your cars. We really appreciate your help, but the police
will take over from here.”
Her first concern was footprints, but if Sebastian—or anyone connected with his death—left
some in the immediate area around the body, most of them had probably already been
disturbed or destroyed, given all those who had helped move the pumpkins and uncover
the body. Still, there was no point making it worse. She took several steps back herself,
pulling T.J. with her. He came away uneasily, as if reluctant to leave the body behind.
Candy knew exactly how he felt, but for the moment, she did her best to detach herself
from her emotions and focused her gaze on the corpse of Sebastian J. Quinn. She noticed
several things right away. He was wearing brown slacks, a white shirt, and a dark
jacket, all soiled and spotted with clumps of dirt and vegetation. Seeping through
his shirt, just at the edge of the jacket’s right lapel, she could see a dark spot,
maybe two—possibly bullet wounds, she thought.
That seemed to confirm Maggie’s suspicion that Sebastian had been murdered.
But how had he wound up buried under a pile of pumpkins? And what had he been doing
out here in the first place?
Candy also noticed that he still clenched a flashlight tightly in his left fist. The
flashlight was either turned off or the batteries had died out.
That might be a clue to his time of death,
she thought. She guessed that he must have been killed sometime during the night—otherwise
why would he have a flashlight with him?
If he’d been shot out here and buried under the pile of pumpkins, how long would it
have taken for the flashlightbatteries to die out?
she wondered.
That could help establish a more precise time of death, couldn’t it?
Her gaze swept the body again. She noticed the outline of a cell phone in Sebastian’s
front pocket, so whatever had happened, he didn’t have time to call for help.
And then there were the car keys clutched in his right fist, held so that several
of the keys protruded from between his fingers, looking like shorter versions of Wolverine’s
claws. Why the heck had he held them like that?
She looked up, scanning the area. She noticed nothing more out of sorts than a stray
pitchfork stuck into a pumpkin not too far away.
Hadn’t that been part of one of the displays? The one with the ghostly couple? How
that got there, she had no idea.
Perhaps Sebastian had moved it.
Or someone else.
“What are you thinking?” T.J. asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She looked over at him. He was watching her closely.
With a gentle shake of her head, she turned back to the body and pointed. “Something’s
not right about this.”
“What do you mean?”
But Candy wasn’t quite sure. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she sensed something
odd about the body, as if it were trying to tell her something—as if it had been arranged
that way.
She turned, her gaze shifting out toward the surrounding fields and woods. “I’m going
to have a look around,” she said to T.J., and on an impulse started off toward the
far end of High Field.
“Need some company?” he called after her, a trace of concern in his tone.
Turning, she walked backward as she spoke. “It’d probably be best if you stayed by
the body—to keep people away and make sure no one else disturbs the scene.” When she
saw his skeptical look, she managed a weak smile andadded, “I’ll be okay. I just want to check something out. I’ll be right back.”
With that, she turned forward again and walked toward the distant trees.
As much as she hated to admit it, she did have experience with these sorts of things—probably
more than anyone else in town, except for a few folks in the police department—and
maybe Finn Woodbury, a local friend who had once been a big-city cop. Over the course
of the past few years, Candy had somehow tracked down and exposed several murderers
in town,
will take over from here.”
Her first concern was footprints, but if Sebastian—or anyone connected with his death—left
some in the immediate area around the body, most of them had probably already been
disturbed or destroyed, given all those who had helped move the pumpkins and uncover
the body. Still, there was no point making it worse. She took several steps back herself,
pulling T.J. with her. He came away uneasily, as if reluctant to leave the body behind.
Candy knew exactly how he felt, but for the moment, she did her best to detach herself
from her emotions and focused her gaze on the corpse of Sebastian J. Quinn. She noticed
several things right away. He was wearing brown slacks, a white shirt, and a dark
jacket, all soiled and spotted with clumps of dirt and vegetation. Seeping through
his shirt, just at the edge of the jacket’s right lapel, she could see a dark spot,
maybe two—possibly bullet wounds, she thought.
That seemed to confirm Maggie’s suspicion that Sebastian had been murdered.
But how had he wound up buried under a pile of pumpkins? And what had he been doing
out here in the first place?
Candy also noticed that he still clenched a flashlight tightly in his left fist. The
flashlight was either turned off or the batteries had died out.
That might be a clue to his time of death,
she thought. She guessed that he must have been killed sometime during the night—otherwise
why would he have a flashlight with him?
If he’d been shot out here and buried under the pile of pumpkins, how long would it
have taken for the flashlightbatteries to die out?
she wondered.
That could help establish a more precise time of death, couldn’t it?
Her gaze swept the body again. She noticed the outline of a cell phone in Sebastian’s
front pocket, so whatever had happened, he didn’t have time to call for help.
And then there were the car keys clutched in his right fist, held so that several
of the keys protruded from between his fingers, looking like shorter versions of Wolverine’s
claws. Why the heck had he held them like that?
She looked up, scanning the area. She noticed nothing more out of sorts than a stray
pitchfork stuck into a pumpkin not too far away.
Hadn’t that been part of one of the displays? The one with the ghostly couple? How
that got there, she had no idea.
Perhaps Sebastian had moved it.
Or someone else.
“What are you thinking?” T.J. asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She looked over at him. He was watching her closely.
With a gentle shake of her head, she turned back to the body and pointed. “Something’s
not right about this.”
“What do you mean?”
But Candy wasn’t quite sure. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she sensed something
odd about the body, as if it were trying to tell her something—as if it had been arranged
that way.
She turned, her gaze shifting out toward the surrounding fields and woods. “I’m going
to have a look around,” she said to T.J., and on an impulse started off toward the
far end of High Field.
“Need some company?” he called after her, a trace of concern in his tone.
Turning, she walked backward as she spoke. “It’d probably be best if you stayed by
the body—to keep people away and make sure no one else disturbs the scene.” When she
saw his skeptical look, she managed a weak smile andadded, “I’ll be okay. I just want to check something out. I’ll be right back.”
With that, she turned forward again and walked toward the distant trees.
As much as she hated to admit it, she did have experience with these sorts of things—probably
more than anyone else in town, except for a few folks in the police department—and
maybe Finn Woodbury, a local friend who had once been a big-city cop. Over the course
of the past few years, Candy had somehow tracked down and exposed several murderers
in town,
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