Free Forbidden Ground by Karen Harper

insurance payments, not even for good medical coverage, which she needs since she’s been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Had Paul told you that, Grant?”
    “Yeah. He did. Jace, I don’t think he’d kill himself.”
    “I’d go with accident—even murder before that. Nadine insists all three of the carving wheels were stable. From the angle it crushed his skull, either he pulled it down on top of himself or was lying on the floor when someone else pushed it.”
    “I can’t fathom anyone would murder Paul,” Grant said.
    “Considering any possibility in a situation like this is standard police procedure. I’m going to have to ask you two, since you’re the closest ones we have to eyewitnesses, to give me separate statements on what you observed in the house and when you found him. I’d like to talk to you first, Kate, since you spotted him on the floor before Grant did.”
    Grant nodded. “We understand. Anything to help. I’ve lost a good friend, and we’ve lost a talented artist.”
    Kate surprised herself by clinging to Grant’s hand as they stood. Then she let go and followed Deputy Miller around the side of the house where he indicated they could talk in the front seat of his squad car.
    * * *
    After she’d spent a half hour with Deputy Miller, Kate waited for Grant to be interviewed. Jace Miller seemed understandably nervous to her, but he’d done a thorough job of taking her statement. Remembering Grant’s warnings about not theorizing, she’d tried to stick to the facts.
    But now, sitting in Grant’s truck, waiting for him, Kate began to tremble. If Paul had been murdered, he wasn’t the first victim she’d seen, she tried to tell herself. She’d studied deaths, even of murder and sacrificial victims, and their surroundings the way Deputy Miller and the experts would have to here.
    But the victims she’d seen were long-dead, dusty skeletons in ancient graves, put to death and buried with their deceased masters to honor and serve them. Discovering Paul that way made her think how horrible it must have been for the Celt and Adena slaves or companions of the dead to have their skulls smashed so they could accompany their betters to the afterlife.
    The minute she and Grant drove down the mountain to the level of the town, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Carson was calling. She didn’t answer the call but saw that he’d phoned her three other times while she’d been out of reach over the past four hours. Well, when she told him what had happened, he’d have to understand.
    “Important?” Grant asked.
    “Carson Cantrell. You know—my university mentor and colleague. I’ll call him back later. Grant, should we talk more about Paul? To debrief or just clear the air? This on top of the loss of your tree...”
    “This is worse than the tree.”
    “Of course it is. I’m sure you want to break it to Todd and Brad.”
    “Don’t want to but have to. Word will get around fast, even if Paul lived out—up—a ways.”
    “I suppose everyone will say he died doing what he loved. I had a colleague who loved to ski and was killed in an avalanche, but I guess there is a bit of comfort in looking at it that way. Paul’s work is amazing—unique and so imaginative. It’s a great loss, and I was so excited to have him do a work to link the Celts and Adena. Did you notice the carving that...that hurt him had the well-known Adena pipe figure on it? It’s eerie—almost as if he knew that’s what I planned to commission from him, with the Beastmaster.”
    She saw Grant’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Maybe she was wrong to think it would help him to talk about Paul.
    He cleared his throat. “Your appreciation of his work pleased him. He was really stubborn about sticking to his art, even when Nadine thought he should take another job—any job—to tide them over or that he should go more commercial. Kate, I was hoping we could have dinner tonight, but I’d better tell our