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towns. Shootings, fire bombings, animals tortured.”
    “Olivia wasn’t involved in any of that.”
    “Not as far as I know, that’s true. On the other hand, your daughter has been a vocal critic of Mondamin at the local high school.”
    “Free speech isn’t a crime,” Chris said.
    “No, but carrying a gun without a permit is a crime. Murder is a crime. I knew Ashlynn Steele, Mr. Hawk. I used to see her at church every Sunday. Regardless of what you may think about Florian, she was a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I will see she gets justice. I would do that for any man’s daughter.”
    “Sometimes children pay for the sins of the father,” Chris said.
    “Meaning what?”
    “‘ Destruction will rain down on all that you have created. No one will be spared .’”
    The county attorney carefully adjusted his black glasses, then steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “I see you’ve been reading the newspaper.”
    Chris nodded.
    “Yes, we’re investigating this man who calls himself Aquarius,” Altman said, “but we don’t know if he represents any actual threat.”
    “Whoever he is, he obviously has a bitter grudge against Florian.”
    “So what are you suggesting? Aquarius followed Florian’s daughter and killed her?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe he did. Can you rule it out?”
    Altman shook his head. “Mr. Hawk, I know you want to help your daughter, but you can best do that by focusing on your legal strategy, not by putting on rose-colored glasses about her innocence. Right now, a good lawyer would be thinking about ways to make a jury sympathize with what she did, not dreaming up far-fetched conspiracy theories.”
    “Olivia didn’t do it,” Chris said.
    Altman spread his hands in resignation. “Fine. It’s your call.”
    “I’d like to review everything the police have gathered so far in this case. Is that going to be a problem?”
    “No, I’ll make sure we get copies in your hands promptly.” Altman added, “Perhaps that will open your eyes.”
    Chris ignored the jab. “There’s a detention hearing tomorrow morning.
    Where do you stand on that?”
    “I have to oppose, even though I’m not likely to win. Olivia doesn’t have a criminal history, but there’s a real threat of more violence if she’s released.”
    “She’s not going to harm anyone, Mr. Altman,” Chris said. “You know that.”
    “Actually, I’m thinking of her own safety. You should be, too.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Michael Altman frowned. “I mean, if she’s free, she’s in danger. That’s the reality in this county right now, Mr. Hawk. The safest place for your daughter may be in jail.”

4
    C HRIS HAD LAST VISITED THE TOWN OF S T. C ROIX FOUR YEARS EARLIER, when Hannah’s mother passed away at the age of seventy-two. He thought of it as a place where kids were born, grew up, moved away, and never came back. The old-timers were the only people who stayed, living out long lives among the harsh Minnesota seasons and eventually emptying the town one by one. As the years passed, the population of the church cemetery outpaced the houses and farms.
    They were dying faster in St. Croix now. Faster and younger.
    He drove south on the highway out of Barron, tracking the banks of the Spirit River. Five miles later, the road turned east and followed a narrow stream for several more miles before heading south again toward Iowa. It was easy to miss St. Croix along the highway. Several miles from the split at the river, the speed limit dropped to thirty miles an hour, and he turned left into the tic-tac-toe grid of town streets. He could see the white bell tower of the Lutheran church jutting above the roofs of the houses. The wide blocks were empty. It was dusk, and the four hundred residents of St. Croix were saying grace and eating dinner.
    His ex-wife’s maiden name was Grohman. Hannah Grohman, daughter of Josephine and Cornelius Grohman. She’d kept the name Hawk after the divorce because she said