I stormed out of Gretchen's office, furious, feeling impotent and as if I'd been assaulted, my stomach in knots. Typically, I could get people to talk to me, usually getting them to spill far more than they originally intended. This clamming up, walling off, tight-lipped action? Wasn't used to it, not even a little bit. I realized then, as I stalked toward the stable that hosted the crime scene, sun already set behind the mountains and real night rapidly approaching, this was how ...