profitable.”
“Was Mark behind this idea?”
She snorted. “Mark’s big idea was to make a gluten-free wine.”
Justin was the first to admit that he knew very little about wine—or gluten—so he didn’t feel stupid asking, “Is there really gluten in wine?”
“Not in the grapes, but some wineries, mostly in Europe, use a flour paste to seal the oak barrels, and some filters through when they fine the wine.”
“Fine?”
“It’s the part of the clarification process when they filter the juice. Oh, sure, there’s not enough gluten to make a difference, but Mark was pretty good at marketing and he charged an extra dollar per bottle for gluten-free.”
“Are you still making it?”
“No. For the first year after he disappeared, I was all about ‘What would Mark do?’ Then, after some seminars and vintner courses, I phased it out. Mark thought he was putting something over on people, but it cost us more than a dollar a bottle to separate it from the rest and make sure no flour touched it. Just another example of him trying to make an easy buck without having done the legwork to see the bigger picture.”
“Is gluten a big issue with wine?”
“Not really. Even processed normally, the amount of gluten is well below the recommended limit. I’d rather let a person make the choice knowing their own sensitivity to gluten than to go to all the effort to make sure there’s no trace.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“What really turned us around was the restaurant, the gift shop, and the special events. Our wine sales are up 350 percent.”
Justin grinned and tipped the brim of his hat to her. “Kudos.”
“Thanks. It’s taken a lot of hard work, but we’re doing well.”
A glance at the sun dropping lower in the sky reminded him why he was here. “Do you still want to see the site?”
Lori nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded stiffly. “Yes. Show me.”
Justin took the lead and drove to the back of the property. He parked his ATV and turned it off.
The yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze, and Lori held back, waiting for Justin to climb over the split-rail fence first. He held out his hand, and she took it, accepting his help to get to the other side. Her fingers tightened around his, and once she was standing next to him, he realized he didn’t want to let go. But standing next to a grave with the widow while he was getting a hard-on from her touch struck him as unprofessional, and he pulled his hand away.
They walked through the weeds to a rectangular area in the debris and dirt. Some of the brush pile remained, pushed off to the side after the crime lab technicians had gone through it with a fine-toothed comb, searching for every thread of evidence.
“They found his remains right there,” Justin said as he pointed to the exact spot on the ground.
“What the fuck was he doing out here?” she muttered under her breath.
Justin studied her closely, and at that moment he was convinced that she had no idea that her husband had been dead all these years. In spite of all the pain and disappointment in their marriage, it was clear that she was shaken by the reality of the moment. She took a step sideways until their arms were pressed together, as if she needed the comfort of another human being. He had to push back the impulse to take her into his arms and hold her, to share his strength with her. He swallowed, trying to distract himself so he could properly do his job.
“Was he just laying out here?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Justin hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t reveal details about the case, details only the murderer would know, but he couldn’t deny wanting to help Lori deal with the goriness of the case. “No, he’d been buried in a shallow grave, and there was a huge pile of mesquite trees, cactus, and brush that someone had pushed on top of it.”
Lori’s eyes suddenly widened. “I’ll bet that came from my property. I hired a company to clear the land so I
“Was Mark behind this idea?”
She snorted. “Mark’s big idea was to make a gluten-free wine.”
Justin was the first to admit that he knew very little about wine—or gluten—so he didn’t feel stupid asking, “Is there really gluten in wine?”
“Not in the grapes, but some wineries, mostly in Europe, use a flour paste to seal the oak barrels, and some filters through when they fine the wine.”
“Fine?”
“It’s the part of the clarification process when they filter the juice. Oh, sure, there’s not enough gluten to make a difference, but Mark was pretty good at marketing and he charged an extra dollar per bottle for gluten-free.”
“Are you still making it?”
“No. For the first year after he disappeared, I was all about ‘What would Mark do?’ Then, after some seminars and vintner courses, I phased it out. Mark thought he was putting something over on people, but it cost us more than a dollar a bottle to separate it from the rest and make sure no flour touched it. Just another example of him trying to make an easy buck without having done the legwork to see the bigger picture.”
“Is gluten a big issue with wine?”
“Not really. Even processed normally, the amount of gluten is well below the recommended limit. I’d rather let a person make the choice knowing their own sensitivity to gluten than to go to all the effort to make sure there’s no trace.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“What really turned us around was the restaurant, the gift shop, and the special events. Our wine sales are up 350 percent.”
Justin grinned and tipped the brim of his hat to her. “Kudos.”
“Thanks. It’s taken a lot of hard work, but we’re doing well.”
A glance at the sun dropping lower in the sky reminded him why he was here. “Do you still want to see the site?”
Lori nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded stiffly. “Yes. Show me.”
Justin took the lead and drove to the back of the property. He parked his ATV and turned it off.
The yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze, and Lori held back, waiting for Justin to climb over the split-rail fence first. He held out his hand, and she took it, accepting his help to get to the other side. Her fingers tightened around his, and once she was standing next to him, he realized he didn’t want to let go. But standing next to a grave with the widow while he was getting a hard-on from her touch struck him as unprofessional, and he pulled his hand away.
They walked through the weeds to a rectangular area in the debris and dirt. Some of the brush pile remained, pushed off to the side after the crime lab technicians had gone through it with a fine-toothed comb, searching for every thread of evidence.
“They found his remains right there,” Justin said as he pointed to the exact spot on the ground.
“What the fuck was he doing out here?” she muttered under her breath.
Justin studied her closely, and at that moment he was convinced that she had no idea that her husband had been dead all these years. In spite of all the pain and disappointment in their marriage, it was clear that she was shaken by the reality of the moment. She took a step sideways until their arms were pressed together, as if she needed the comfort of another human being. He had to push back the impulse to take her into his arms and hold her, to share his strength with her. He swallowed, trying to distract himself so he could properly do his job.
“Was he just laying out here?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Justin hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t reveal details about the case, details only the murderer would know, but he couldn’t deny wanting to help Lori deal with the goriness of the case. “No, he’d been buried in a shallow grave, and there was a huge pile of mesquite trees, cactus, and brush that someone had pushed on top of it.”
Lori’s eyes suddenly widened. “I’ll bet that came from my property. I hired a company to clear the land so I
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