Rather than fill the detective’s unmarked car with Brigit’s fur, she suggested we take my cruiser. I believed she deserved due warning. “I’m driving the Barf-mobile.” “Thanks for the heads-up. The shaking I can handle, but that smell?” She grimaced and pulled a small jar of VapoRub from her desk drawer, scooping up a smidge with her index finger and spreading it over her upper lip. “Works like a charm, especially when you’re faced with a decomposed corpse.” Yuck. “Thanks for the tip.” She held the jar out to me and I snagged a swipe. The stuff would not only mask a scent and clear your nostrils, but with all the oil it contained it was probably a great wrinkle fighter, too. We piled into the car and shook and shimmied and bounced our way down I-35 to the Hill County jail in Hillsboro. A stocky female sheriff’s deputy checked us in and led us down the hall to an interrogation room. Haynes was already seated inside. Next to him sat a young white male attorney who looked to be fresh out of law school.
