Murder in the Smokies - By Paula Graves Page 0,51

reigned, rendered even blacker when compared with those oases of light.

Ahead, Ivy was little more than a compact silhouette creeping through the gloom. She’d changed out of her work suit into a pair of dark jeans and a black cotton sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places but served as a successful bit of camouflage in the night. From behind, he could see only the pale flesh of her hands and the occasional flash of skin beneath the wavy mass of her ponytail.

From the angle where they were, the corner of the office building nearly hid the cleaning bay from view. Only the back end of the truck remained visible as they moved closer. So far, nobody had gotten out to open the truck and commence with the washing.

Ivy slowed to a stop at the corner and Sutton slipped into place behind her. One hand reached out behind her, as if to reassure herself he was there. He touched her fingers, and she squeezed hers around his for a moment, before drawing away to sneak a peek around the corner.

She ducked back quickly, flattening herself against the building as a man came into view. He was tall and lean, in his early forties and dressed in dirty gray coveralls spotted with what looked, in the artificial light, like splashes of ink.

“Let him show us what’s inside,” Ivy whispered, her voice little more than a breath against his cheek.

The man unlocked the back door of the truck, stepping back quickly as he swung it open. Thick, dark red liquid began to trickle out immediately, aided by gravity from the truck’s slightly inclined position.

Sutton’s gut tightened. Even from the distance of several feet, the sickly metallic odor was unmistakable.

Blood.

Chapter Twelve

For a moment, Sutton thought Ivy was going to slingshot out from the shelter of the building and take down the man by herself. But even as her muscles bunched to strike, she swung around suddenly toward him, her eyes glimmering in the low light.

“No jurisdiction,” she breathed, even that tiny bit of sound thick with frustration.

He hadn’t even thought of jurisdiction, he realized. He’d been too focused on getting a better look at what the man was up to.

“I don’t need jurisdiction,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the delicate curve of cartilage.

She clutched the front of his shirt. “Sutton—”

He pressed a swift kiss on her forehead and moved out into the open, keeping his hand on the Glock. He walked quietly, his gaze on the man who now stood with his back to the building, watching the blood drip out of the inclined truck.

“May I help you?” Sutton asked.

The man jumped at the sound of Sutton’s voice, and he whirled to face him. “Who are you?”

“Security,” Sutton answered. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh.” The man relaxed. “Look, I know this is after hours, but I’ve done this before and nobody ever complained, so I didn’t think—” He stopped rambling and took a deep breath. “The butcher was late getting to my hogs, which meant I was late getting them to the meat market. I couldn’t wait till morning, see? I don’t have cold storage anywhere big enough.”

Sutton listened to the man’s explanation, studying his body language with a practiced eye. He seemed relaxed enough, if a little flustered. “What’s your name?”

“David Pennock. My brothers and I run Pennock Farm over in Walland.”

“Nice place.” Ivy came into the open, her weapon holstered and her hands by her sides. “I went to college in Chattanooga with your brother a few years back.”

Pennock’s smile looked friendly. “Must’ve been Kevin. Only one of us with a damn bit of brains.”

“You’ve done this before?” Sutton asked.

“You mean clean out the truck after hours?” Pennock nodded. “Not real often, but sometimes if things get backed up at Merchant Brothers—that’s the butcher we use—we get behind delivering the fresh cuts of meat to the area markets that carry our products.”

“Aren’t there sanitation rules about carrying raw meat?” Ivy asked, moving around the truck to look at the open doors at the back. Sutton crossed to her side and looked into the truck.

There were large electric coolers built into the inner walls of the truck, he saw. “If you carry the meat products in there, why is there all this blood in the truck?”

“One of our pallets broke when we were loading a couple of dressed whole hogs—we have a couple of customers who prefer to do the processing themselves, so we let Merchant