Only after they were gone did Burton look back at Clara fully.
“What did you see?”
Clara swallowed hard.
“The ridge behind Wade Hollis’ property.”
At the mention of Wade Hollis’s name, something shifted almost imperceptibly in Burton’s face.
A tiny pause.
A tightening around the eyes.
Then it was gone.
“What exactly did you see, Clara?”
And she told him.
The plane.
The trucks.
The men.
And then—the body.
The tail number she’d sketched half a dozen times without realizingwhy it mattered.
N372FL.
The station went still.
Burton leaned back slowly, one hand resting against his belt.
“When did this happen?”
“Now.”
“You sure it was Hollis land?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook harder now. “I paint up there all the time. I know exactly where I was.”
Burton glanced once toward the windows.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Like a sheriff realizing something had become far bigger than a county fight between Sam Talley and Wade Hollis.
He glanced back at Clara.
“You did the right thing coming here.”
The reassurance steadied her slightly.
Burton lowered his voice.
