Page 34 of The River We Remember

Bluestone’s face changed not at all. “I heard he shot himself.”

“We found his truck out at Inkpaduta Bend,” Graff said. “That’s not all that far from your place.”

“Not all that far from a lot of places, including Quinn’s.”

“Where were you Thursday, Noah?”

“Home.”

“All day?”

“Most of it.”

“Didn’t happen to go to Inkpaduta Bend, did you?” Brody asked.

“Yes.”

The forthrightness of the answer surprised Brody. “When?”

“Just before dark.”

“Why?”

“It’s a place I go sometimes.”

“Why that night?”

“I told you it’s a place I go sometimes. A spiritual place.”

“Did you see Jimmy?”

“No one was there.”

“Quinn wasn’t fishing?”

“I told you. No one was there.”

“How long did you stay?”

“Until the sky was all stars. An hour maybe.”

“And you didn’t see Jimmy?”

“I didn’t see a living soul. But I heard something.”

“What?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“A lost spirit.”

Brody did believe him, believed him absolutely, because he’d heard the same thing and had tried to convince himself it was the sound of a coyote.

Bluestone’s eyes shifted. So did Graff’s. Both to something behind the sheriff.

“Brody?”