44Friday, the day of the wedding, broke cloudy with an off and on drizzle. Molly was up early. Her wrists and arms sore from being dragged through the meadow, she felt unsettled, the stress having caused her to fall asleep before Ben had gotten home, still full of far more questions than answers. d**g-dealing, multiple villagers implicated in the scheme, an attempted a*******n—but was any of that pertinent to Coulon’s murder? It felt as though they kept uncovering wrongdoing in every direction but the one that mattered.
Was Coulon mixed up in the Vasiliev’s d**g ring as well, and if so, had that gotten him killed? She had no problem imagining Vasily committing the act, not now. But she had nothing to connect him directly to Coulon, nothing but a devious and murderous nature, which did not
