CHAPTER ELEVEN
Earl took one look at the three figures standing by his front door and whistled. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “You kill that girl, Mayhew?” He sounded more intrigued than angry, as if he thought it might make a good story.
Rather than driving the half hour back to the Santa Fe field office for the interview, Harley and Callaway had decided to use Earl’s trailer instead. The idea had been Callaway’s, and despite Harley’s distaste for the crowded, sour-smelling building, she had reluctantly agreed it would be better to question their suspect immediately rather than give him time to invent a story. He was off-balance now, and she wanted to keep him that way.
The man Earl had called Mayhew did not answer the question. He stared at the ground, sullen and stony-faced, as he had b
