Sophie was determined to know how “Max” had died. To the point of making Max believe “she” really didn’t know, “What kind of accident?” Her voice was eager.

“No,” Sarah shook her head, “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

Max offered, “Miss, I’ve been told it helps to heal. To speak about those that passed, that is. It will help you move on, perhaps?”

Watering eyes, Sarah explained, “He’d been hanging out with some shady people. They came by one day yelling at him about some money. The police say he owed some bad people a lot of money, and they probably killed him for it, making it look like the accident it was reported to be.”

“What did the report say?” Sophie chimed in.

“He was killed by a wheat thresher.” Sarah sobbed.

Max was torn. He wanted nothing but to comfort her. His eyes began to water, too, “That’s a terrible thing for them to say of the dead. You don’t seem the type to be married to a degenerate like that.”

Sophie seemed more curious, “What do you think? How did he really die?”