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Darlene’s killer alive so he could exact his own revenge. He hadn’t realized how much he’d craved that confrontation, how the urge to make her murderer suffer the way his little sister had suffered had driven him through the years. How much the idea of that revenge had thrilled him.
    Fighting for control, Grady scrutinized the ground for foot patterns.
    The deputy squatted, then leaned his elbows on his knees. “Find anything?”
    â€œHard to tell,” Grady muttered. “Looks like someone might have moved the straw to cover a footprint or scuffle. Then again, the wind and rain last night could have readjusted the soil.” He shifted on the balls of his feet. “I want every inch combed. We’ll send the note and any other evidence to the crime lab in Nashville to be analyzed. Did you find his car?”
    â€œYeah, run into the ditch over there.” Logan pointed to a thicket of trees. “Reeks of whiskey.”
    Grady nodded, then gestured toward the surrounding bushes. “Look for loose or torn bits of clothing. Footprints. Anything to indicate the man might not have been alone. And I want the car impounded and processed.” He stood. “I don’t want this confession leaked in town, either, not until I have a chance to investigate the case thoroughly.” Grady sighed. “For now, this is a suicide, but I’m leaving the case open.”
    Logan nodded, then began combing the bushes while Grady headed toward the paramedics carrying the body to the ambulance. The man’s face was bloody, his clothes smeared with dirt, his broken femur jutting through his ragged pants; it had been severed in two places. His jeans were still damp, indicating he’d probably been there since the night before, but the EMT would give them a better idea of the exact time of death. The fetid odor of lost body fluids hung in the air as Grady checked the corpse for indications of a struggle. A small contusion lacerated the back of his head. If the man had fallen face-first, how had he hit the back of his head? Unless he’d been struck before falling.
    Grady frowned, disturbed by his own train of thought. Maybe he’d fallen, then rolled over.
    The paramedics loaded the stretcher and the ambulance roared off. Grady had to call his father, tell him they’d found Darlene’s killer.
    No, he couldn’t yet. Not until he was sure. Not until he’d checked out the man’s death. Not until he’d notified the next of kin.
    He stalked to the woods to search the area. As soon as he finished, he’d visit the coroner’s office for a full report, then make that call. Even worse, he had to tell the surviving family that their loved one had taken his own life.
    And that he had confessed to a murder.
    * * *
    V IOLET CHECKED HER rearview mirror. Yes, someone was following her. Was on her tail. She wound throughthe side streets, reminding herself that she shouldn’t lead a stranger to her house, then turned right on another side street. Nervous now, she wove through a nearby neighborhood, turned and headed back in the opposite direction. The sedan slowed, then swung into a drive. She sighed in relief. If whoever it was had been following her, he’d realized she was onto him.
    Relaxing slightly, she headed back toward her cottage, then veered onto Palm Walkway. The inside of the cottage seemed dark as she parked and exited her car. Crickets chirped in the background. A bird cawed above.
    Weary now, she climbed the small steps to the stoop, grateful to be home. When she stepped inside, the house was too quiet. “Grammy?”
    Her grandmother was sitting in the wooden chair, pale and listless, the phone clutched in one hand.
    â€œGrammy, what is it?”
    Her grandmother’s blank gaze showed no sign of response.
    â€œMrs. Baker…” A man’s voice called over the line. “Mrs. Baker…are you still there?”
    Violet pried the