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The town of Cold Springs had two cemeteries. The one by the school always felt gothic to Luther, with looming conifers and older, larger gravestones, and the river far below just visible at the rear of the property. The next day, he found himself driving past the other cemetery on his way back to the station after responding to a vandalism complaint. Someone had spray painted “ASSHOLE” on Mr. Filmore’s tractor, and after spending twenty minutes with the man, Luther sympathized with the culprit. It was a cool but not frigid morning, with the sun having burned off all the frost. In no particular hurry, Luther decided to stop.
Most of the town’s recently dead were buried in this cemetery. The space was sandwiched between a couple of fields with grazing horses, and it backed up to forest.
