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He followed my gaze up and we both stared at the blowflies going in and out of the broken hayloft door. Jack took his weapon out of the holster and flipped off the safety with his thumb. He gestured me to move behind him and this once I decided not to argue. I’d left my gun back at the house. It was the first time I’d been without it in months, and I hadn’t even realized I was missing it as I’d left. I didn’t like the feel of being helpless. I knew Jack would protect me with his life, but he shouldn’t have to. What if he was the one who needed protection? Love and trust was a two-way street, and I hated that I felt like I’d dropped the ball.
“Jack—I’m”
“You didn’t,” he said in that uncanny way he had of knowing what I was going to say. I’d been about to apologize for letting him down when he pulled my little Beretta out of his pocket and handed it to me. “We left in a hurry this morning and you left it by the nightstand. There’s no one I’d rather have watching my back.”
I grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him down for a short kiss. “I love you,” I said.
“I know. But it’s nice to hear you say it first for a change.”
Jack removed the padlock and stuck it in his jacket pocket, and then he pulled out the wooden slat that had been shoved through the handles to keep the doors closed. The wood was warped and swollen from the recent rain, and he had to jiggle it to get it loose. But once he got it out, the doors fell open with an ominous creak to display the dark cavern inside.
The smell assaulted me—death. It washed over my body in thick waves, and the flies seemed to thicken around us as if we were drenched in honey instead of decay. I’d smelled worse things, but not many.
“Jesus,” Jack said, his face set in harsh lines as we stepped inside. We both breathed with shallow pants—the kind of breathing technique only people who’d been around the dead had perfected.
The inside of the barn had been gutted so the stalls were gone, and the rectangular discoloration on floors was the only reminder they’d existed. It was darker inside, but light streamed through the door behind us enough that we could see we’d found what we were looking for. Jack pulled his Maglite from his belt and turned it on. On second glance, the barn was in better shape than it looked on the outside. The windows had been boarded up, and the walls were patched so no one could see in or out.
The floors were wooden and covered in remnants of hay and dust, but some of the boards had been pulled up in certain areas so only the dark earth was visible beneath. It was easier to let blood flow into the ground than try to wash it off a solid surface.
Thick wooden beams were lined three on each side as supports and rafters were spaced evenly above, so the hayloft was reinforced. A hose was attached to the faucet on the wall, and thedrip, drip, dripof water splashed against a metal bucket beneath it. Ropes and pulleys were attached at different intervals, and it was all too easy to imagine the atrocities that had taken place inside.
“Jesus,” I whispered as chills broke out over my skin. I’d never seen anything like it. And I’d seena lotof terrible things in my career.
“Everything’s still here,” Jack said.
He picked up the leather belt on the floor and held it up. Tied to the end was a rusted piece of scrap metal crusted with blood. They’d beaten Daniel Oglesby and Julie Lawrence with that tool as they’d hung from one of the rafters, probably praying for death to come soon.
A wooden ladder was propped against the wall, and it led up to the hole that had been crudely cut out to enter the hayloft. I swiped at the flies and headed towards the ladder, slinging my bag across my body as I went. Jack followed behind me and kept his gun in his hand. The ladder was rough against my gloves, and sharp slivers of wood pierced through the latex.
The smell grew stronger the higher I climbed, and it was hot as hell, so by the time I reached the top it was like going into a thick cloud of steaming death. The flies swarmed like mad and sweat coated my skin.
I pulled myself through the little hole and into the hayloft. It wasn’t a big space—maybe twelve feet on each side. The floor was particleboard that had been nailed into the rafters below. Railroad ties were nailed into the wall, and old tools hung from them.
It was hard to miss the remains of Doc Randall. He’d just been a little old man who’d made a bad decision. And this is how he’d ended up, crumpled in a heap like garbage in the corner.
“It’s him,” I said as Jack’s head popped through the hole behind me and he climbed up.
I took off my bag and dumped my jacket on the ground before stripping off the outer sweater I wore. Jack stripped off his flannel shirt so he was down to his shirtsleeves.
I dug around in my bag and came out with a couple of surgical masks. Jack declined the one I held out for him, but I went ahead and put mine on. There was nothing like having flies that had been feasting on a rotting corpse tickle at your nostrils and mouth.
I kneeled beside Doc Randall and had just started to examine the body when all hell broke loose. I heard a gunshot in the distance at the same time I felt the rafters shake below. The barn doors slammed shut, and Jack pointed his gun to the ceiling and stayed to the edges of the room as he tried to look out the broken hayloft door. A crack of gunfire sounded, and splinters of wood exploded around his face just as he dropped to the ground.
“Jack,” I yelled, staying low as I crawled over to him.
“I’m not hit,” he said. His temple bled profusely where a piece of wood had cut him, and I tried to staunch the bleeding, but he pushed my hand away. “There’s no time. Let’s get out of here.”
“But Doc Randall—”
“He’s dead, Jaye. We’ll come back for him later. If we’re alive.”
I hurried down the steps as fast as I could go, stumbling into darkness, and Jack dropped down beside me almost before my feet had touched the ground.
“I can’t see,” I yelled, panic starting to close in on me.
“Look there. You can see the light coming from under the doors. Run. Now.”
We ran for the barn doors, and Jack rammed his shoulder against them—once—twice—but they didn’t budge.
