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"I’m Sheriff David Mountebank"

The man stuck out his hand "I’m James Quinlan, Sheriff Mountebank This is Susan Brandon We were together e found the woo"

"Ms Brandon"

"Won’t you be seated, Sheriff?"

He nodded, took his hat off, and relaxed into the soft sofa cushions "The Cove’s changed," he said, looking around A room as if he’d found hiestion "It see better and better How about that?"

"I wouldn’t know," Quinlan said "I’m froot to be the youngest sprout within the town li over near the highway Don’t knohy folks would want to live near the highway They don’t come into The Cove except for ice cream, leastwises that’s what I hear"

"No, Sheriff I’ my aunt Just a short vacation I’m from Missouri"

Sheriff Mountebank wrote that down in his book, then sat back, scratched his knees, and said, "Theout the dead woht hours, I’d say"

"I knohen she died," Sally said

The sheriff merely s, and sure enough, everything he ever wanted to hear would pop out of a person’s mouth just to fill in the silence

He didn’t have to wait long this time because Susan Brandon couldn’t wait to tell him about the screams, about how her aunt had convinced her it was just the wind that first night, but last night she’d known--just known--it was a wo, a woman in pain, and then that last scream, well, someone had killed her

"What time was that? Do you re, Sheriff That’s whenwith me and called Reverend Vorhees"