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“Pussy,” said Schuler.

“It was worth a try. The question stands.”

Schuler walked to the Dodge, where the two girls sat huddled in their coats, looking miserable. Schuler opened the passenger door and Paris whined: “You going to give us our keys back? It’s cold.”

Schuler held out a hand.

“No. Driver’s licenses, both of you.”

The girls surrendered their licenses, which Schuler photographed with her cell phone before returning them.

“You move from that car,” said Schuler, “and I’ll personally make you wish you’d died in the womb.”

“What if whoever killed that guy is still around?” asked Britney, which Schuler had to admit wasn’t an unreasonable question.

“All the more reason to stay in the car.” Schuler pointed to the southeast, where more lights were scouring the night. “But they’ll be with you in a matter of minutes.”

“We could be dead in a matter of minutes,” said Paris.

“Then you’ll get fired,” said Britney. “And sued.”

“Jesus,” said Schuler. “Fine, we’ll stay until they get here.”

They waited until a fourth car arrived, which disgorged a deputy named Eustace Ferris, known to his colleagues as Useless Ferris, even to his face. Useless Ferris’s portrait could have been used to illustrate the wordtimeserverin a picture dictionary.

“You’re the babysitter, Useless,” Schuler told him, jerking a thumb at the Dodge.

“Better than being shot at by Dolfes,” said Useless, but he was already speaking to Schuler’s back. Wen followed after, leaving only Negus. He’d gone to his car to get the shotgun. In his experience, the sight of a big pump-action was useful for focusing attention and calming unrest.

“Don’t you object to being called ‘Useless’?” asked Negus.

“I’ve been hearing it since high school. I don’t much notice anymore.”

Negus turned away.

“I would,” he said.

“That’s because you’re sensitive,” said Useless, unwrapping a stick of gum. “If you get killed up there, I’ll make sure it’s mentioned in the eulogy.”

CHAPTERXLVIII

The three sheriff’s deputies came within sight of the old horse barn, sheltered by a hill to the north. Although it hadn’t received a coat of paint or preservative in many years, it remained structurally sound with an intact roof. A lot of these older barns were being renovated as houses, rental properties for tourists, wineries—and even wedding venues, Wen and his fiancée having visited a few. Unfortunately, it would be some time before anyone decided to exchange their vows in this one if the girls were telling the truth about what they’d discovered.

Beside Wen, Schuler gazed to the west, and the boundary with the Dolfe homestead.

“What is it?” asked Negus.

“Men’s voices, but still a ways off.”

“Might not be anything to do with us. It’s not as if we sent up a flare.”

“The Dolfes won’t need an invitation. They’ve been in Loudoun so long they can probably hear the grass grow.”

“Fuck them if they do come,” said Negus. “We’re law enforcement investigating a probable homicide.”

“I’m with you on most of that,” said Schuler, “but I’ll let you be the one to tell them.”

Wen raised a hand, urging silence. The barn had a pair of sliding doors on its southern side. These were closed, but a side door waspartway open. While the girls had only seen what appeared to be a dead man, it didn’t mean that whoever was responsible for making him that way was absent from the vicinity. The deputies padded slowly toward the door, Wen and Schuler from the west, Negus from the east, pausing only to allow Schuler to conduct a quick circuit of the building to check the rear. They kept their distance from the sides of the barn and tried to make the least noise possible. While the timbers looked solid, a shotgun or rifle could blow a hole right through them, along with anyone who happened to be standing on the other side at the time. Once they were in position, Wen identified himself as an armed sheriff’s deputy and instructed anyone inside to make themselves known and lie down on the floor with their arms outstretched. All he received in return was silence.