Grave Sight by Charlaine Harris Page B

out to the cemetery?” I was trying to make sense of this flow of thoughts.
    â€œYes. He come by yesterday, the first time I’ve talked to him in a long time. He told me that you said Sally had been killed, that it wasn’t no accident.” I saw Tolliver stiffen. He shot me a look. He didn’t like me going off with someone, he didn’t like me doing freebies, and he didn’t like me not telling him everything.
    â€œHow do you do it?” she asked. “How can you tell? How can I trust you?”
    These were all good questions, questions I’d been asked before.
    â€œYou don’t have to believe a thing I say,” I told Helen Hopkins. “I see what I see.”
    â€œYou think God gave you this gift? Or the devil?”
    I wasn’t about to tell this woman what I really thought. “You believe what you want,” I said.
    â€œI believe that you saw both my daughters get murdered,” Helen Hopkins said. Her huge brown eyes seemed to get even bigger and rounder. “I believe God sent you to find out who did this to them.”
    â€œNo,” I said immediately. “I am not a lie detector. I can find bodies. I can tell what killed ’em. But who, or why, that’s beyond me.”
    â€œHow did they die?”
    â€œYou don’t want to hear this,” Tolliver said.
    â€œShut up, mister. This is my right.”
    She was little, but persistent. Like a mosquito, I thought.
    â€œYour daughter Sally was drowned in her bathtub. Shewas grabbed by the ankles, so that her head went under the water. Your daughter Teenie was shot in the back.”
    All the strength seeped out of Helen Hopkins as we watched.
    â€œMy poor girls,” she said. “My poor girls.”
    She looked over at us, without really seeing us. “I thank you for coming,” she said stiffly. “I thank you. I’m in your debt. I’ll tell the girls’ fathers what you’ve said.”
    Tolliver and I got up. Helen didn’t speak again.
    â€œNow we leave,” Tolliver said, when we were outside. And after we stopped by the bank to cash Sybil Teague’s check, we got in our car and drove south out of Sarne.
    We pulled into our motel in Ashdown a few silent hours later. Tolliver sat in the chair in my room after we’d eaten supper, and I perched on the foot of the bed.
    â€œTell me about going out with the trooper,” he said. His voice was mild, but I knew that was deceptive. I’d been waiting for that shoe to drop all day.
    â€œHe came by while you were gone flirting with that waitress,” I said. “He wanted me to take a ride with him.” Tolliver snorted, but I decided to ignore that. “Anyway, he talked, and he talked, and we got a milk shake, and then I realized that he just wanted to take me out to the cemetery and get me to tell him what happened to his wife.”
    I could hardly bear to look at Tolliver’s face, but I sneaked a peek. To my relief, he wasn’t full of anger. He hated it when people took advantage of me, and he hated it more when the person was a man. But he didn’t want me to feel bad, either.
    â€œDon’t you think he liked what he saw, and that’s why he came by the motel?”
    I ducked my head. Tolliver’s hand smoothed my hair.
    â€œNo,” I said. “I think all along he planned on getting me there to his wife’s grave. I told him I had to be paid, Tolliver. So he took me by the bank and got the money.” I didn’t tell Tolliver it hadn’t been the full amount. “But I left it in the truck, because I felt so bad about the whole thing.” Bad and mad and guilty and hurt.
    â€œYou did the right thing,” he said, at last. “Next time, don’t go anywhere without telling me, okay?”
    â€œYou going to follow me?” I asked, feeling a little spark of anger. “What should I do when you go off without me ? Make the woman