Buried Slaughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

thing.
    Brian stared into the trench. His heart pounded. He’d heard about the “horrific scenes of mutilation” on the news last night, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw.
    “Archeological dig site. Somebody shows up completely out of the blue yesterday morning and…‌and well, does this. Only one of ‘um survives. He’s traumatised.” DI Marlow stared down into the trench. He was a well-built man with a grey beard, about Brian’s age, perhaps a little older. Brian hadn’t really minded Marlow the few times he’d come into contact with him. He’d only moved to Preston towards the end of Brian’s stint there, which was a shame because he seemed like a good old-fashioned detective. He chewed on a piece of gum, his jaw clicking with every bite. He didn’t seem particularly fazed by what he saw.
    Brian took a few moments to take it all in again. Feet, shin bones, thigh bones, arms, all in a circle at the bottom of the dig site.
    And in the centre, piled on top of one another, seven heads.
    “And you…‌you have no idea what…‌why…‌?” David Wallson’s hand shook as he held his camera. He hadn’t quite mustered up the courage to get a shot yet.
    DI Marlow sighed. “Forensics from Burnley are identifying the heads and bones. Nothing else showing up though. The killer was very professional. Not even a trace of the missing torsos or murder weapon. Or all the muscle and flesh off the bones. Whoever did this cleaned up very well. But anyway, we’re gonna have a chat with our one witness, Darren Anderson, when he’s calmed down again. The man’s completely rattled. Doesn’t want any media coverage or owt. Whoever did this…‌fuck. Sick fuck.”
    Brian squinted at the bones and the severed heads. All of the eyes were open wide, as if they’d been forced that way. Blood had trickled down their detached necks and onto the faces of those below, so that it looked like the victims were crying blood. Loose leaves drifted from the forest in the distance, falling into the trench and scraping over the bones.
    “This witness. How did he survive?”
    “I’m sorry,” DI Marlow said. “But what authority do you have asking questions here?”
    Brian lowered his head. Marlow was right. He didn’t have any authority here. “I’m just…‌I’m curious. That’s all.”
    “You don’t have to pretend to be anonymous to me, Brian.”
    Brian lifted his head. Marlow half-smiled.
    “I know what you did. Letting another officer die to save your own neck like that. But you’re a good cop. That doesn’t just vanish. So I’ll tell you. Because it’s you, I’ll tell you.” He peered at David Wallson with his baggy eyes. “As long as this fuck gets back behind the yellow tape, where he belongs.”
    “Oh, come on,” David said. “I’m the reason he’s‌—‌”
    “I’m fine with that,” Brian said. He smiled at David as a pair of officers pushed him out of the crime scene and amongst the rest of the journalists.
    “You want to be careful keeping company like that,” DI Marlow said. “People might start questioning your integrity.”
    Brian kept quiet. He thought his integrity was under scrutiny long ago.
    “Anyway, the witness‌—‌Darren Anderson‌—‌he says he was working in this trench when it…‌yeah. When it happened. Gunshots. Didn’t see the rest.”
    “Lucky,” Brian said.
    “Very lucky.”
    “The archeological group. What were they here for, anyway?”
    DI Marlow sighed and pulled out his phone. “Davidson Archeological Contractors. Group of eight headed out here to search for some old shit a week ago. Looks like something beat them to it.”
    Brian walked over to the side of the trench opposite again. He stared down at the severed heads, and at the bones, perfectly aligned.
    “I just don’t understand all this show. I mean, excuse me for calling a massacre ‘show’, but that’s exactly what it looks like. Why would somebody do this? For laughs, or