The Body Farm. Patricia Cornwell

“Certainly Marino has gotten very involved. The case is terribly consuming,” I lamely said.

“Mrs. Steiner can’t think of much else, not that I blame her a bit. If it was me, I reckon I’d put everything I got into it, too.”

“What has she put into it?” I said.

“She’s got a lot of money,” Mote said.

“I wondered about that. ” I thought of her car.

“She’s done a lot to help in this investigation.”

“Help?” I asked.

“In what way, exactly?”

“Cars. Like the one Pete’s driving, for example. Someone’s got to pay for all that.”

“I thought those things were donated by area merchants.”

“Now, I will have to say that what Mrs. Steiner’s done has inspired others to pitch in. She’s got this whole area thinking about this case and feeling for her, and not a soul wants someone else’s child to suffer the same thing.

“It’s really like nothing I’ve ever seen in my twenty- two years of police work. But then, I have to say I’ve never seen a case like this to begin with.”

“Did she actually pay for the car I’m driving?” It required great restraint on my part not to raise my voice or seem anything but calm.

“She donated both cars and some other business people have kicked in the other things. Lights, radios, scanners.”

“Detective Mote,” I said, “how much money has Mrs. Steiner given to your department?”

“I reckon close to fifty.”

“Fifty?” I looked at him in disbelief.

“Fifty thousand dollars?”

“That’s right.”

“And no one has a problem with that?”

“Far as I’m concerned, it’s no different than the power company donating a car to us some years back because there’s a transformer they want us to keep an eye on. And the Quick Stops and 7-Elevens give us coffee so we’ll come in all hours. It’s all about people helping us to help them. It works fine as long as nobody tries to take advantage.” His eyes were steady on me, his hands still on top of the covers. “} guess in a big city like Richmond you got more rules.”

“Any gift to the Richmond Police Department that is over twenty-five hundred dollars has to be approved by an O and R,” I said.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“An Ordinance and Resolution, which has to be brought before the city council.”

“Sounds mighty complicated.”

“And it should be, for obvious reasons.”

“Well, sure,” Mote said, and mainly he just sounded weary and worn down by the revelation that his body was not to be trusted anymore.

“Can you tell me just what this fifty thousand dollars is to be used for, besides acquiring several additional cars?” I asked.

“We need a chief of police. I was pretty much the whole enchilada, and it don’t look too good for me at this point, to be honest. And even if I can go back to some sort of light duty, it’s time the town has someone with experience in charge. Things aren’t the way they used to be.”

“I see,” I commented, and the reality of what was happening was clarifying in a very disturbing way.

“I should let you get some rest.”

“I’m mighty glad you came by.” He squeezed my hand so hard I was in pain, and I sensed a deep despair he probably could not have explained were he completely conscious of it. To almost die is to know that one day you will, and to never again feel the same about anything.

Before I returned to the Travel-Eze, I drove to the Montreal gate, went through it, and turned around. I went back out the other side as I tried to think what to do. There was very little traffic, and when I pulled off on the shoulder and stopped for a bit, people passing me probably assumed I was but one more tourist who was lost or looking for Billy Graham’s house. From where I was parked, I had a perfect view of Creed Lindsey’s neighborhood. In fact, I could see his house and its old boxy white washing machine on the porch.

Rainbow Mountain must have been named on an October afternoon like this one. Leaves were varying intensities of red, orange, and yellow that were fiery in the sun and rich in the shade, and shadows crept deeper into clefts and valleys as the sun settled lower. In another hour light would be gone. I might not have decided to drive up that dirt road had I not detected wisps of smoke drifting from Creed’s leaning stone chimney.

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