Murder on the Horizon Read Online Free PDF

over any tracks,” Lenny said.
    â€œGrandmother finally called the SO this morning,” Gracie continued.
    â€œWhy would they wait over a day to call it in?” Carrie asked.
    â€œLet’s just say the family doesn’t like law enforcement,” Jon answered.
    â€œThat’s putting it mildly,” Warren added in a low voice.
    â€œThey all live in a big, like, fortress in the woods,” Lenny said, his blue eyes shining.
    â€œCompound,” Jon amended.
    â€œYeah. I heard they have an underground bunker and everything. Like on TV. They’re . . . what do you call ’em?”
    â€œDoomsday preppers.”
    â€œYeah! Doomsday preppers!”
    â€œFriggin’ wing nuts.”
    â€œHey, I watch that show.”
    â€œLet’s stay on task here,” Gracie said, shifting her weight to the other leg to ease her aching ankle. “A missing eleven-year-old is an emergency, regardless of whether he’s a runaway or not. What happened with this kid the last two . . . three times?” She looked up. “Anybody know?”
    â€œFirst time,” Jon said, “Baxter showed up over the river and through the woods at Grandma’s house a half mile orso away from home. They don’t all just get along. Kid told the debriefing SAR member—that would be
moi
—he was holed up at his fort the entire day. Close mouthed about where said fort was. Second time, he was spotted walking along the Boulevard by Maple. He was picked up by a deputy. Third time, who knows?”
    â€œThird time,” Carrie said, “janitor at the high school found him scrounging in one of the Dumpsters for food.”
    â€œOkay then,” Gracie said. “Warren’ll drive the ICP up. Set it up in the parking lot of the park next to the fire station. Corner of Spruce and Clampett.” She looked up. “Who’s driving the ATVs up?”
    Lenny raised his hand.
    â€œGood. You and Warren on ATVs. You both okay with that?”
    Lenny pumped the air with his fist. “Sweet.”
    â€œOkay, boss,” Warren affirmed.
    â€œJon and Carrie. Since the family’s uncooperative, we won’t be able to interview the parents. Grab an MPQ and go talk to the RP, the grandmother.” She looked down at the briefing sheet. “Sharon Edwards. 1058 Oak Street.”
    Jon and Carrie scribbled down the information in pocket-sized notebooks.
    â€œAt least until things get set up in the ICP, Warren is Comms. Mr. Towne?”
    Warren cleared his throat. “MAC10 talk group. I’ll distribute radios to teams when we get on-scene. Those of you who are new on the team and haven’t had the radio training yet, get with a more-experienced member who can show you how to find the right channel.”
    â€œStandard safety message,” Gracie said. “Wear hats and sunscreen.”
    â€œI’ve got mine!” Lenny announced, holding up an enormous economy-sized bottle of generic-brand SPF 110.
    Gracie laughed. “Drink lots of water. Even though it’s an urban environment, keep an eye out for snakes. Don’tforget to sign in. And out. Sheet’s on the table in the squad room. See you all up there.”
    *   *   *
    USING HER MOSTLY full water bottle and the heavy HT radio, Gracie anchored opposing corners of a large laminated street map of the mountain community of Pine Knot, then carefully sat down on the teetery secretarial chair, knowing from past experience it was prone to easily tipping backward. The last thing she needed was for someone—her favorite sergeant, for instance—to walk into the trailer and find her lying on her back on the floor with her legs waving in the air with girlish glee.
    With colored sticky arrows, she indicated on the map the location of the Command Post, then the Last Known Point and Point Last Seen—both the Edwards family compound. “On Gorgonzola?” Gracie