“Did you see him beat your neighbor?” Sharp wondered if this woman was the witness.

Iris shivered and rubbed her arms. “No. I came home from work just as the ambulance picked up Larry. His face . . .” She closed her eyes for a few seconds. A tremor passed through her. “It happened a long time ago, but everyone who lived here back then remembers.”

“Do you know where he might be now?” Sharp asked.

“Sure.” Iris looked at her watch. “Ronald just got a new job at Frederick’s Garden Center. It’s on Highway 12. I used to buy my perennials there. This year I went to Home Depot.”

“Good call.” Sharp pointed at the business card still in her hand. “If you remember anything else, you can give me a call.”

“I will.” Iris pocketed the card. “The entire neighborhood would love it if Ronald went back to prison and stayed there.”

Stella and Sharp returned to her vehicle.

Stella fastened her seat belt. “Let’s try the garden center.”

When he and Stella were engrossed in the investigation, he could almost pretend he was working a normal case. But the moment his brain was unoccupied, Olivia appeared front and center. He rubbed the aching emptiness above his heart as Stella drove away from the Alexander house.

Frederick’s Garden Center was only a few miles away. The rural roads had little traffic, and the drive took just a few minutes.

After she parked next to a pallet of pumpkins, Stella used her dashboard computer to pull up Ronald’s driver’s license photo. “This is who we’re looking for.”

Ronald Alexander was about fifty years old, with a mean squint and the veiny red nose of a longtime alcoholic.

They stepped out of the car and walked down several aisles of plants. They found Ronald in front of a greenhouse, loading trays of purple cabbages onto a display table. He was an average-size man, but his body and face looked hard, as if he had spent most of his life doing physical labor and being pissed off about it. His hairline had receded past his ears, leaving him with a crown of greasy brown-and-gray hair. Over his jeans and sweatshirt, he wore a green apron displaying the Frederick’s logo.

“Excuse me, Mr. Alexander?” Stella moved her jacket aside to show the badge on her belt.

Ronald’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked scared. “What do you want? I haven’t done anything.”

“Is there somewhere we can go and talk?” Stella glanced around. “Can you take a quick break? We only have a few questions.”

“No. I’m working.” Ronald turned to the plants and gave the two investigators his back.

“I’d be happy to run it by your manager.” Stella smiled. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you cooperating.”

“Cooperating with what?” He shifted a tray of plants.

“My investigation,” Stella said. “Your former boss’s wife, Lena Olander, is dead.”

“I know. I saw it on the news.” Ronald spun to grab another tray of cabbages. “I am under no legal obligation to answer your questions.”

No one understood his rights better than an ex-con.

But Stella was no pushover. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about Lena and Kennett Olander. You worked for Olander Dairy, is that correct?”

Shiny sweat broke out on Ronald’s head. “Get this straight. I will not talk to you. Lena killed herself. That has nothing to do with me.”

Sharp had no time for his bullshit. “Does your new boss know you’re an ex-con?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ronald licked his lips. “This is harassment.”

“Why don’t you want to talk about the Olanders?”

“You had no right to come here.” His eyes darted up and down the aisle, as if he expected someone to be watching. He lowered his voice. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” Stella said.

Ronald opened his mouth but quickly closed it. He set his jaw, but underneath his determination was fear. “There’s nothing to tell. I worked for Mr. Olander, but he had to sell the farm. Obviously, there was no job for me once the cows were sold. He had to let me go.”

“Were you on the farm when Erik killed his wife?” Stella asked.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Did you ever see Erik and his wife fight?” Stella pressed.

“I rarely saw Erik’s wife,” Ronald evaded.

Sharp jumped in. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t have to.” Ronald crossed his arms and took a step backward.

“OK, Ronald.” Stella backed off. Unfortunately, Ronald was right. He was under no obligation to speak with them, and they had no leverage.

Sharp wasn’t ready to give up. He stepped closer, eating up the space Ronald had put between them, getting in his face. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” But a muscle on the side of Ronald’s face twitched.

He was lying. Sharp could feel it. Anger rose into his throat, as bitter as Morgan’s coffee. If Stella weren’t here, Sharp would make Ronald talk any way he could.

He didn’t normally condone threats or physical violence, but with Olivia missing, nothing was off-limits.

Stella put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go, Sharp.”

Reluctantly, he followed her back to her car. “Are you sure we just can’t beat it out of him?” He was only half kidding.

“The interview wasn’t a total loss. We learned that he’s terrified.”

“But what is he afraid of? Olander? Or something else?”

“Whatever it is, it’s scarier than the police. Now I want to talk to Mr. Olander.” Neither of them spoke as Stella drove out to the dairy farm. The twin houses looked even more depressing than they had when Sharp had been there with Lance.

They went up to the front door of the main residence and knocked, but no one answered.

“Let’s try the barn.” Sharp turned away from the door.

“All right, but we cannot search the premises,” she warned. “We can only call out for Mr. Olander. Your hunches are not enough to get a search warrant.”

“Uh-huh,” Sharp said vaguely. He wasn’t making promises.

“This place is creepy.” Stella followed him around the side of the house. The sun broke through the clouds. “There should be animals. It feels like a ghost farm.”

“It looks like they sold everything that had value.” Sharp used his hand as a visor to block the sunshine. He stopped at the entrance to the barn. The brightness outside made the barn’s interior appear black.

“Mr. Olander!” Stella called through the wide doorway.

One of the barn cats slunk across the opening, giving Sharp and Stella the stink eye as it raced away.

“The barn smells worse than I remember.” Sharp waved a hand in front of his nose. “All I can smell is shit.”

Stella cupped a hand around her mouth. “Mr. Olander, are you here?”

Somewhere in the darkness, wood creaked. Sharp stepped across the threshold, the unreachable spot between his shoulder blades itching in warning.