadley Knox." Knox and the pathologist shook hands. "And this is the Reverend Clare Fergusson."

Scheeler's dark eyebrows went up as he shook Clare's hand. "Are you the one who found the decedent, Ms. Fergusson?"

Russ answered for her. "No. Unfortunately, that was my sister."

Scheeler's attention returned to him. "You do have a small town here, don't you? Is this going to be awkward?"

Only if she killed the guy. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had he come back to his hometown for this job? He knew there had been a reason, but damned if he could remember it.

"I arrested my mother a couple years ago," Russ said. "I figure I can handle questioning my sister. If I have to rough her up, I'll just ask Officer Knox to take over."

"Chief?" Knox's eyes went round again.

"He's joking, Hadley." Clare gave him a we-are-not-amused look. Scheeler's black eyes glinted. Russ gestured toward the Scout with his head.

"Does that thing have four-wheel drive?"

"It wouldn't do me much good in the winter if it didn't."

"Can we take it? We have to get across a few pastures to the site, and our squad car isn't built for off-roading."

"As long as I can bill the town for the car wash afterward."

"You got it," Russ said. "Throw in a wax, too."

"Do we need to wait for the State Crime Scene truck?"

"We haven't called them in yet. You're here to help us figure out if this is a crime scene."

Scheeler nodded. "Let's go see, then. Officer Knox?" The pathologist ushered the young officer toward the SUV.

Russ turned toward Clare. "I know asking you to stay away is a lost cause, but-"

She raised her hands. "My part in this is done. I'm collecting Amado and heading back to St. Alban's. I-"

"No, no, no!"

"What?"

"Your interim sexton is the only person I have who might be able to ID our body. I need him."

"Why? Because he's Latino? I told you, the dead man isn't one of the missing workers."

"How do you know?"

"I-" She poked at her hair, twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes slid past him to examine the silos. He frowned. She wasn't being straight with him.

"Clare…?"

"I don't know," she blurted out. "But I really do need Amado. We have to get the church cleaned up after the noon Eucharist and ready for the choir concert tonight, and then put it back to rights after the concert." She glanced at her watch, a steel-edged Seiko hanging from a much-worse-for-wear khaki strap. "He should be done for the afternoon by three or four. Could you wait until then?"

He exhaled. "I'll send someone by St. Alban's to pick him up. If you promise me you won't discuss anything you know with him beforehand."

"I promise," she said, holding up two fingers like a Girl Scout. "Most of our communicating is done via the Pocket Guide to Useful Spanish Phrases, anyway."

"Yeah? How useful is it?"

"It would be great if I needed to tell him how long I wanted a hotel room or rental car. It's a little thin on 'Help me move this pew' and 'Can you vacuum here?' "

He snorted. "I bet. Look, what time do you need him back?"

"The concert's from seven to eight, so-" She frowned. "Wait a minute. It doesn't take four hours to identify a body."

"I may need to ask him a few questions."

"A few questions! The boy doesn't know a word of English."

"Entonces es una buena cosa que sé hablar español."

She looked at him, suspicion glittering green in her hazel eyes. "I want you to promise me you'll accord him the same rights and warnings you would any English-speaking citizen."

"What do you think I'd do?"

"I don't know. But I know you. You've got an unexplained dead man in your town, and that's going to ride you and ride you like a jockey with a whip until you can figure out who and what and where and why. I don't want my poor sexton getting trampled because he's in the way."

He blinked. I know you. "Okay," he said.

"Okay?"

"I won't treat your guy any different than I would anyone else."

Her mouth quirked, one-sided. "I'm not sure that's a comfort."

"You know what I mean."

She nodded. "Yes. I do." Their words hung in the air like dust motes floating through the late-morning sun. He had that sense that he only ever got around Clare, that they were saying one thing and talking about something entirely different.

"So." She studied her watch. Glanced toward the barn. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah." He took a step toward the waiting Scout. Turned back toward her. "How have you been?"

She looked surprised. "Good. I've been good. Keeping busy. Last Sunday was Pentecost, that's a big one, and this evening we've got the concert, and then the parish picnic is coming up next week, So… busy. Good." She looked at him, with her eyes that always seemed to say You can tell me anything, and it'll be all right. "You?"

"I'm doing okay. Still at my mom's for the time being."

She nodded. "I bet that helps. Both of you."

"Yeah. I-" Miss you. He cleared his throat.

"¿Señora Reverenda?" They both turned to see the young man they had been discussing lope across the barnyard, a small duffel bag clutched in his good hand.

"This way, Señor Esfuentes." Clare pointed toward her car, already moving, already leaving him. "Sorry," she called over her shoulder. "I can't be late for the noon Eucharist. Say hi to your mother for me." And then she was gone, slipping into her Subaru, starting up the engine before the kid had even shut his door. Eager to get away from him. Not that he could blame her.

The Scout honked. Knox powered down the window. "Are you coming, Chief?"