Scattered Graves

Frank shook hands and they climbed into the cab of the truck. Diane sat between them.
‘‘Buckle up. I didn’t call to tell them we’re coming, just in case you’re right and he is involved in this somehow. But I’ll be real surprised if he is.’’
‘‘Me too,’’ said Diane, fastening her seat belt. ‘‘By the way, we found out Bryce had a man named Curtis Crabtree throw your bones in the river.’’
‘‘That son of a bitch threw them in the river? I ought to make him wade out until he finds them.’’
As the sheriff drove out to
Diane and Frank gave him a
events. The sheriff whistled.
Arlen Wilson’s farm, rundown on current
    ‘‘If that’s not just the worst bunch of . . .’’ Words seemed to fail him. ‘‘You’re telling me they were plan ning on killing you and Mrs. Van Ross? What is Rose wood coming to? When that Jefferies was running for mayor, I didn’t like him one bit. Too slick. But of course it didn’t matter, since I wasn’t voting in that election. The wife said he couldn’t be trusted. She saw his picture in the paper with the governor a lot. Said she didn’t like his face. ’Course, the wife doesn’t like any politicians. I wasn’t fond of Mayor Sutton, but he’s a damn sight better than Jefferies was. You peo ple sure know how to pick ’em. Now, I’ve heard peo ple say some real nice things about Edward Van Ross. That family’s been around here a long time. I know a lot of people would like to see him run in the special election. You think he will?’’
    Diane liked Canfield, but he surely was a talker. ‘‘I don’t know,’’ she said. ‘‘Sutton wanted to know the same thing when I spoke with him.’’
    The sheriff laughed out loud. ‘‘I’ll bet he did. So let me get this straight. Jefferies was running some kind of cybergang that stole peoples’ identities—like run ning up their credit cards and stuff like that?’’
    ‘‘Or borrowing money from a mortgage company using a victim’s house as collateral, then pocketing the money and defaulting on the loan,’’ said Frank. ‘‘They also apply for new credit cards with a stolen identity and register a change of address for the victim. That way, the bills never reach the victim and he never even knows what has happened until thousands of dol lars in charges have been rung up. They have a thou sand different ways to steal money from you if they have the right information,’’ said Frank.
    ‘‘That just boggles the mind. I guess you get a lot of that kind of thing in Atlanta.’’ Canfield said Atlanta the same way he would have said Sodom or Gomorrah .
    ‘‘We do. But it’s everywhere. I imagine you get a lot here in the county, but most of the time people don’t report it. They just try to settle it with the card companies. It takes a couple of years on the average for a person to get their credit straightened out.’’
    Canfield turned off the highway onto a dirt road. It was in good condition but still a little rough for Diane. There weren’t many houses in the area—mostly farms. It was beautiful in the daylight, but all that was visible in the dark was the road ahead, running between farm fences, patches of woods, and an occasional pair of animal eyes shining back from the darkness. The sher iff turned down another dirt road, and Diane thought she saw a mailbox at the intersection with the name Wilson on it, but she wasn’t sure. He drove another half mile or so until he came to a white one-story farmhouse. In the truck’s headlights she could see a red barn about a hundred feet from the house.
    There were lights on inside the house and a car and two pickup trucks were parked in the drive. They got out of the sheriff’s truck and walked up to the house. The sheriff knocked, and Diane heard footsteps com ing to the door. It was opened by a woman whom Diane assumed to be Mrs. Wilson.
    An electric shock ran through Diane. Not even thinking, her heart pounding, she sucked in her breath, readying herself to jump out of danger. It was the kind of autonomic fear response that comes from step ping on a snake.
    But it was not a snake. There was no place to jump. It was a man standing in the shadow behind the open door. He was pointing a gun straight at Diane.
    In the same instant she saw him, Diane realized that one of the pickup trucks in the driveway was a dark Ford Ranger—just like the perp had used at the mu seum. The one that had tried to run her down.

Chapter 50
    It was