Page 38 of The Summer Guests

“Just take care of the girl, okay?”

As Jo drove away with Luther, Maggie took Callie in her arms. Felt her heart beating as fast as a bird’s, her body electric with panic.

“Why did they take him? What did he do?” Callie sobbed.

“I don’t know, sweetie.” As much as Maggie wanted to keep holding the girl, she had calls to make, questions that needed answering. She pulled back and took Callie by the shoulders. Looked her in the eye. “I need you to do something for me. Will you?”

Callie rubbed away tears. Nodded.

“I need you to go back to my henhouse and take care of my flock today.”

“But what about Grandpa?”

“Finish watering them and arm the fence. Collect the rest of the eggs and get them into cartons.”

“What areyougoing to do?”

Maggie took a breath and straightened. “I’m going to go help your grandpa.”

Chapter 20

Jo

If anyone looked the part of a dangerous man, it was Luther Yount. When they’d arrested him, he’d been laying out fresh bedding in his barn, and strands of straw, along with a few stray chicken feathers, were now snagged in his beard and his perpetually unkempt hair. He smelled like a barn as well, his baggy clothes ripe with the odors of cows and manure and freshly mowed hay. It wasn’t a terrible smell, Jo thought, but it had thoroughly permeated the small interview room where she and State Police Detective Robert Alfond sat, facing Yount across the table. She could tell by Alfond’s look of distaste that he was not as sanguine as Jo about barnyard odors. She had last interviewed Yount back in February, when she’d needed information on his neighbor, Maggie Bird. He had been defiant then, fiercely protective of Maggie, and unafraid to butt heads with the police.

He did not look so defiant today. This Luther was visibly shaken, his hands clasped tightly, his gaze fixed on the table, where a lone white chicken feather lay trembling in the current from the air-conditioning vent. She had not thought this man was capable of violence, but yesterday’s report from the crime lab, and his downcast demeanor, forced her to reconsider her opinion of Luther Yount.

“Tell us how the blood got into your truck, Mr. Yount,” said Alfond.

“I don’t know about any blood.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true. Idon’tknow. There has to be a mistake.”

“Not according to the crime lab.”

“Is this some kind of mind game? A way to get me to admit something I didn’t do?” Luther glared at Alfond. “It’s a technique with you people, isn’t it?”

“Why would you think that? Have you been in trouble with the police before?”

“I’m not an ignorant man. I know how this works.”

Alfond leaned back in his chair and gave Luther a cynical once-over. “No, you certainly aren’t an ignorant man. In fact, you appear to be quite brilliant. A full professor at MIT. Mechanical engineering, is that right?”

Luther’s answer was a sullen stare.

“You had a tenured position. A sabbatical every seven years. A nice office at the university. I can’t imagine why anyone would give up that job. I know I certainly wouldn’t.”

“You aren’t me.”

“So explain, Mr. Yount—or should I sayProfessorYount—why you’re now living in Maine, shoveling cow shit?”

“Cows are likable animals.”

“Unlike people?”

“You said it.”

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