A Valley to Die For by Radine Trees Nehring

ask for a moment alone inside her own home to “freshen up” before she went with the men. Once inside, she ate some crackers, then dawdled, hoping Henry would come in too. She wanted desperately to confer with him before she spent more time with these inquisitive men. She understood why they had to ask questions, but she wondered what Henry expected her to tell them. Should she say anything about the fact that he’d gone to JoAnne’s house and found her not at home yesterday morning? Or should she just say that they’d known JoAnne was missing when she didn’t come to the meeting? Should she mention Henry at all?
    In their time together after finding JoAnne, he hadn’t said she shouldn’t tell everything. But then, maybe neither of them had been thinking clearly. Of course, it made no difference what Henry had done, everything would have a simple explanation. And none of it had anything to do with JoAnne’s death. None of it.
    When it was obvious that Henry wasn’t going to come in the house to get her, she returned to the porch and saw him wiping his hands. Sergeant Taylor was taking fingerprints!
    She glanced at Henry’s face. He looked as tired as she felt, and quite worried. Did his worry have anything to do with the fingerprinting? Something had furrowed his forehead, and when he spoke, offering to accompany Carrie to JoAnne’s house, his tones were higher than the usual low rumble.
    The Sheriff told Henry they’d rather he returned home. “We’ll talk to you later, Mr. King,” Storm said, trying to smile. Don Taylor wrote down Henry’s address and phone number and a description of how to get to his house. After shaking hands with the two men and smiling—a real smile—at Carrie, Henry walked off through the woods.
    Well, never mind, she thought, as Sergeant Taylor rolled her inky fingers on his card. I’ll figure out what to say by myself. Maybe they won’t ask more questions.
    After she’d wiped her hands, Taylor helped her into the back seat of the car marked “Sheriff,” got in the driver’s seat next to Harrison Storm, and followed her directions to JoAnne’s house. When they arrived, she started to get out, but, after asking her where the key was, Taylor indicated she was to wait in the car. She sat back and watched the men carry two large bags into the house.
    They’re going to look for fingerprints, she thought, so they had to have ours to eliminate them. She began speculating about whose fingerprints they might find. Hers, of course, and Susan’s and Putt’s. Well, if fingerprints lasted a long time and JoAnne hadn’t done too much cleaning, Mag’s would be there, and a repairman or two. Since the quarry committee had never met in the house, and Henry had never been inside, that would probably be all.
    Time passed. The car was warm enough with the sun shining on it, but eventually Carrie began to fidget and think about how hungry she was. She wondered how FatCat was reacting to the strangers. They’d probably shut her in the laundry room. She hoped they’d moved her water and the litter box there too.
    It was very quiet. She didn’t even hear bird calls in the nearby woods.
    Then, suddenly, there was the sound of JoAnne’s voice again: “Crime against the land, crime against the land.”
    All right! They wouldn’t let this crime interfere with their fight to stop the quarry, and now they had to win that fight for JoAnne as well.
    Finally Sergeant Taylor came out, opened the car door, and perched backwards on the front seat, looking at her.
    “Let’s see,” he began, “as I recall, you said you were in the house yesterday afternoon and this morning, looking around. Tell me everything you saw that was unusual.”
    That’s not really a question, thought Carrie. He acts like he knows I searched the whole house pretty thoroughly.
    “Well,” she said, “the back door was unlocked, and JoAnne’s address book—it was gone.”
    “And?” he said.
    “The red hat and coat