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“My heart stopped beating miles back,” Terry complained.
Ferro looked faintly amused. “You’ll have to forgive the detective. He lives for this kind of thing. It’s what he does in lieu of having an actual life. ”
LaMastra chuckled and leaped out of the car; Ferro followed, bringing with him a large, heavy briefcase.
Terry slowly unstuck his fingers and reached for the door handle. He stepped out of the car in the same shaky way that novices depart a particularly aggressive roller-?coaster ride, placing his feet on the ground as if uncertain that it would hold him.
Officer Rhoda Thomas came jogging over to them, pale and uncertain. She carried a huge shotgun at port arms.
“Okay, Officer, what’s going on?” Ferro asked, cutting right to the chase. “The radio reports were, shall we say, a little disjointed?”
Rhoda looked up into Ferro’s cold eyes. “The others are still down there by the suspect’s vehicle. They wouldn’t let me go down and take a look. ”
“Why’s that?” asked LaMastra.
“Well…Officer Head said that there was a body down there. ”
“Uh-?huh. And?”
“Well,” Rhoda said, licking her lips, “they didn’t say for sure, but I got the impression that it was in a pretty bad state. They wouldn’t say exactly what condition it was in, but when they first came back, they looked really upset. You know…shaken? Then all three of them got sick. ”
“Oh, come on,” said LaMastra, laughing. “Jerry Head and Coralita Toombes getting sick? Get real. ”
Rhoda just looked at him.
Ferro tapped LaMastra on the shoulder. “Let’s go have a look. ”
“What should I do?” Rhoda asked.
“Just stay here. Stay by the radio. Your chief and additional units are just behind us. Send them on down once they get here. ”
“Okay. ”
To Terry, Ferro said, “Do you want to come with us?”
“Not particularly. ” But he went anyway.
When they were within a dozen yards of the crime scene, Ferro called out, “Coming in!”
“Who is it?” Toombes’s voice called tersely.
“Ferro, LaMastra, and Mayor Wolfe. ”
“It’s clear,” the woman called. “Kind of. ”
They entered the clearing and saw the black car squatting there, dottled with dirt and corn pollen and blood. Jimmy Castle sat on the ground, his back against the bumper, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t even look up at them, but the three newcomers each exchanged a glance. They moved around the car to where Toombes and Head stood. Both officers held flashlights, but the beams were pointed at the ground to lead the way for the detectives. The side of the car, where the body lay, was in a dark bank of shadows.
Head stepped forward, clearly intending to block the way so they couldn’t see past him. His face looked strained, lined, and sick; it had paled from a deep brown to a sickly ashen gray. Beads of perspiration jeweled his forehead. He nodded at them. In a soft funeral parlor voice he said, “Sir, the crime scene is still pristine. Also, gentlemen, you really better hike up your balls before you take a look because this is some sick, sorry shit. I mean…I have never seen anything like this. ” He looked at them, his eyes hard and deep. “Never nothing like this. ”
“Let’s just get on with it,” said Ferro sharply, clearly annoyed at Head’s melodramatics.
Head just nodded and stepped aside. He turned and lifted his flashlight, training the powerful beam on the side of the car.
“Oh…” gasped Ferro.
“…my…” breathed LaMastra.
“…God,” murmured Terry.
