A Judgment of Whispers Read Free Page A

him, nose to the ground, making little forays to explore the churned-up dirt.
    â€œMust be part bloodhound,” Saunooke muttered. He walked over to the biggest bulldozer. Two empty Coke cans had been left in the driver’s seat, but the engine cowling was locked down and there were no scratches around the gas cap. He ran his hand along the dozer’s massive fender, thinking how he would have loved to climb up on one of these monsters when he was little. He wondered if some kids bored by the yard sale hadn’t felt the same way.
    He’d just turned back toward his cruiser, when a gray-haired man appeared from behind the backhoe. He was tall and lean, dressed in khaki pants and a blue FOP windbreaker. He startled Saunooke so that he almost reached for his weapon.
    â€œEasy, officer.” The man lifted his hands. “I’m unarmed.”
    â€œYou have business here?” Saunooke felt silly, almost drawing on an old man. But everyone carried guns these days, even at restaurants and playgrounds. You had to be careful.
    â€œJust looking around.” The man stepped forward but kept his hands raised. “Detective Jack Wilkins, Pisgah County Sheriff Department, retired.”
    Now Saunooke felt even dumber. Almost drawing on one of Pisgah’s own. “Sorry,” he began. “I got a call about somebody hot-wiring one of these things. I didn’t see you there.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” said Jack. “I was just taking a little walk down memory lane.”
    â€œYou lived here?”
    â€œNo. I just spent a lot of time here.”
    Saunooke looked at the man. He was the right age, had the right air of regret about him. “Teresa Ewing?”
    Wilkins nodded as he lowered his hands. “I was the lead detective. Worked with a rookie named Buck Whaley. He still on the force?”
    Saunooke squelched a groan. He despised Whaley, who detested him in equal measure. “He is.”
    â€œReally?” Wilkins seemed surprised. “I didn’t figure he’d last that long.”
    â€œHe’s senior detective now,” said Saunooke. “You guys really went all out on Teresa Ewing.”
    Wilkins gave him a bitter smile. “In thirty years, it’s the only one I didn’t clear.”
    Saunooke looked at the man’s muddy sneakers. They were beige, fastened with Velcro straps—exactly the kind old men with bad bunions wore. “You come here a lot, to think about it?”
    â€œI haven’t been here in years. I just wanted to see the neighborhood one last time, before they tore it up completely.” He turned and looked at the bulldozers, the mounds of dirt. “The only things I really recognize now are those houses and this tree.” He turned to the massive oak towering over them. “Teresa and the other children played here. The soil had eroded around the roots. They had a great network of hidey-holes here.”
    â€œDidn’t they find her in one of those holes?” asked Saunooke.
    â€œYeah, we did.”
    Suddenly the dog bounded up, a cast-off tin of chewing tobacco in his mouth, his tail wagging as he dropped the item at Saunooke’s feet.
    â€œGo on,” Saunooke said, growing irritated. “I’m not here to play fetch with you.”
    The dog looked at him disappointed, but then ran back into the scrubby vegetation that had once comprised someone’s back yard.
    â€œHe belong to you?” asked Wilkins.
    â€œHe’s headed for the pound,” Saunooke replied. “I got this bulldozer call on my way there.”
    â€œToo bad,” said Wilkins. “He seems like a nice dog.”
    â€œI should probably check the rest of this site out,” said Saunooke. “Want to come along?”
    â€œSure.” Wilkins shrugged. “Be like old times.”
    They walked slowly around the edge of the development, Wilkins explaining how they’d worked the Ewing case. The SBI