All That Remains - R.J. Scott Page 0,4

sprinted back to my car and slipped on the bulletproof vest and removed my weapon from its lock box, then pulled on my suit jacket to cover it all.

By the time I got back, all I could see was the back of the mayor as he walked away, his posture rigid, and he was on the phone.

Maybe he’s ringing the local field office. Oh, to be a fly on that particular wall.

As soon as I was at Sawyer’s side, we headed out, and I fell into a jog with them, wishing I’d not bothered to cover up my vest or holster with the jacket or at least taken off my damn tie. I was melting in this heat, and it was scratchy and uncomfortable around my neck.

“I assume you didn’t expect to be dumped straight into a crime scene, Special Agent Beaumont?” Sawyer asked as we neared what looked like a parking area, with the requisite sign displaying a map of the reservoir that filled the dip of the flooded valley. I knew the topography of this town and the larger West Falls some twenty minutes away from studying Grandpa Toby’s notes, although the reservoir hadn’t been the focus of his research back in the eighties. Or sinkholes. His attention had been on police corruption and their reluctance to talk to him or entertain any of his suggestions that Carmen Kreuger could have been in Lancaster Falls. He’d called the PD an incompetent group of jackasses. I just hoped to hell that had changed since then, but meanwhile, I would keep my wits about me.

“Not really, but please call me Lucas,” I managed between breaths. I was a fit guy, but too many years behind a desk was challenging my ability to keep up with these guys.

“Call me Sawyer,” he replied. “This is Officer Logan Hennessy.”

“Logan,” the man said. My research before I’d come here told me he was a former Army Ranger.

I waited expectantly for the fourth man who seemed as determined and focused to say something. “Drew,” he barked and then strode ahead with us quickening our pace to catch up.

“Drew McGuire?” I murmured to Sawyer.

“Yes.” He side-eyed me as if he expected me to argue with him, and I should’ve been saying that whatever we were heading for was not the place for a civilian, but I saw a flash of something in Sawyer’s expression and backed off. I could only hope my reaction demonstrated that I wasn’t here to mess with Sawyer or his decision-making process. We jogged in silence a little while longer and came to Keep Out notices and more tape that had been torn to one side and coiled on the ground. One of the signs had been shot at, and the other had words crossed out. I heard Sawyer’s sharp intake of breath as he stopped by the first and traced the bullet holes with a finger. “Christ, it’s been used for fucking target practice.”

“Does anyone around here actually follow these no entry rules?” I asked and winced at what passed for passive aggression, which was number twenty-three on the list of things in my head that I needed to avoid. Say what you think. Comment. Don’t suggest. “Apologies. What I mean is, it has to be hard to cordon an area so wild.” Sawyer nodded and allowed Logan and Drew through, then me, before retying the cordon. I heard sirens behind us and assumed it was paramedics called to the scene, or maybe the coroner was faster than light up here?

“We can’t get a vehicle any closer than this parking lot, but the Gray place is about a quarter mile from here.” Sawyer broke into a jog and gave a running commentary about land ownership, and then he gestured at the ground. “This was one of the original trails out of town down to the rail tracks, but the creation of the reservoir, Iron Lake, truncated it, and the whole area fell into disrepair. Now the only person who would need to use it is Adam Gray himself.”

“The possible owner of the hand,” I murmured.

He nodded. We reached a gate, and I could see that there was a fence in the undergrowth, a lot of it obscured by tangled climbing weeds. It had the look of something out of The Walking Dead, makeshift barriers reinforced with lengths of sharp barbed wire, and behind that was a solid metal gate.

“What are we expecting?” Logan shifted his medical bag on his broad shoulders.

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