questions. They probably took some pictures and will be asking around trying to identify who died back there.”
“So what are you doing here? How the hell did you get here? You don’t even know it’s him.”
“No, I don’t. Wheaton, the county sheriff, thought it might be a good thing if I drove up, tried to find out some things.”
“You don’t even know if it’s my husband. Lots of men from here go down and work the fields.”
“I know. I told you I don’t know anything for sure. What I do know is that I dreamt that pinecone stand down at your driveway. Guess that’s why I pulled in here.”
“You dreamt that?”
“Yeah. Sorta. Maybe more like I went to the field where this guy died and saw the stand.”
Tears ran down the woman’s cheeks. “Saw it?” she asked. She fumbled for the cigarette in the ashtray only to realize all that was there were the butts. Cash took out another Marlboro, lit it and handed it to her before lighting one for herself.
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