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wider angle shot of the faint tracks in the snow, leading toward the shed, but didn’t really have much hope. As I turned toward my car to get a fresh roll of film, I saw Fred’s face in the back of Mike’s car. He was just watching, but looked pretty rough. I guess he really began to catch on when he saw my camera flash down by the shed. Mike said later that Fred started to cry about then.
     
Five
     
Tuesday, January 13, 1998, 0123
     
    “Three…” came the familiar voice of my favorite dispatcher, Sally Wells. She was obviously the second dispatcher called in. That made me feel a lot better, as Sally had been with us for years, and was a certified departmental asset.
    “Go ahead,” I said, turning my head toward the mike mounted on my left shoulder.
    “Ten-sixty-nine on items two and three.”
    “Ten-four.”
    “Regarding item two, the mobile unit will be ten-seventy-six within ten minutes or so, with the other assistance to be ten-seventy-six shortly.” Translated, that meant that the mobil crime lab would be on its way to us within ten minutes, and a DCI agent or two would be coming in shortly. The bad part was that the mobil crime lab was in Des Moines, about three to four hours away. The good part was that the agents were based much closer.
    “And … uh … Three, could you get back to a phone?”
    That was unusual, and I really didn’t want to do it, because it meant that I’d have to traipse back through part of the house again. But Sally knew what she was about, and she wouldn’t ask if it weren’t really necessary.
    I let myself back in the Borglan house, and called the office.
    “Sheriff’s Department…”
    “Better be good,” I said, grinning.
    “You’re not gonna like this one bit,” said Sally.
    “So…?”
    “The assigned agent is Art Meyerman.”
    Oh, great. Just great. Art Meyerman had been the chief deputy in our department for several years, was a thoroughly unpleasant man, and had left under a bit of a cloud. He’d gotten a job with state, with what I suspected was a bit of political assistance, and had become an agent for the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. It was rare, but it happened.
    I suspected that state wouldn’t send Art back into his old county lightly. He’d been with them in Waterloo for almost two years, and as far as I knew, had never set foot in Nation County during that time. There had to be a shortage of available agents, for some reason.
    I took a deep breath, and exhaled. “Hokay, Sally. Why don’t you get Lamar to stop off in the office on his way through town, and give him the news. Maybe he can make something else happen…”
    I truly didn’t want to be working with Art again. Although he and I could get along if necessary, he hated Mike, Sally, and just about half the rest of the department. With a double homicide, I wanted a really smooth investigation.
    “Maybe Hester Gorse is available?” Hester was just about the best General Crim. agent in the state.
    “Already checked, she’s still on her temporary gambling boat rotation. They won’t pull her out. I tried.” The
General Beauregard
, a Mississippi River gaming boat was home-ported in our county.
    “Right.” Well, we’d just have to make the best of it. If there was a best. “Right,” I said, again. “Well, as long as I’ve got you on the phone, get an ETA for the medical examiner, will you? And find out who it is.”
    “You bet. Sorry about Art.”
    “Not your fault. Just remember that you secretly love him…”
    “Yeah,” said Sally. “Right.” If she could have spit over the phone, she would have.
    I got that spooky feeling again, just as I hung up the phone.
    I talked to Mike on my way to my own car. “You might want to move your car around over there,” I said, pointing in the general direction of the steeper of the slopes leading to the backyard, where his lights would do the most good and he could observe the back door. “I’d feel better, just in case