Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
We move as a mass toward the mouth of the road leading to the graveyard of soaked blackened sticks. Firefighters mull around the barn’s carcass. The land around the structure is so wet and muddy, the ground squeaks upon approach.
A fair-haired man in a tailored suit sticks out like a sore thumb among the state troopers and firefighters. His strides are quick and long as he rushes over to meet us.
“Can I ask what y’all think you’re doing here?” he yells.
“Lieutenant Harris, Knoxville PD,” my boss says, flashing his badge. “We have a warrant to search this property.”
“As you can see, Lieutenant, we’ve been dealing with a situation of our own.”
“I can see you’ve got the fire department trampling all over my crime scene,” Harris says.
The blond man flashes his pearly whites. “I certainly hope you’ve got evidence to back up that statement, lieutenant.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say to the man in the suit.
“Gerald Koons,” he says. “I’m with the governor’s office. Now, will someone please tell me what this is concerning?”
“We have reason to believe a crime has been committed here,” Harris says. He nods to the state troopers and firefighters. “Call those men away from the building.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell y’all who owns this property,” Koons says. This smarmy motherfucker’s obviously been sent here because the governor was expecting us to show.
“I encourage you to tread very carefully, lieutenant,” Koons says. “Is this something you really want to pursue?”
I watch Lieutenant Harris closely. There’s no doubt in my mind that this fire was set deliberately—a last-ditch effort to destroy any physical evidence that could back up McKenzie’s story.
“I don’t request a warrant without knowing whose door I’m busting down,” Harris says. “Larkin, Coates, take a forensic team up there to search the grounds.”
Gerald Koons smirks and waves his hand for us to pass. Steam wafts off the blackened boards. Most of the smoke has dissipated since the fire was put out, but the air is still hazy.
“The remaining structure isn’t safe,” one firefighter says. “Unless you have proper gear, I wouldn’t get too close.”
Abby instructs the forensic team to begin a sweep of the surrounding area. I slip on a pair of latex gloves and squat down low, looking for footprints. I see plenty, the majority of which no doubt belongs to the firefighters who put out the blaze.
“The place is fucking trashed,” Abby says. “Whatever was here is gone now.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up before I register Holly shout my name. I turn and see McKenzie sprinting up the drive, toward the steaming barn, with Holly and Austin hot on her tail.
I grab hold of McKenzie before she gets too close, turning her away from the barn. She screams. I whisper, “It’s okay... You’re okay. But it’s not safe for you to be over here.”
“It’s gone,” she says, her lip trembling. “It’s all gone...”
Holly looks like she’s seconds away from bursting into tears herself. “Kenz...”
I let McKenzie go, but stay on guard in case she decides to bolt. She drops to her hands and knees in the mud. Her cry is guttural, animalistic, as she rocks back and forth. Austin kneels to one side of her, with Holly on the other. They speak softly to her, but she doesn’t seem to hear them.
Abby shakes her head. “She shouldn’t be here, Cal. This is too much for her.”
“Austin,” I say. “Take her back to the truck.”
“Wait,” Holly says, leaning in closer to her friend. “What did you say, Kenzie?”
McKenzie wheezes, then slowly lifts her arm. She points to something. I follow the path of her finger, my gaze catching on something metallic. I stride over to the spot. The grass in this area is taller, the blade tips gray with ash. But the ground itself is dryer than the area directly surrounding the barn.
I kneel down and spread the grass apart. Sticking out of the mud is a half silver heart, curved slightly, and stained brown with something that looks a hell of a lot like dried blood.
“Holly,” I say, motioning for her to come have a look.
I don’t even have to prompt her before she says, “That’s Kenzie’s necklace.”
“Lieutenant,” I call out. “We’ve got something here.”
Harris comes jogging over. As soon as he sees the necklace, he calls for the forensic team to photograph and bag it.
“Goddamn,” Abby says in disbelief.
“Looks like there might be a partial fingerprint,” Harris says. “With any luck, it’ll be in the database.”
McKenzie hasn’t moved, or even lifted her head, except to continue rocking. Austin remains beside her, whispering words I can’t hear from this distance. I take Holly’s hand and pull her aside.
“Sweetheart,” I say, “I need you to ask McKenzie if she remembers which way she ran into the woods.”
She glances at her friend. “I don’t know if she can answer that right now.”