Chapter Eight

Everybody forgot about the girl whose body was dumped a few miles from our town. She wasn’t a local. She was tattooed, and there was evidence of use of drugs. Her body was probably dumped after an accidental overdose, as there were no signs of violence on her, not even bruises.

I was glad, because if there was a murderer in town, Travis would have to hang around to make sure I was safe. And I didn’t want to see him again after that night. I was too embarrassed, too ashamed.

I believed he felt exactly the same. He was gone when I woke up the next morning. Therese, my maid, told me that Travis sat on the couch all night that night. He waited until the house was up at sunrise, and then he left.

“I was startled to find him sitting like a statue in the couch. He was not moving, lost in his thoughts,” she had said. “He didn’t look like he slept at all.” Well, he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t able to sleep that nig

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