" Don’t leave town”—she’d said that right before she left, preceded by “person of interest.” And the girl’s face was there too. Amber Inglin’s pretty, scared face, dropped into his mind like a quarter into the coke machine Frank insisted they have for the crew.
The girl, lying in his field, decay already starting—it was hot. Imagining flies attracted by the sweetish smell of recent death, he fought off nausea. The line of trees at the back of the eastern vineyard wavered into a strange, watery mirage. Or maybe she wasn’t there anymore—they’d have removed her by now, to the coroner’s, or a morgue. "

― Cynthia Robinson , Birds of Wonder