A Living Grave Read Online Free PDF Page A

There would be no closing the pit for these people. For the moment I was glad the sheriff would be talking with the parents. It was a brave and honest thing for him to deliver the news himself. He deserved respect.
    That’s what the drive does for me, perspective. I had gotten on the road thinking only of how Sheriff Benson had slowed me down and gotten in my way. I need a lot more perspective in my life.
    I wasn’t going to get it on that drive, it seemed. At the same time, the cell rang again and I came around a bend to see a man fire up a loud pipe Harley and tear ass away from an older crew-cab pickup on the side of the road. That wasn’t so alarming, but the body lying in front of the truck was.
    The phone call was the same one I had ignored before, and it was easy to ignore again. I crossed over the highway and parked facing traffic in the same dirt cutout as the pickup truck. Before leaving the SUV I called in the location and requested an ambulance. I also asked for a BOLO— be on the lookout —for the Harley and the biker. I didn’t see the patch on his vest, but that’s the nice thing about club bikers. Even if you don’t see the colors their look is like a uniform. If he stays on the road we’ll get him.
    When I stepped from my vehicle the man on the ground grunted a hard, achy-sounding breath into the dirt. He followed with a series of hacking coughs coming up from deep in his chest. Once the coughing passed, his hands scrabbled out in the dirt, rocks, and trash looking for a place to land before pushing his body up. His shaved head was smeared with blood running from a wound in his scalp. It was ugly and there was no telling if he had any damage to his neck.
    â€œI don’t think you should try getting up just yet, sir,” I told him.
    He ignored me long enough to push up onto his hands and knees. His head remained dangling from his shoulders like it weighed just too much to lift. Then he spit a bloody glob into the dirt.
    â€œWho the hell are you?” he asked, still without looking up.
    I told him and he nodded his head in a vague waggle. “Nice boots,” he said. “Lady cop?”
    â€œI’m a cop.”
    He laughed a little, but it turned into coughing. He looked like he was fighting to control that as well as to keep his head still. When it passed, he asked, “That mean you’re not a lady?”
    â€œIt means I’m a cop and it’s all that matters in this situation.”
    Once again he spit out the blood pooling in his mouth. There wasn’t as much this time. “Only reason I ask was, the footwear didn’t seem to match the voice. You’re Hurricane, aren’t you?”
    â€œMy name is Detective Katrina Williams.”
    â€œHurricane,” he said bluntly. “I’ve heard of you. I don’t suppose you got them?”
    â€œThe guy got away on his bike but I got a call out. We’ll find him. EMTs are on their way too. You just relax.”
    â€œGuy?”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œYou said guy. There was only one?”
    â€œThat’s all I saw.”
    â€œMe too, but it felt like a whole herd.”
    â€œHerd?”
    This time when he laughed he put a little more head into it. Before he spoke again he spit out another mouthful of blood. “Collective noun,” he said. “You know how a group of crows is a murder. A flock of ravens isn’t a flock. It’s an unkindness. Then there’s a shrewdness of apes. When I was lying here I decided that I had been kicked to pieces by a herd of bastards.”
    â€œWell, aren’t you the interesting one?”
    â€œI know,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice now. “Why would anyone want to give me a beatdown? I’m just a harmless, interesting guy.” He lifted his head and looked up at me for the first time. As soon as he did he winced at the pain and started coughing again.
    â€œTake it