The road turned to dirt, then drifted back down the mountain to the east before heading north and up again toward the most desolate part of the island. These steep, gray-brown hillsides once were home to goat herders who could afford no better land, but even they long ago abandoned their little stone-fenced fields in favor of other places. For almost a century no one had wanted to be here. Too far out of town, too much wind, too little – if any – water.

Now, a recent island-wide ban on new construction on land without an existing foundation made an even long-abandoned, goat herder's shed valuable. Using an appropriately connected contractor to obtain – for a price – the necessary permits, you could 'finish' construction and truck in all the fresh water you wanted along the new road. All you needed was the money.

Andreas remembered old mines around here down by the sea. Some sort of mineral used in oil drilling – barite, maybe. He wondered if they still operated. Abandoned mines were great for hiding bodies. On an island like this, though, there had to be hundreds of places to get rid of one – if you had time to plan – but he knew murders rarely took place where the murderer would like them to. That meant moving the body or leaving it where the killer hadn't planned. Either way left clues. Most murders were poorly thought out beyond the decision to kill – unless, of course, professionals or terrorists were involved.

Then again, this was an island, and the best place to get rid of a body was the sea. No one would ever find one tossed in the sea if you knew how to keep it from popping up. Thankfully, most killers didn't have that skill – though Andreas was pretty sure that on an island of fishermen most Mykonians would know how or have a relative who did.

Just past a steep switchback, the road tied in to an older, badly beat-up dirt road coming around from the other side of the mountain.