The German Read Online Free PDF Page B

body.
    “The Mexicans cleaned him like a deer,” Blevins said, seemingly unaffected by the observation. He spoke with all the assurance of a man who’d predicted a hurricane and survived its landing. “That’s how they do,” he continued.
    Rex dropped a hand on Tom’s shoulder, startling him and sending his heart to racing. Tom inhaled deeply and pulled away, turned to his deputy, who looked as ill as Tom felt.
    “You got a plan?” Rex asked.
    “I’m going to talk to Jerome. Once Don gets himself together, you two see what you can make of this.”
    “I can’t make nothing of this, Tom. This isn’t right.”
    “Do your job, Rex. Find what you can find.” Tom stepped away from his deputy and approached Blevins. Blevins’s full cheeks wore two days of beard, and his forehead gleamed beneath the brim of his hat as if polished. The man appeared so calm and unaffected; Tom didn’t know what to make of it. “Jerome, can you tell me what brought you out here this morning?”
    “It’s my property, Sheriff Rabbit,” Blevins said. “I’ve got the right to walk my own property.”
    “Yes, you do,” Tom agreed. “But this doesn’t seem like the most reasonable place to take a stroll, so I’m just wondering why you came out this way.”
    “That’s my business,” Blevins said. His eyes hardened and the corners of his mouth ticked down. “Best keep your mind on the Mexicans that done this to Harold Ashton.”
    Tom knew that Blevins had a history of bootlegging; it was about the only thing that had kept him and his family fed during the hard years. He imagined Jerome maintained a still or two, probably one nearby, and though Tom had absolutely no interest in a shine shop and wasn’t going to press for details, he’d need a better answer from Blevins for his report.
    “What makes you think Mexicans were involved?”
    “No American would do that to a boy.”
    “Have you seen any strangers on your land recently? In the last few weeks?”
    “No, sir, but I got a lot of land. Can’t watch it all.”
    Tom nodded and looked around the woods, the density of trees, the difficulty in navigating the terrain. He cast another glance at the Ashton boy’s body and winced. As Blevins had heartlessly noted, Harold had been gutted. From what Tom could see, his killer had completely hollowed him out, leaving ragged lips of skin around a gaping hole just below Harold’s rib cage. Rex and Don knelt at the side of the corpse, taking turns swatting flies that insisted on returning for a meal and a place to nest their larva, neither deputy seeming to know what to do with the body but stare.
    “What’s back that way?” Tom asked, nodding to the west.
    “Just more woods.”
    He looked deep into the forest, then back to the corpse. Harold had been missing for two weeks, but he didn’t look to have been dead nearly that long – only a few days, Tom would guess. Considering the summer’s heat, it might have been less. There was no blood in the immediate area and no signs of the meaty things the killer had removed, plus he hadn’t been gone over by any of the toothier inhabitants of the area, which seemed to indicate that Harold had been murdered elsewhere and then carried out here to Blevins woods to be dumped, but why had the killer gone to so much trouble?
    Tom walked away from Jerome and began investigating the path on the far side of the tree where Harold had been left. Blevins hurried to his side and tossed his shotgun into his left hand, grabbing Tom with his right.
    “I already been back that way this morning. Ain’t nothing to see.”
    “Maybe you didn’t know what you were looking for,” Tom said.
    “This here is my property, Sheriff, and I say who goes where. You ain’t going to find any Mexicans out that way.”
    Tom spun on Jerome, knocking the man’s hand off his shoulder with a violent slap. Anger burned through him, acid in his veins. It came out of nowhere, scorching away his reason.
    “I am