Entropy Read Online Free PDF Page B

everything behind,” he added.
    â€œIs the bank that foreclosed still operating locally?” I asked.
    â€œNo. It’s going to take a few weeks to get the records,” Mull added. “We have tracked them down, but they’re in another state. Apparently, they’ve merged two or three times since then, so it’s going to take some time to find what we need, and it will be a logistical nightmare. But I doubt that there’s a connection with the people that used to live here and what we found. Yet we still have to do our due diligence, so we can rule it out completely,” he added.
    Foreclosures on dairy and cattle farms were common in this part of the state, especially over the last decade or so, when larger operations opened up in surrounding states. The winters on the East Coast were harder on agriculture than the dry plains or Midlands, and there were very few people who could survive economically anymore. Most farms were only able to produce enough crops to sell for about two months during the entire year. People who had grown up here had immigrated to larger, more developed cities. The job market had been depleted over the last few years, and the technological infrastructure required for most large, advanced companies just didn’t exist. The previous year a pharmaceutical company had backed out of its plans to open up a research center. Attempts to further develop a medical center had also deteriorated. A month earlier, construction was stopped on a scrap metal storage facility.
    The detective signaled the driver to shut off the flashing lights and the car slowly grinded to a halt. I sat in the back seat for a while before getting out. I eventually stepped out, letting the door close but not latch behind me as I circled around to the trunk and lifted it open. I looked over the roof of the car towards the crime scene.
    Cracks and impressions ruined what was a once-quaint concrete path that led up to the front porch of the farmhouse. I shut the trunk and took a few steps away from the. Near the rear of the vehicle, in a ditch was a partial wooden sign that read “fresh vegetables.” Several of the letters were missing. I wondered where the cart or stand had once been, and if anyone had ever driven by this desolate area and bought stalked corn, strawberries or fresh peaches. I remember we had such a stand on the farm where I grew up. When my father wasn’t around, I used to grab one brilliant peach off the stall and run around to the back of our house and sit by the pond, watching the dragonflies skim across the top of the murky water. They used to move so fast, like miniature model planes. I used to let the juice run down my chin. It was always great when no one ever saw me. Sadly, it was the one thing I missed the most when I left home at sixteen. There should have been more.
    A woman in tears was being led away from the barn by an emergency technician towards a waiting ambulance. As soon as she sat down a paramedic slipped an oxygen mask over her face. Her breathing was quick and shallow. I saw the word “forensics” stenciled across the breast of her black coat. I took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness that suddenly developed in my chest, brought on by the densely pensive atmosphere, and the disruptive familiarity of the farm that, unfortunately for me, came with it.
    I looked down at my feet as I stumbled because of the large tree roots. The ground was ridden with them. It was as if someone had murdered history and buried its body here a long time ago, only that it was now beginning to grow and spread and break through the earth, like a bulb. Everything that I had tried so desperately to forget about my childhood and the past was rushing across my body, like the cold waters off the coast of Canada, where once again, I would have given anything to have been.
    Water could teach you how to break if you let it.
    â€œLet Forensics finish doing their work