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talk with him. But I have to tell you, I don’t know about a skeleton in a tree. That just sounds crazy. Are you sure?”
    “I’m a forensic anthropologist,” she said.
    “Yeah, I know, but . . . Anyway, we’ll see what ol’ Slick has to say for himself.”
    Diane told him about the trek through the woods and about meeting the stranger. Deputy Conrad’s attention perked up.
    “There’s some stranger running around in the woods, taking pictures, you say?”
    “He said he was camping in the national forest. I think he was the one who called you. I asked him to. He offered to take me to the sheriff, but I declined.”
    “That was probably wise. So, do you think this guy could have been the killer?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. He was helpful. Gave me this rain gear,” she said, indicating the poncho. “He took my jacket to try to fool the dogs. He knew they were Walker hounds. He said his uncle raised them. He said he recognized the voices.”
    “They do have a twang to their bark, that’s for sure,” he said.
    When the other deputies drove up, Deputy Conrad stood up to meet them. Two men got out of a Jeep that looked much like Conrad’s. He introduced them as Jason and Bob. Jason was a slender man and, although he looked to be in his mid-twenties, had severely thinning hair. Bob, older by ten or fifteen years, had a thick head of dark hair, was cadaverously thin, and had a slight kyphosis of the spine that gave him a permanent slouch. Diane wondered if his hair was a wig.
    “What’s this about, Travis?” asked Jason.
    “Roy and his wife’s been murdered,” said Conrad.
    “What? Murdered? No. We just saw him. You and me, at the Waffle House, yesterday.”
    Bob looked over at the house. “Murdered? Here? The two of them?”
    “Look, I want the two of you to guard the house until I get back. I’m taking Miss Fallon to get her car and find out what’s up with Slick Massey,” said Deputy Conrad.
    “You want us to guard the house?” said Bob. “From what?”
    “Trespassers, murderers, raccoons—anything. We don’t want anybody coming in. We especially don’t want Roy Jr. to decide to pay his folks a midnight visit and find them. Now do what I say. And don’t you go sitting in their den watching TV while they’re sitting at the dining room table with their throats cut,” said Conrad.
    “We wouldn’t do that,” said Jason, looking hurt.
    “Throats cut?” said Bob. “Somebody’s done cut their throats? I don’t know, Travis. What if they come back?” Bob put a hand to his own throat.
    “Then you arrest the son of a bitch. It’s what you get paid for. I’ll be back in a little bit.” Travis Conrad turned to Diane. “Now let’s go see Slick Massey.”

Chapter 6
    Diane shuddered at the thought of facing Slick Massey again. She tried to calm herself as she and Deputy Conrad walked to his Jeep and climbed in. Diane looked back at the Barre house. She saw the deputies sitting on the porch with flashlights trained out to the front yard. She wanted to ask Conrad if his deputies would be okay there by themselves, but thought better of it. Instead, she approached another, more controversial topic.
    “You know,” she began, “this is the kind of crime the Georgia Bureau of Investigation can be a big help with.”
    “We’re gonna have to call the GBI. Daddy’s gonna balk, but we ain’t had no killings like this. We’ve had wife killings and bar killings—the kind of homicide you don’t have to work up a sweat to solve—the kind where we know the guy who did it and where to find him.” He shook his head. “But this is the kind of thing you see on crime shows. We just ain’t had nothing like this here. You saw Jason and Bob. They’re good guys and they mean well, but . . .” He shook his head. “Bob mainly does the paperwork, and Jason, well, he’s Jason.”
    He paused and Diane didn’t say anything—relieved that he was open to getting outside help. She wanted the