All That Remains - R.J. Scott Page 0,8
my liaisons with less than wholesome dark web contacts, he’d arrest me on the spot.
Back to the sexy part, though. He held himself straight, confident, but there was something about him that made me think he wasn’t comfortable standing with Sawyer and the others. He kept checking over the people huddled with their morbid gawking, and at one point, our gazes locked, and he stared right at me before he went on to focusing elsewhere. He was distracted, and only Sawyer touching his arm brought him back to the present. More discussion and then Logan left before returning with a medical bag. After a hurried conversation, Sawyer, Drew, Logan, and Federal Agent Lucas Beaumont left in the direction of Iron Lake.
Probably down to Adam Gray’s place.
“Where do you think they're going?” Nicky asked everyone in general, but I wasn’t going to suggest Adam Gray as an option right now, not when there was a journalist in my peripheral vision, and the remaining official at the grisly hand scene was Heather, who stared down at it as if she expected it to move. She pulled out her cell, and a few moments later, Tate came out of the police department and headed her way. He was the PD admin genius who kept the town’s police in line, and he had some kind of tent folded in his hand. In a few shakes, it was up and protecting the evidence, also forming an effective barrier from the prying eyes of the crowd and to the ravages of Mother Nature, who was doing her best to burn everything before drenching it in rain.
The group of gawkers, and I included myself in that, began to disperse, but I stayed until it was me and the boys, Heather, and Tate. Until Sandoval sauntered over and I stiffened.
“They gone now?” he asked Heather, but Heather ignored him, and I moved again between Sandoval and her immediately, keeping my back to him.
“Civilians messing up things. Nothing gets done right anymore,” Sandoval muttered, and only when I saw Heather relax did I know he was leaving. “No one listens to me.”
“Twice he’s tried to get inside the cordon and comment,” she murmured.
"Are you okay?" I asked Heather, and she nodded. “Can I do anything to help?”
She blinked at me, then shook her head. “We don't have the manpower,” she blurted, then from her expression, she regretted her outburst and schooled her features into calm.
“Shouldn't we have the coroner here?” I asked as gently as I could.
Tate answered, “We only found it twenty minutes ago. He's on his way.” He pulled a bottle of water from a bag and handed it to Heather, patting her arm.
“Whose hand is it?” Marco asked, and Heather went pale. I herded Marco and Harry together and away from the scene quickly.
“You’ve seen enough.”
“But, Dad—”
“Uncle Josh—”
“Beat it!” I warned, and with a shove and a stumble, the two of them ran off toward the hotel, where I knew they’d hole up and talk conspiracy theories for the rest of the day. My son had his mom’s imagination and was spending way too much time chatting to Chris, who'd recently moved in with Sawyer. Chris was a horror author, and I genuinely believed that one day Harry, with his vivid imagination, could write a book. Of course, he’d have to pass English first, and when it came to the academic subjects of math and English, he was—challenged—he was a doer, not a thinker. He was a gifted artist like his mom and had my athletic build. He and the school system weren’t a good fit, not like me. I’d faked my way through school, not even tried, got in so much trouble, and was still destined for college with my love of math. Then I’d gone and fucked it up and gotten Sadie pregnant when we were still kids.
Only not really fucked up.
Becoming a dad as a teenager had become the best thing to ever happen to me.
I hovered a bit longer by the tent, kept a pale Heather company, chatting about everything and nothing. Both of us watched as paramedics arrived but didn’t stop, driving past us toward Iron Lake. I stayed until the coroner and his assistant arrived at the scene, and then I sauntered back to the hotel. Harry and Marco were in their usual place; sitting on stools and reading comics behind the desk in reception. Harry glanced up as I came in.
“I’ve done my homework,” he protested before I even