Rutledge seemed to consider. “Once I did—only once. There was a lot of other people round. At Cold Corners fair it was.”
“Did you talk with her then?”
“Only a minute.”
“What did she say?”
His voice dropped. “She said she was sick and knew she was going to die, and when she was dead she’d come back to me.”
“And what did you answer?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you think anything of it at the time?”
“Well, no. Not till I heard she was dead I didn’t. After that I thought of it—and I guess she drew me.” He moistened his lips.
“Drew you down to that abandoned house by the pond?”