Scratchgravel Road Read Online Free PDF

picked up.
    “Hang on, and I’ll go with you. I have to get out of this heat for a minute,” she said.
    “I’ll drive. You take a break.”
    Josie pulled off her gloves and mask and dropped them on the ground by the body. She would put them in a hazardous waste bag when they got ready to leave. She found hand sanitizer in the evidence kit and rubbed a liberal dose onto her hands before climbing into Otto’s jeep.
    When temperatures hit above ninety they always left one of the cars running to have a cool place to escape the heat. They both sighed at the cool air blowing from the vents. Otto pulled a gallon jug out of a cooler in the backseat and they traded drinks of water before Otto took off to meet Cowan.
    Josie and Otto got out of the car as Cowan was assembling his materials from the back of the station wagon. He was built like an ostrich, with a small head and thin neck that ballooned into a large midsection and ended in stick legs. Josie had always liked Cowan. He appeared to have no joy or humor in his life, but he showed up and did the job to the best of his ability with no complaints. She respected that.
    “Nice day for a murder in the desert.” Cowan looked up from the black medical bag he was packing and glanced briefly at Josie and Otto before returning to his bag.
    “You have a hazmat suit with you?” Josie asked.
    “That I do. And, if I wear it, I will certainly stroke out from heat exhaustion before the examination has even begun. Plastic suits are not very practical on a day like today.”
    “The arms of the dead man are covered with oozing lesions. Doesn’t look good,” she said.
    “Any idea on time of death?” he asked, ignoring Josie’s comment.
    “I’m guessing two days.”
    “Because?”
    “Because there are flies and fly larvae in the eyes and nose,” she said.
    Cowan nodded. “Blowflies, yes. Have they hatched?”
    “No.”
    “Good work, then. You’re probably right. Sounds like about forty-eight hours.”
    “You taught me well,” she said.
    He grunted an acknowledgement and slammed the tailgate shut. He walked past the two of them and got into the backseat of Otto’s jeep. Josie smiled at Otto, who rolled his eyes and got into the driver’s seat.
    “Blowflies don’t typically deposit eggs at night,” Cowan said.
    Josie nodded, still smiling. “So, what are you saying? The time could be off by eight hours?”
    “Blowflies are the best watch a dead man has.”
    “Cowan, you have a unique way with words,” Otto said. He drove cautiously and pulled to a stop beside Josie’s jeep.
    Cowan stepped out of the car without speaking and, wearing his brown dress loafers, trudged awkwardly through the sand. Once he reached the body, he set up a plastic tarp and his equipment. He then performed a cursory examination that included his own set of 35-millimeter photographs. He was able to turn the body over and Josie asked him to check the man’s pockets for identification. When he found none, she stepped back over to wait with Otto. After another twenty minutes Cowan turned to face Otto and Josie, who were standing in the narrow shade of a mesquite bush, waiting impatiently to get out of the heat.
    Under the rolls of deep-set wrinkles running across his forehead, Cowan’s customary sad expression had turned grave. “Two things. First, cause of death was most likely blunt force trauma to the head. Bruising on the back of his skull indicates he was hit with a heavy object, and with considerable force. The injury wasn’t caused accidentally or by a fall.”
    “But the injury could have caused death?” Josie asked.
    “Certainly. I’m not ready to rule it as his cause of death, but I wouldn’t rule it out either,” Cowan said. “Second, I’ve never seen necrotizing fasciitis in person, but the lesions certainly fit the description.”
    “What is it?” Otto asked.
    “It’s a bacterial infection. Rare. It destroys skin, tissue, fat, and muscle. Regardless, the flesh is