Free HIGHWAY HOMICIDE by Bill WENHAM

hand.
    As he turned to walk away, through the snow covered sloping field to the barn, he looked back at the tractor, and being red, it stood out from the surrounding snow and was easily visible. The saving grace was that, although it could be clearly seen from the road, it couldn’t be seen from the house.
    Of course, if the house’s owners left the house, they would surely wonder what someone else’s tractor was doing in their field. With the blizzard now over it was highly unlikely that even blowing snow would do much to hide it.
    After his painful and totally unnecessary experience of the previous night, he made no attempt to cover his tracks as he plowed his way across the field to the barn. This wasn’t exactly what he’d intended, but his choices appeared to be somewhat limited. He really didn’t want to be seen walking across a field in broad daylight, but that too wasn’t an option either.
    Trudging wearily uphill through the deep snow in his soaking wet boots, he finally reached the back doors of the barn. These were the animal entry doors and were securely locked. The house was on the far side of the barn and probably th ere’d be an entry door on that side as well, providing easy access to the barn from the house.
    He edged his way carefully along the back of the barn looking for another way in, out of sight of the house. As he rounded the far end, he came to a small access door, which was directly across from another smaller building. This second building was also much closer to the house.
    It had been hidden fr om his view by the barn as he’d approached. It was similar in size to the large shed at the old house in which he’d found the tractor. He couldn’t see any signs of life anywhere from where he stood, but if he tried to investigate the smaller building, he’d then be in full view from the house.
    David Gates gripped the small door’s handle and turned it. Much to his rel ief, it opened easily and he slipped inside.
    The barn itself was empty of any kind of farm animals. No cows, horses or anything else except perhaps a few mice. There were several gaps between the siding boards, where blowing snow from the night bef ore had drifted inside. Now he was also inside, David could see there was another entry door on the house side of the barn, as he’d expected. The barn actually had two doors for cattle. The one he’d seen earlier, leading out to the field and the one he was seeing now.
    There was also a large square window, set diamond fashion, high up in each end wall of the barn, plus several lower down. H e’d noticed the typical Vermont white painted cupola on the roof as he’d approached across the field. It appeared to him the barn was no longer in use as a working farm building though.
    There were many like that scattered across the State. All over the country too, he supposed, in various states of disrepair.
    David shrugged off the oilskin and sou’wester and hung them on a nail beside the door. Ahead of him was a built in ladder leading to a hay loft. He set the oil lamp down on the floor at the base of it.
    Leaving the examination of the loft for a moment, he went over to the far side of the barn and peered out at the house through one of the spaces between the boards. The two storey house, with a detached garage, which he now realized the other smaller building was, appeared to be a good two hundred yards away. Because of the accumulated and drifted snow, he couldn’t tell where the yard stopped and where the driveway to the road started.
    More importantly, he could see that the house was definitely occupied. Smoke drifted up lazily from the chimney and he could faintly hear the sounds of country music coming from inside the house.
    He couldn’t see any signs of tracks leading from the house to the barn. With no animals to attend to, what reason would the occupants have to come in here? Especially in this weather.
    David could see the barn roof looked sound and was probably