The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [71]
Something, though, made her pause. Not a movement, not a sound … but a smell that mingled with the residue left from musty grain, and the pickled gherkins and cut flowers on the display tables. A smell that had not been in the barn when Chloe left it earlier that evening.
All good cheer fled. She suddenly felt as if ants were marching down her spine.
Chloe held the lantern high. She didn’t see anything out of place. She took a step, and another—
Then she saw the body, and the blood.
_____
An hour later, the barn was lit like a carnival. Vehicles lined the site road, red and blue lights flashing. Someone had brought additional lights too, harsh white ones that bleached the barn. Flashbulbs exploded like tiny fireworks. Figures moved in and out of the glare.
Chloe watched numbly from the Sanford house’s front porch. She sat with her back against the wall, knees pulled up, arms clasped tight around her legs. She’d lost track of everyone who had arrived: Hank DiCapo, Old World’s on-duty security guard. A red-haired cop from Eagle. The county medical examiner. A couple of EMTs. A short, squat detective from Waukesha, whose name she’d already forgotten. Site director Ralph Petty.
Another vehicle arrived, and another shadowy figure emerged and mingled with the others. A man silhouetted against the electric blaze pointed in her direction.
The newcomer walked across the road and switched on a flashlight. “Chloe?”
“Roelke? Is that you?” Chloe tried to get to her feet. Her limbs were not ready to function.
He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Chloe found her cheek pressed into his shoulder. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. Instead a hot ache filled her chest. Don’t say anything, she told him silently. Just let me rest here. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend that this entire freakish night was nothing but a bad dream.
Finally Roelke spoke. “I’m so sorry.”
Chloe reluctantly pushed herself upright again. “How did you know?” He wore jeans and a T-shirt and his gun belt.
“Skeet had dispatch call me.” Roelke waved vaguely toward the barn. “He said you found the body.”
Chloe nodded.
“Who is it?”
“Harriet Van Dyne. She volunteers here, helping Dellyn with the gardens. Did.” Chloe tried to moisten dry lips with her tongue. “At first I thought it was Dellyn.”
“Stabbed?”
Chloe winced. What she’d seen in the kerosene lantern’s glow seemed seared on the inside of her eyelids. “Do you know what a scythe is?”
“I do. Jesus.” Roelke stared toward the crime scene. “Never mind. I’ll get the rest of the details later.”
“Why would someone kill Harriet?” Chloe demanded. “Why would someone do that?”
“I don’t know. But the detective, Pierce? He’s good. He’ll find the SOB.”
“I don’t even know what Harriet was doing in the barn. She’d left for the day.”
“Skeet said they found her purse hidden beneath a table. Maybe she left, realized she’d forgotten it, and came back to get it.”
“It could have been me,” Chloe whispered. “I was supposed to be the last one in the barn tonight. I went over to Ketola—one of the Finnish farms—to get something.” She thought about her carefree rambles to Ketola and back. Where had the killer been then? Had he been watching her?
“Why were you here so late? It’s almost midnight.”
“Detective Pierce asked me the same thing.” Chloe gave Roelke a condensed version of her little sauna adventure. “We asked Hank if he’d seen the sauna open while making his rounds, and fastened the lock, but he said no.” She shuddered violently, and clutched Roelke’s hand. “It still might have been someone else on staff who locked me in. Maybe one of the farmers was working late. But God, Roelke, what if it wasn’t? What if the murderer was the one who locked me in? I know it sounds stupid, but …” Her voice trailed away. Had she really been so close to Harriet’s killer? If so, why had he been content to merely lock the sauna