"No, actually we're looking for someone."

Her face instantly closed down. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, all we have is a post office box and we really need to talk to this person." I smiled my friendliest, most disarming smile. "I promise, we're not process servers."

She gave a small smile. "Who're you looking for?"

"Eva Knoll."

Her face definitely took on a cool demeanor. "Why?"

"Just want to ask her some questions."

She jerked her head over to the fire station, her friendliness gone. "Might be better if you talked to Lukie. She knows Eva best."

"Lukie?"

"She's the fire captain. Closest thing we have to the law out here. Talk to her." A few feet away a faded green Chevy pickup pulled into the gravel parking lot. Five children under ten scrambled out of the bed and ran toward the small door marked LIBRARY. She waved at them. "My public beckons. Nice shooting the breeze with you. Tell Wade hey from Riccarla if you ever see him again."

Behind me, Detective Hudson gave a mocking chuckle. "A half hour of playing 'six degrees of separation' and she tells you to talk to the fire captain. Very impressive interviewing. I was taking notes the whole time."

I turned around and, without a word, punched him hard on the arm.

"Hey, hitting a cop is against the law," he said, rubbing the spot.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's go see the fire captain."

"Are you going to let me do the talking this time?"

"No, I still still know these people better than you." know these people better than you."

"Fine, screw up our only chance to find this old woman."

"I'm not going to screw it up."

Inside the sparsely furnished fire station office, it took three minutes to get from the fire captain, a tanned, athletic-looking woman dressed in the neat, green uniform of the Forestry service, that yes, she did know Eva Knoll, and no, she wouldn't tell us where she lived.

Behind me, Detective Hudson started to say something. I turned around and held up my hand for him to keep quiet. He glared at me. I glared back.

"Why not?" I asked her. "Like I said, we don't want to hurt her or anything. We just want to ask her some questions. Riccarla can vouch for my identity and integrity." I decided to pull out what I hoped was my ace in the hole. "I'm married to San Celina's police chief."

"You're Gabe Ortiz's wife? He's a nice guy. Talked to him about old Chevys a while back at a Chamber of Commerce thing. He said he's restoring his son's Malibu. Sixty-five, I think it was."

"Yeah, Gabe loves old cars. We have a restored 1950 Chevy pickup. Original interior. His dad bought it in Wichita, Kansas, the same year Gabe was born."

"Cool," she said, nodding appreciatively.

"About Eva Knoll . . ."

"I'm sorry, but I just can't."

"But, honestly, we won't hurt her. We just want to ask her some questions."

A deep crevice formed between the woman's clear blue eyes. "I'm not questioning your identity or integrity and I'm sure you're a very nice person, but things are different out here. Our motto is 'Don't ask, don't tell.' Folks move out here because they don't want to be bothered by people, and we try to accommodate them. Sometimes it's for illegal reasons. I'm not saying we don't have our share of drug labs, but most times it's just that they want to be left alone. We're a tight group. We look out for each other because we have to. If we called the Sheriff's Department it would take an officer over an hour to get out here. That makes us pretty independent and self-sufficient. Eva's our oldest citizen, and we all feel real protective about her. I can give her a message, and if she wants to get back to you, then it's her choice."

"But it's very important I talk to her as soon as possible. It's a long drive out here. Does she have a phone? Can you call her?"

Lukie hesitated for a moment, then said, "Sure, I'll try."

She punched the number in and waited. "There's no answer. Guess she's out back in her greenhouse. She can't hear the phone out there. Like I said, I'll give her your number."

I bit my lip in frustration. "Isn't there any way I can convince you to tell me where she lives?"

"Like I said we feel real protective of Eva."

"Please, if I..."

Her eyes widened slightly as she peered over my shoulder. "Well, that would do it. Let me write down her address for you." She turned back to her gray metal desk and started hunting through a Rolodex.

I whipped around to look at Detective Hudson. He was holding up his badge and wearing a smug grin.

"Smart-ass," I muttered.

"Now, now," he said, patting me on the shoulder. "Let's not be a sore loser."

After the captain showed us on the huge wall map where Eva Knoll's house was, she said, "Please be careful. Eva's very fragile these days."

"I promise," I said, glancing over at Detective Hudson, who was expressionless, "we will do our very best not to upset her."

"WE'D HAVE THIS interview done and eating lunch back in San Celina if I'd done that sooner," he said.

"Oh, pipe down," I said halfheartedly, staring out the window. At the side of the road a gray pronghorn antelope, its stomach open and raw, sat waiting for the elements to clean it to bones. No animal control officer out here to shovel up death and dispose of it neatly. "And I meant what I said to the fire captain. If Eva Knoll shows any signs of getting upset, I'm going to stop you."

He just shook his head and started humming the Dwight Yoakam song "A Thousand Miles from Nowhere..."

It took us forty-five minutes to find her place. For a little while we drove along the edge of Soda Lake. A silvery-white layer of water glimmered, miragelike, across the flat lake. The surrounding prairie mounds covered with bunch-grass were mirrored perfectly in the lake's glassy surface.

"Read somewhere that was an alkaline lake," the detective said.

I nodded. "Usually it's dry this time of year, but we had a rainy summer. In the winter, you should see the sandhill cranes. It's quite a sight."

Eva Knoll's house sat at the end of a half-mile dirt road. With only a lone cottonwood for shade, the tiny slat-board house and the occupant seemed defenseless against the frightening expanse of prairie. When we pulled up, a huge rottweiler mix bounded off the front porch, its large, powerful teeth bared. The dog jumped against the side of the detective's truck, its claws scraping down the passenger door with a sound like chalk on blackboard. I instinctively scooted across the seat away from the growling dog.

"He's scratchin' the paint!" Detective Hudson cried. "Dang it all, this is a custom job!" He leaned over me to pound flat-handed on the window. "Get back, you sorry piece of taco meat!"

"Maybe you should get out and stop him," I said, pressing myself against the seat and laughing.

The look on his face could have melted cheese. "You wouldn't be laughing if it were your truck he was clawin'."

"You're right," I said cheerfully, then instinctively jerked back against him when the dog hit the side of the truck again. I cracked my window and called to the woman standing in the porch's shadows. "Mrs. Knoll? Mrs. Eva Knoll?"

"Who wants to know?" her cracked voice called back.

"Benni Harper."

"Okay, then, come on out. Lukie called about you."

She moved out of the shadows, dressed in a flowered housedress and holding a double-barrel shotgun. So much for Mrs. Knoll's vulnerability. I eyed the growling dog, then called back. "Uh, could you call off your dog?"

"Heidi, come on, girl. These people won't hurt you." The dog turned and trotted back to Mrs. Knoll on the porch.

I laughed at Detective Hudson's stunned face. "She does kind of favor your girlfriend around the muzzle, don't you think?"

"Let's get this done," he said stiffly, opening his door and walking around the passenger side. The shredded paint caused a deep moan to erupt from his chest.

"Oh, cowboy up, city slicker," I said. "Better your door than your face."

Though the dog sat quietly next to the old woman, we were hesitant as we walked up to the shadowed porch. After a short introduction and a minute of letting Heidi sniff our hands, she rolled over and exposed her pale brown stomach, begging for a scratch.

"You're just an old fake, aren't you, girl?" I said, rubbing her muscled stomach. Detective Hudson stood a foot or so back, glancing over at his truck's ravaged door, still annoyed at the dog's disregard for his paint job.

"Oh, she can take a hunk out of you," Mrs. Knoll said. "Don't doubt it."

I straightened up and held out my hand. "I'm Benni Harper. You said Lukie called?"

Mrs. Knoll nodded, her short, white hair wispy about her dried-apricot face. Her handshake was firm and direct, like that of a young woman. "Said you needed to ask me some questions."

"Yes, if you don't mind."

She set her shotgun down on the corner of the porch. "Don't reckon I have much anyone wants to know."

"It's about Rose Brown," I said.

Her old face seemed to sink further into itself, and she stared out over my shoulder at something in the distance. She seemed lost for a moment in the past. She turned her ghost-lit eyes on me. "He the lawman Lukie was talking about?" she asked, nodding over at a silent Detective Hudson.

"Yes, he's with the Sheriff's Department."

"I don't have any use for the law. Won't talk to him. It's you or nothing."

I turned to look at Detective Hudson, raising my eyebrows in silent question.

He threw his hands up in frustration. "I give up."

"Come inside," she said to me. "You." She pointed at the detective. "Go sit in your truck. Sound travels around here, and this ain't none of your business what I got to say." The wooden screen door slammed shut behind her. Heidi remained on the porch, panting and watching me and Detective Hudson.

"I'm not sitting in my truck," he said. "I'm the one with authority here. If that batty old woman thinks..."

I put a finger over my lips. "You want to blow this just because of your overinflated ego? She's agreed to talk to me me, so just humor her and go sit in your truck."

Looking as if he'd like to take a bite out of someone's leg, he stomped back to his truck.

Inside the cramped house filled with the accumulation of a lifetime of possessions, Mrs. Knoll was already sitting in a ratty blue velour armchair with beige doilies on the arms. Heidi had followed me into the house and settled in what was obviously her accustomed spot in front of a fireplace filled with charred bits of wood.

"Over there." Mrs. Knoll pointed with a spindly finger to a Victorian sofa across from her. I moved a pile of ancient Life Life magazines and sat down. magazines and sat down.

"Sorry for the clutter," she said. "I don't get many visitors." We sat there for a long, silent moment. Finally I said, "Mrs. Knoll, I have some questions about the years you worked with Rose Brown out at Seven Sisters ranch."

"That was a long time ago, young woman," she said, her thin arms resting quiet and still on the chair's lacy arms.

"Yes, it was. But there's been some... trouble out there recently, and Detective Hudson and I think it might have something to do with what happened back then."

"What kind of trouble?"

I quickly told her about Giles's death and the circumstances behind it. Her face never changed expression.

When I finished, she took some time to answer. The ticking of a large grandfather clock next to the door reminded me that an impatient Detective Hudson was fuming outside.

"Do you know . . . ?" I started.

She held up her hand. "That family will haunt me till I die. That's the plain truth of it."

"How?" I asked, hoping to get her started talking.

She gestured over at the table next to me. "See that picture?"

I picked up the round, copper frame and looked at the black-and-white photograph of a young boy sitting in the lap of an older woman who bore a striking resemblance to Mrs. Knoll. The boy appeared to be about two years old, and I recognized the facial features of a Down's syndrome child.

"That's my boy and my mother," she said. "He wasn't normal. Guess you can tell that. He had the best care, though. His whole life he did. Even when he got the cancer in his bowels. Had the best care. Private nurses. Big pretty headstone when the angels finally took him home. All because I kept quiet." She reached down and stroked Heidi's huge head, causing the dog to sigh deeply. "But now, I reckon there's no reason anymore. I'm old. I've been wanting to tell someone. You look like a nice young lady. Do you have any children?"

"No," I said. "No, I don't."

"Well, I'll tell you. You'll do anything for your kids. Leastwise, most folks would. Oh, you make your mistakes, all right. Maybe you're too easy or too hard. But most folks do their best. They try try. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I think so."

"There's those, though, that just defy everything God ever intended. You want to believe they have a soul, but you can't imagine, can't imagine on this earth, why they do what they do. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded and didn't answer.

Then she told me a story that would darken a piece of my heart until the day I died.