From atop a fifty-gallon drum, a radio spews static and gospel, harmonizing weirdly with the ping of sleet against the tin roof.Adam must have heard us walk in, because he rolls out from beneath the tractor and gets to his feet. “Chief Burkholder.” His eyes slide to Pickles and then back to me. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Is everything all right?”I give him a level look. “Where were you last night and this morning?”He blinks, takes a quick step back, as if trying to distance himself from something unpleasant. “Why are you asking me that?”“I’d appreciate it if you’d just answer the question.”“I was here at the farm.”“Was there anyone with you?”“No,” he replies. “I live here alone.” His eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me these things?”“We learned from the coroner that your brothers and sister-in-law may have been murdered.”He staggers back, as if the words wield a physical punch. “But … how can that be? They fell into the pit.
