Where Angels Rest Read Online Free PDF Page A

coming?”
    Nick could just make out the sign for the Carroll County line through the mist behind him. The knot of dread loosened just a touch. “Hell, no. This is
your
county.”
    Bell and three deputies pulled up within minutes.
    “I could’ve lived a long time without another one of these talks with parents,” Bell said. He’d been sheriff for thirty years. Had seen more than one young driver in a heap on the road.
    Maybe never one that wasn’t an accident, though. Nick closed his eyes. Stop it. She’d probably gagged on a piece of chewing gum, pulled off the road, and clambered up the embankment in a panic. An autopsy would find a lump of hard candy or gum in her throat; a search of the car would find the wrapper. Case closed.
    One of Bell’s deputies produced a driver’s license from the purse in the Camry. “Carrie Sitton,” he read, “born ten-twelve-ninety-three. From Cleveland.” He pushed a button on her cell phone and shook his head. “No calls last night.”
    Bell walked to the front of the car and looked at the bumper just grazing the tree. His gaze followed a trodden path from there to where Carrie’s body now lay. “You hit her right there?” he asked Nick.
    “She was out further in the road, facedown, I’d say, from the way the rain washed off the back of her clothes. My wheels must’ve bumped her over.”
    “Looks like she dragged herself up here. But that car couldn’t’ve been going more than five or ten miles an hour when it hit the tree. Why didn’t she walk?” Bell stoppedat the body. He reached down and fingered her collar back from her throat. Nothing. He tugged a little further to expose the back of her neck.
    Bruises.
    Nick’s gut tightened. He cursed and walked away, putting space between himself and the dead girl. Not his problem. Nick didn’t chase murderers anymore; he chased possums.
    Bell took a few more minutes with the scene then walked over to Nick. He took off his hat. “We don’t have murders in Carroll County.”
    “We don’t have murders in Hopewell County, either,” Nick said. Time to go. Guns and tequila waiting.
    “Whoa. All those years as a bigwig in L.A.,” Bell said. “You’ve worked more murder cases than anyone in this state.”
    “Past tense. This one’s yours, Anson. Are you finished with me?”
    “What’s your hurry?”
    “No hurry, just on my way to my cabin.”
    Bell hiked his brows, then looked at Nick’s truck, where a deputy had been shooting pictures, checking the undercarriage. There was no reason to doubt Nick’s story, but there was no reason not to, either. Taking pictures was the right thing to do.
    Bell said, “That cabin of yours borders Weaver’s Clay Mine to the north, right?”
    “Right. On Lake Barrow, about an hour from here.”
    “So if I were gonna try to reach you—”
    “He’ll be hunting,” the deputy with the camera said, joining them. He shrugged at Nick. “I saw the guns in your truck.”
    “Right. Hunting,” Nick said. “I’ll be back on Monday.By then, you’ll either have this all wrapped up or you’ll have a helluva lot of questions for me.”
    Friday, November 9
    Bradford Hospital, Starke, FL
    10:05 a.m.
    Erin woke in a bed, looked around. Her brain felt like damp wool. Everything hurt. She felt like she’d been hit by a—
    The previous night rushed in. Justin—alive. The senator and his wife, Lauren’s family and friends all appalled by the Attorney General’s decision. A stray woman in the parking lot and a car bearing down. A last-second nose-dive toward the fence.
    She closed her eyes, putting the pieces of the week back together. John Huggins was in Ohio: She’d raised enough questions about him that the Attorney General had ordered Ohio authorities to follow up. But there wasn’t much time.
    She looked out the window. It was morning already—she’d been in and out of a daze all night. It was Friday now. The first of Justin’s seven days.
    Dear God, she had to go.
    She pulled