turn into B&Bs that would cater to winter skiers and summer hikers.
At the farthest east section of the mountains, Samuel’s Peak jutted up, where I’d been told since childhood that the spirits of our ancestors lived and watched over our community. Elijah’s People revered that precipice and counted on it to protect us. I wondered if the faithful now questioned that legend, since the ancestors on the mountaintop remained quiet when the feds moved in and made arrests.
“How does Myles enter into the Johansson murders?” Max asked. “Did someone mention him?”
“Two days ago, Saturday afternoon, Naomi saw Myles and Laurel together near the river road,” I explained. “It appears that Myles may have been one of the last to talk to Laurel before the murders. And Reba Johansson believes he may have been angry enough to kill Laurel and the family. I’ll explain why when we get together.”
“Well, I know of him,” Max said, “but not a lot about him. I’d recognize him on the street, but we’ve never talked. Myles is a recluse. He lives in a cabin west of town.”
“Can you find his place?” I asked. “We need to interview him.”
Max said he could, and I suggested that he meet me at Heaven’s Mercy, the shelter where I rented my room. I wanted to shower, throw on a uniform, and to talk to Hannah. With a parade of women and children coming and going, moving in and out of the shelter, Hannah often heard the town gossip.
I parked near the front gate and as I walked up saw a man high on a ladder around the side of the house. The rambling mansion had once been the home of the town prophet, Emil Barstow, his dozens of wives and their more than a hundred children. Wondering what the guy on the ladder was up to, I took a short segue and found Hannah watching him. It turned out that she’d hired a painter to cover up the command old man Barstow had bricked in white on the mansion’s side: Obey and Be Redeemed.
“Finally getting rid of that?” I asked. “About time.”
The painter had already covered the first two words with a red that matched the brick and was working on the ‘E’ in ‘BE.’
Hannah turned toward me, grinning. “I should have done this as soon as the foundation bought the place,” she said. “I didn’t realize how freeing it would be to have old man Barstow wiped off the face of this building.”
“Glad to see it go, but if you’re not needed here, do you have time to talk?” I asked. “I have some questions.”
“About the Johanssons? I heard what happened out at the bison ranch.” At the mention of the murders, Hannah appeared visibly shaken. She shook her head, took a long breath as if to steady herself, and frowned. “Clara, the whole town is talking about it. How is this possible? It’s horrible. Just horrible.”
“Yes, it is. I’m not surprised you heard. It seems that the folks in Alber talk about everything,” I mused. “You didn’t tell me they were watching me dig.”
Hannah sighed. “I didn’t think you’d have to be told. What made you think your activities wouldn’t be noticed?”
I thought about that and shrugged. “You’re right. I should have known better,” I said. “Well, Max is on his way. We have work to do. First, I have to get these muddy clothes off, but walk me inside so we can talk.”
We headed in the door, just as a group of Hannah’s residents in their long dresses and bulky sweaters walked out. Like me, Hannah had on jeans and a T-shirt, topped by an oversize wool jacket. Unlike the women with their long tresses in elaborate twists and knots, Hannah’s graying blond hair was cut to within an inch of her head and she had it spiked straight up.
“Have you heard any speculation about who killed the Johanssons?” I whispered as the others ambled by.
“Oh, Clara, it’s…” Again, Hannah shook her head, harder, as if trying to wipe away terrible images. “It’s all so dreadful. But no. I haven’t heard anything. Which is odd. Usually rumors float, but not this time. At least, not yet. I don’t know of anyone who had a grudge against any of them.”
“What about Jacob’s friend, Carl? Do you know him?” I asked.
“Not well. Just to see around town.” She hesitated, as if considering what to say next. “I didn’t particularly care for him though, and I think others felt