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intrigued Luke, an ability to be sociable when she wanted and also to spend long periods of time in silence.
    â€œYou know what’s funny?” he said, noticing that she was still looking at him. “I think I saw Jackson Pynne today, on my way home.”
    â€œReally.”
    â€œYeah, way out in the country. Passed right by me in a silver pickup.”
    Charlotte tilted her head, interested. “Are you sure it was him?”
    â€œNot entirely. Except we looked at each other as he passed and there seemed to be a moment of recognition.”
    â€œYou should tell the inspector.”
    â€œYeah, I know.” He smiled, not sure if her word choice was making fun of Amy Hunter or not. “I will.”
    Her eyes stayed with him as she went back to her soup. “He used to really think the world of you, you know.”
    â€œJackson did?”
    â€œOf course. He thought you could fix his life.”
    Â­â€œPeople overestimate me sometimes.”
    â€œI don’t.” She gave him a smart, mischievous look. “And you don’t. That’s what matters.”
    Sneakers suddenly raised his head as if remembering something he needed from the store. After a moment he settled back to sleep.
    â€œDarlene from the college called,” Charlotte said.
    â€œYour occasional friend.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThis must qualify as an occasion.”
    â€œShe heard that the killing had to do with the vote on the new church. And with the Nayaks. Someone in the office told her that. She wanted to know if it was true.”
    â€œTo which you replied . . .”
    â€œI laughed. I couldn’t help it.”
    â€œGood. An appropriate response,” Luke said.
    Amy Hunter had asked about this, too: if the debate over church growth might’ve had anything to do with the killing. The congregation was split on whether to build a new church on the existing site or sell the land and relocate. Frank Nayak, Jr., or Little Frank, as the old-­timers called him, had offered to purchase the church and donate a large parcel of inland property for the relocation. The church, Little Frank liked to say, was “a nonrevenue producer, not the proper use of that land.”
    â€œYou know how when the mafia wants to deliver a warning, they leave a dead fish on the front porch?” Charlotte said. “Maybe this was a variation of that.”
    â€œLeaving a dead woman?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œWho would they be warning?”
    She widened her eyes, giving him her Who do you think? look.
    â€œIt’s not like I own the church.”
    â€œNo. But you have an opinion. And you’re the face of the church, aren’t you?”
    â€œOnly the mouth.”
    â€œSo to speak.”
    â€œBut my opinion is in line with what the majority of the congregation thinks—­that we keep the property. Though, of course, it isn’t up to me. The district superintendent, the bishop, and the staff/parish committee make those decisions.”
    â€œYou don’t have to convince me, counselor.”
    Luke smiled. He let his thoughts roam a little as he finished the soup. Back to the dream. Back to Millie at the hospice with her child’s smile. Back to the meeting with Hunter. We’re going to solve this thing.
    When he finished, Luke was surprised to see Charlotte studying him.
    â€œLet me guess,” she said. “You’re not thinking about those numbers again.”
    â€œI was, yeah.”
    More than that, he suddenly had a pretty good idea what the numbers in Jane Doe’s right hand meant.

 
    Chapter 9
    B EN S HIPMAN PARKED in one of the nine spaces assigned for state police alongside the Public Safety Complex, where Hunter, Fisch, and Ship worked in small adjoining offices.
    They dropped their bags on Hunter’s desk.
    â€œReady?” she asked, outside Shipman’s door.
    He was rubbing his hands together.
    â€œLet’s do it,”