AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nothing about this killer makes sense.”
We hang around for another fifteen minutes before heading out the door and bump into a tall stack of muscles, dark hair with a brooding face that I know all too well.
“Mitch,” I say, slapping his hand before pulling him in for a partial embrace. He’s clad in a suit, his usual attire for a pick up, and looks as if he’s had a long day already. He’s less than a year older than me, miles smarter, and has always had better luck with the ladies.
“Fallon, this is my brother that I was telling you about, Mitch Decker.”
Mitch tips his head and moans just loud enough for me to hear as he holds out a hand her way.
“Don’t tell me this knucklehead brought you to the county coroner’s office for a date.”
Fallon laughs once again, a bright belly laugh, and I’m starting to get offended.
“Special Agent Fallon Baxter,” she says, shaking his hand. “This knucklehead is my new co-worker. I just landed back in Colorado after a two-year stint in Nevada. Stone and I are working on a case.”
He nods. “Great. Maybe you can teach him a thing or two.” He winks my way and gives me a look that suggests he’d like to teach Fallon a thing or two before excusing himself and taking off.
“Your brother seems nice,” she says.
“You sound surprised.” I frown as I lead us out of the labyrinth at hand.
“Well, I did meet you first,” she muses and her sense of humor isn’t lost on me. Not that I’ll be laughing any time soon myself. “So where to now?”
“Whispering Woods,” I say, cutting her a look. “We’re going home.”
6
Special Agent Fallon Baxter
Staring at a decapitated corpse managed to curb my appetite right past lunch and well into dinner.
I’m not a novice when it comes to corpses, but I’ll admit, seeing that poor woman lying in pieces was gut-wrenching.
I kept seeing Erin’s face, Erin’s body in her place. For all I know, Erin could be a Jane Doe Number One with a toe tag stuck in some county morgue. And boy, was I tempted to start opening and closing those refrigerated drawers at the coroner’s office at random. It took everything in me to stop from shoving a picture of my sister in the coroner’s face.
But I know all too well that corpses rarely resemble the smiling faces frozen in a snapshot. Besides, I didn’t want Jack Stone gawking at my grief. And I do grieve my sister even though I refuse to believe she’s gone.
A thought comes to me. Rob has evidence of her from just three months ago at some liquor store out in Elmwood.
I wince at the thought.
Elmwood isn’t too far from here, but it’s the seediest town in all of Colorado. The only things I associate Elmwood with are crack whores and the crack addict boyfriends who pimp them out. I doubt anything good has ever come from Elmwood, and I’d hate to think that Erin is stuck in some seedy motel turning tricks for her next hit. If that’s true, then she needs me more than ever.
The last we heard from her was about six weeks after she took off. She sent a message to the group chat with my mother, my sister Riley, and me that simply said, I don’t want to be found. Nothing more, nothing less.
Speaking of Riley, she texted before I left the coroner’s office and said she had a big job out in Denver that would bleed into the evening. She promised we’d get together soon enough.
I pull into the Whispering Woods’ enclave of cabins that are scattered throughout a rugged landscape brimming with evergreens. Pine Ridge Lake sits to the right, and some of the more expensive rentals have a decent view of the water. That’s exactly what I paid for.
I’ve made a few nickels working for the feds, and seeing that I’m lousy at spending it on myself, I thought I’d splurge when it came to housing. But now that I’ll have to repeat the monetary offence once a month, I’m starting to have renter’s remorse.
My cabin is a two-bedroom beauty that looks as if it was crafted entirely out of Lincoln logs. I wheel my suitcase up the gravel driveway and to the porch, before letting myself in to find an idyllic cozy cabin furnished with a plush gray sectional that faces a TV big enough to outfit a drive-in. The floors, the walls, the dining room table, and the coffee table are all fashioned from honey-stained pine. The living room opens up to the dining room and kitchen. The cold white marble counters look shiny and new, the cabinets match the floors, and the appliances are gleaming stainless. If I knew anything about a kitchen appliance, I’m sure I would be impressed.
I give a quick glance in the bedrooms, one double-wide bed, one queen. The property management company assured me that everything had been laundered and is ready to go. A washer-dryer combo sits in an alcove in the hall. There’s a shared bathroom, one for the whole place, and that’s more than enough for me.
The view of the lake is from the rear and the bedroom window. But outside of the view to the lake, it was the hot tub sitting out back that sealed the deal. In fact, a nice long soak in a boiling cauldron doesn’t sound half bad right about now. Just thinking about it relaxes every inch of me.
A knock erupts at the door and my muscles tense right back up again.
