Chapter 8: The Fiancee

We did it in the barn, because there was nowhere private in that yard.

The fiancee stood in the aisle between the stalls, holding my phone in both hands.

She read the statement slowly.

She read it twice.

Boone leaned in the doorway, giving her the room.

Maxine stood beside him, not giving anyone anything.

"Transfer to D. Culbertson," the fiancee said.

"Yes."

"The nineteenth of April."

"Yes."

"That's the week he came to my father's bank to ask about a loan," she said.

She said it flatly, to the phone.

"He said he'd been in Idaho on a job."

"He said he'd just sold a share in a company."

"He said he was home to take his brother's place."

She looked up.

"Take his place?" Boone said.

"That's what he told us."

Boone said nothing.

His mother turned her head and gave him a long look.

The fiancee handed my phone back.

Her hand shook.

"I'm sorry," she said to me. "I'm so sorry. I called you a liar in my head all night."

"You didn't know."

"I should have."

"Everyone should have, and nobody did," I said. "That's how he does it."

She nodded.

She looked down at the ring on her finger.

She turned it twice, and then she took it off.

She walked down the aisle to Maxine, in front of Orrin and Boone and three stable hands pretending to oil a saddle.

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