“He was always among the best of us,” said Pirato, “though I know you wouldn’t consider that to be a very high bar.”

“I may have done him an injustice,” I said, “and contributed to his death.”

“Matty always went his own way, and he died doing the right thing. Don’t take that away from him. Does Amara know?”

“The police have been to see her.”

“I’ll head up there this evening. And I appreciate your taking the time to call.”

He wished me a good day, and hung up.

AT THE INN, Sabine was waiting, looking distressed.

“I asked the police to let me enter the house,” she said, “but they told me they couldn’t do that.”

“Nobody outside the investigation will be allowed in until they’ve finished clearing it of bodies,” I said, “and maybe not even then, not for a while. Ultimately, it will be torn down, and the grass left to grow over it. If enough time goes by, the woods will reclaim the land and nobody will ever be able to locate the site again.”

“And the Michauds’ property, what will happen to it?”

“They have some distant relations who might be able to lay claim, but it’ll be sold one way or another. Hickman might try to buy it out of spite, though I doubt anyone will want to settle on it, or not until a lot of years have passed.”

“You know,” she said, “it won’t die just because the house is gone.”

“What won’t die?”

“Whatever made its home in that place. Whatever poisoned the Michauds. I don’t know that it can die, not like we do. Perhaps the best we can hope for is that it will be forgotten, and in being forgotten it will fade away.”

“Do you think the Michauds gave Henry Clark to it?” I asked. “Is that why they took him, along with whatever other unfortunates might have ended up buried in there?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Who can tell?” said Sabine. “Why did the ancients make sacrifices to their gods? To avoid angering them, and receive blessings and protection in return. What does the surviving sister say?”

“That she didn’t know anything about it and it was all the work of her siblings, but that won’t hold up under stress. Forensics will connect her to the house, which will put pressure on her to change her story. Should she reconsider, and decide to open up, we may learn more about their motives.”

“She won’t ever tell the full truth, whatever happens,” said Sabine.

“Why not?”

“I doubt she could even explain to herself. She believed, and it was enough for her that she did.”

Sabine stared out the window. I could feel her straining to reach the Michaud property.

“Why do you want to enter the house?”

“I want to comfort Henry,” she said. “The best of him, the soul of him, is still in there.”

“And the thing you say is with him?”

“It’s already retreating, going deeper. It doesn’t like strangers moving through its spaces. It prefers being alone with its dead.”

“Soon they’ll take Henry away from that place,” I said.

“Good. There’ll have to be an autopsy, won’t there?”

“Yes.”