The newspapers lay where they’d landed, just inside the gate.
The sheriff’s car was parked along the road.
She rolled down her window and gave the deputy the code. He entered it and the gate swung open. “Wait here,” the other officer said, disappearing behind the house.
He returned, shrugging. “Locked tight. Curtains are drawn. ”
“Permission to break a window?” the older deputy asked her. “Faster than a locksmith.”
He came back ten minutes later, pale and shaken.
“What?” she asked, knowing.
“I’m sorry. They’re…gone.”
Her eyes burned. “Can I see them?”
“Please don’t. There was a gun.”