Even though the troopers had moved operations into Emmalee’s living room, warmth eluded her. She had been outside for a long time, since seven when she’d arrived with Brenna, and it was now nearly two in the morning. Still, she was sure the chill of the fall night wasn’t the only culprit. Just the thought of Hal Hoffman’s lifeless body, weapon still protruding from his chest, lying half submerged in a puddle was enough to make her shiver despite the mug of hot apple cider she held. The sweet liquid, prepared to serve to people coming out of the maze, tasted slightly burned after being forgotten in the Crock-Pot for too long. Hal’s body had finally been removed. Pasquale had moved them inside so that job could be done without the family watching. Stan had seen the slow, somber ambulance lights as the vehicle pulled away from the farm. She wondered, randomly, how the cows were handling all the excitement, or if they’d even noticed. There were only a few people left at this point.
