And this was one of those things.
Can I be objective?He thought.It was an impossibility.Some lawmen were perfect.Connor always tried to be a good man.But perfection was never on the cards for him.The edge was always there.
Connor looked at Warren’s hand.Dirt under the nails.A small cut across one knuckle.No wedding band.Warren’s personal life had never been simple.In Harlan County, people remembered enough of it to talk and forgot enough of it to get the details wrong.
“I’m sorry this happened to you, Warren,” Connor whispered.
The words made the lodge feel smaller.
Arnold looked toward the windows.“Who’d want Warren dead?”
“Half the county on a bad day,” Matt said.
Connor shot him a look.
Matt didn’t apologize.“He wasn’t always the jolliest, put that way.And a real estate guy?Dealing in land is just asking for trouble”
Connor said, “Warren was kinder than you know.He was just… Set in his ways, that’s all.He didn’t deserve this.”
“I never said he did,” Matt said.
Connor turned toward the wall where the revolver lay.“What caliber?”
“Looks like a .38,” Matt said.“I’ll know once we process it.”
“Prints?”
“Can’t say yet.The grip looks clean from my initial inspection of the gun on the ground, but like I say, we need more analysis.”
“Clean as in no blood?”
“Yeah.”
“Could it have been wiped?”
Matt gave him a pointed look.“Maybe.”
The place bothered Connor.Not in the same way St.Bartholomew’s had bothered him when he found a woman murdered in its tower months back.This had no ritual dressing.No theatrical cruelty.But the care was there in a different form.The envelope.Warren being seated.The choice of a lodge tied to old hunting stories, old pride, old memory.Connor had heard Warren talk about it before.Hell, they’d gone on a couple of hunting trips together and used it themselves.It was important to him because his dad used it.
Connor could feel it in his bones.Someone else had done this.
Somebody had known Warren would come here.Had he been lured?
“Do we have Warren’s phone?”Connor asked.
“Yeah,” Matt answered.“It was in his front pocket.”
“Process it, see if he took any calls or messages lately.It’s possible he was meeting someone here.”
Matt nodded.
“Have you done a sweep for footprints?”Connor asked.
“That’s the one thing that looks most suspect,” Matt said.
“Why?”Arnold asked.
"I looked for footprints.The only ones I found I'd bet were Tom Reeder's, and yours, Arnold, when you answered the call to come here."Matt leaned down and, with gloved hands, moved Warren's lifeless right foot.He took out a small flashlight and shone on the boot."That's a heavy boot.Warren had big feet.There were very few prints like that.Given the amount of dirt and dust that gets trampled through here, there should have been many more, but I haven't found any.And there were scuffed marks in the dust, horizontal lines as far as I can tell."
