“Do the cops have any motive?”
“They think it was a robbery. She used to keep cash in her jewelry box upstairs, and it’s gone.” Courtney looked over, her eyes glistening and her features contorted with grief. “That man, hekilledher for, like, a hundred bucks.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t believethisis how her life ends. She was so vital and strong. She still had her health. She loved her life. She didn’t deserve this, not at all.”
“I know, honey.” Julia rubbed her back. “It’s shocking and awful and horrible.”
“You know how it is from Mike, right?”
“Yes, it’s awful.”
“Awful.” Courtney exhaled heavily, trying to rally. “The worst part is, Detective Kowalski has never even handled a murder case. He’s new on the job. They’ve only had two murders here in the past thirty years.”
“Wow. I guess there’s not much crime out here.” Julia’s late husband, Mike, had been one of 250 homicides in Philly that year, a heartbreaking statistic.
“Kowalski told me there’s mostly drug offenses and domesticdisputes. He works out of Weaverton and covers three counties. This county doesn’t have the budget to justify a detective anymore. I never really realized this before, but police services aren’t automatic. There has to be a budget to pay for it, and when the density goes down, especially in rural areas, there isn’t the need or the infrastructure.” Courtney straightened. “But, hey, do you remember that story I told you, that there was a murder at the neighboring farm? The neighbor’s name was Bill McKenna, and the cops found a man’s body in his well. It happened about thirty years ago.”
Julia shuddered. “I remember the story, but I thought the murder was more recent.”
“No, Grandma Kay only told me recently, but it happened a while ago. I remember her telling me the man was a drifter. Then McKenna disappeared. They never found him to charge him. I thought there was a new owner but the place burned down.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“Right?”
“So your grandmother’s neighbor could’ve been a murderer.”
“Yes, and the victim’s name was James Shoemaker. I looked it up on my phone.”
“Did you know McKenna? You must’ve been around ten at the time.”
“I was, and I never met him. He hadn’t been there long, and the farms here are large, so it’s not like a neighborhood.”
Julia mulled it over. “Are you thinking the murders could be related?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not ruling it out. It’s unlikely, given they’re so far apart in time, but it’s weird that there’s so few murders hereand two of them were next door to each other.” Courtney shook her head, mystified. “I raised it with Kowalski anyway, and he said he’d investigate.”
Julia looked around. “Where’s McKenna’s house? There’s nothing here but trees and pasture.”
“That way, pretty far.” Courtney waved to her right. “You can’t see anything anymore. It’s all overgrown since the fire.”
Julia startled, flashing on her fiery dream, or vision. “You know, on the way here, I think I dozed a little and had a dream about a fire—”
“Wait, you fell asleep at the wheel?” Courtney’s eyes flew open. “Shit, Jules! That’s dangerous.”
“I know, I’m jet-lagged.”
“Still.” Courtney straightened. “You have to pull over when that happens.”
“I know, I will, but it was just weird.” Julia felt fatigue wash over her again. “I was having all these strange thoughts, even remembering a time my father gaslit me that I hadn’t thought about in, like, ever.”
“But still, pull over.”
“Let me tell you about the fire though, in the dream.” Julia described the fire, the deafening explosion, the burning car and trees. When she was finished, her mouth had gone dry.
“Jesus.” Courtney grimaced, then cocked her head. “Wait. Where did this happen?”