Page 79 of Dead Girl Running

“He’s dead,” Kellen said.

Sheriff Kwinault paused, her cup halfway to her mouth. “Definitely.”

“He hit a tree?” Without asking, Max brought Kellen a mug of hazelnut coffee with sugar.

“An overdose,” Sheriff Kwinault answered.

“An overdose!” Kellen gestured to Max.

He closed the office door, then got himself a bottle of water and pulled up another chair.

“Of what?” Kellen asked.

“Before Lloyd Magnuson came to Cape Charade, he was a heroin addict. He got clean, he moved to Cape Charade, he’s been clean ever since.” Sheriff Kwinault took a sip. “But he had the paraphernalia in the car and there were needle tracks on his arm.”

“When I saw him, he was fine,” Kellen assured her. “Out of his depth as a law officer, but not impaired.”

“What about Priscilla’s body?” Max asked.

Sheriff Kwinault put her cup on the desk. “There was no body in the car with him.”

“So some kind of foul play,” Max said.

Kellen found she needed the coffee; the heat, the caffeine, the sugar alleviated, a little, the chill of death.

“Definitely foul play. No one forced Lloyd to take heroin, but someone had it to offer,” Sheriff Kwinault said.

“Your officers couldn’t find him, but someone managed to steal Priscilla’s body.” Kellen hitched forward in her chair. “How?”

Max reached into his pocket, pulled out a key chain and pushed a button.

His phone squawked.

“I lose my keys all the time,” he said. “My wallet, too.”

Kellen imagined him coming in from outside and flinging his keys and wallet wherever, and not remembering where they had landed. That evening, he would cook dinner, talk about his day, sing, play cards, laugh…

The next morning, when he got ready to leave for work, he couldn’t find his keys and wallet, and he roared and fussed as if someone had stolen his belongings, when it was his own carelessness at fault…

It was almost as if she had been there.

He continued, “I’ve got a finder on them, and it’s the least sophisticated of the electronics. All the killer had to do was tape a finder on the lid of the plastic box, and he or she could find the body in no time flat.”

“Law enforcement gets easier and harder all the time,” Sheriff Kwinault said. “Who saw him last?”

“Temo.” Kellen knew Temo; with his mother’s history, he didn’t use, sell or tolerate drug use, but he did recognize it when he saw it. While she made the call on speakerphone, Sheriff Kwinault gestured to Max to be quiet.

He stood and paced over to the window.

Temo answered, sounding tired and distracted.

“I have the sheriff here,” Kellen said. “They found Lloyd Magnuson.”

Temo’s voice changed to wary. “He’s dead?”

“Very dead.” Sheriff Kwinault tinkered with her cup. “Kellen Adams says you were the last person to see him. Can you tell me about it?”

“Start at when I left you with him and the body,” Kellen said.

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