Deathscape Read Online Free PDF Page B

Then he glared at her, black thunder on his face. “What the hell happened here?”
    A cop? She stared. She didn’t know this one. He hadn’t come around with the rest last year.
    She scrambled for something to say, but the paramedics shuffled her out of the way before she could answer.
    Captain Bing herded her toward the kitchen. “Where did you find him?”
    “ At the back of the property, not far from where we talked.”
    One of the other policemen, Joe, she seemed to remember the name, loped over. He had the lean body of an athlete, different from Bing’s more built strength. He didn’t have any shadows in his eyes yet, hadn’t been on the force for long. He’d just started back when they’d lost Dylan.
    “ Joe, you go out with Miss Price,” Bing ordered.” She’ll show you where she found Jack. I’m staying with him.”
    She didn’t dare leave the cops alone in her house.
    “ You won’t need me.” She swallowed as nerves shot through her. “Turn right at the corner, a hundred feet maybe before you get to the next intersection, you’ll see my tracks in the snow. The spot is by the creek a few hundred yards in, next to a six-foot rock. It’s the only boulder on the property. Can’t really miss it.” She held her breath.
    Bing narrowed his eyes as he looked at her but then nodded, and Joe took off.
    “ Seen anyone else nearby?” The captain pulled out a notebook and a pen. He had a thing about taking meticulous notes. She remembered that.
    “ No.”
    “ When did you find him?”
    “ Fifteen minutes ago. Maybe twenty.”
    “ Why didn’t you call sooner?”
    “ I didn’t have my cell phone with me.”
    He flashed her a look full of suspicion. He’d probably be happy if he could make her pay at last, for anything, since she hadn’t had to pay for little Dylan. He’d made it clear how he felt about that. He was fourth-generation local, his family deeply connected to farming.
    He didn’t like outsiders coming in, buying up land, then letting it go to seed. He’d let her know that as well. He had a bleak opinion of city folks, all of whom he viewed as having come here specifically to give the locals grief and cause trouble.
    When she’d been involved in the death of the child of one of his friends, Ashley had shot straight to the top of the captain’s shit list. She did her best to stay out of his way, give no excuse for as much as a speeding ticket. And she’d managed until now.
    He looked at her dirty, bloody fingers. “How did you find him, exactly?”
    She crossed her arms to hide her hands. “Saw some disturbed ground. Saw the corner of the shower curtain.” She swallowed. “I thought maybe someone was burying garbage on my land. When I tugged on the plastic, a hand came out.”
    “ What were you doing out there?”
    “ I was looking for a good spot to paint. I painted the creek before.”
    Her response stopped him for a second. He seemed unsure how to ask an insinuating question about that. Then he found his footing. “Do you know Jack Sullivan?”
    She glanced at the unconscious man by her front door. The paramedics were loading him onto a gurney, an IV bag hooked to each arm.
    “ No.”
    “ You still live alone?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ Any visitors in the last couple of days?” He was taking notes.
    On what? She hadn’t given him anything. “My father and my daughter.”
    “ Seen anyone around, back in the woods?”
    “ No.”
    “ Have you seen or heard anything suspicious at all earlier, anything out of place?”
    She shook her head.
    “ And you just went out there to look at trees?” He seemed to have a problem with that part of the story.
    “ It’s like—” She grasped for an artsy explanation that would discourage further inquisition. “Paul Klee said that when he was drawing, he was just taking a line for a walk. Works the other way around too. Sometimes my lines take me for a walk.” A walk straight to hell.
    He wrote the name Paul Klee in capital letters,