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attention to the activity around Tim’s grave. The county coroner bowed over Tim’s body and performed the preliminary duties required of the Office of Medical Examiner. The buzz and hum of human investigative activities filled the forest and silenced the animals that made their homes there. The rich smell of over-turned forest soil mingled with the scent of moist pine needles wafting in through the deputy’s open window.
    Standing some distance from his vehicle, Nick spoke to a man carrying a silver clipboard. Black hair spilled out from under the deputy’s tan hat. Tall and broad shouldered, he looked like someone who either worked out or did hard physical labor.
    Rollins nodded his head at Clipboard and made his way back to the car. Frankie wondered at the cause of the deputy’s slight limp as he slid into the driver’s seat.
    “We’ve secured this area and the area where you left your Jeep. We’ll also comb the forest around your cabin. If there’s anything there, we’ll find it.”
    “What happens next?” Frankie searched the deputy’s blue-gray eyes for answers to the dozens of questions swirling around in her head.
    “The state crime lab folks from Santa Fe will process the scene, along with your vehicle. That means they’ll take photos and look for anything that might help in the investigation.”
    “What about Tim?”
    “The coroner’s office will transport his body for autopsy. Once the medical examiner has done her job, there’ll be an inquest. After that, the body should be released for burial.”
    Tears stung Frankie’s eyes. She swiped them away with the back of her hand.
    “It’s never easy losing someone you love, especially like this. I’ve asked you some hard questions, and I’ll have to ask more. I just want you to know I mean no disrespect.”
    Rollins left the car and returned to the gravesite. He and Clipboard talked for a bit before he pulled his ringing phone from a small scabbard attached to his belt and spoke into it. As he listened, he turned toward Frankie, a strange look on his face. He nodded a couple of times, murmured something, and broke the connection.
    The unexpectedly comforting sound of the stream made its way through the open driver’s window, bringing to Frankie’s mind the melody of an old hymn from her childhood. The few words she could remember floated to the surface of her memory: something about angels walking by the bright, shining river of death. Not something that would be sung in a modern church, these lyrics had been wrung from someone’s soul before the discovery of medicines made it easy to relegate death to the never-going-to-happen-to-me-or-mine sphere. She hummed the haunting melody.
    The deputy’s return to the Rover yanked her back to the present. He stooped over and peered at her through the window, a strained look on his face. “You’re sure it was only you and your brother in your Jeep?”
    “Yes.” Frankie felt her face register surprise. “Why?”
    “And neither of you returned fire at the other men?”
    A chill ran up Frankie’s spine. “No. Neither of us brought a weapon. What’s going on?”
    “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come back to the station with me, Miss O’Neil. I just got a call from the officers who secured the area around your cabin. They’ve found a man’s body a few feet from the back door. Can you tell me about that?”
    “I don’t… Maybe one of the men who killed my brother turned on the other and shot him.”
    Rollins’ lips thinned. “Footprints in the muddy driveway at your cabin indicate two people stepped out of a vehicle, wandered around a bit, and then got back in. Because of the rain there’s no way to know exactly when those prints were made. But what we do know is someone shot a man just outside your cabin and left him there to bleed to death.”
    ****
    Frankie spent several hours at the police station in Raton answering questions about Tim’s shooting. Again and again she