Read Online After the Storm by Linda Castillo - Free Book Online Page B

down on top of an otherwise undamaged double-wide. On the lot next to it, someone has pounded a T-post into the ground and raised an American flag.
    A dozen mobile homes are crushed as if some drunken giant staggered through, stepping on everything in his path. Several were blown off their foundations. At least two are completely gone, the pieces of which are yet to be found. At the end of the street, a bulldozer pushes debris into a pile that will eventually be loaded into a truck and hauled to the dump. Pieces of peoples’ lives gone in an instant.
    Tomasetti and I had risen at the crack of dawn, downed a cup of coffee, and then he’d driven me up to our farm, where I picked up the Explorer. We parted ways after that. Neither of us broached the subject of last night’s discussion, and we didn’t revisit the death of little Lucy Kester.
    The American Red Cross, with its iconic red-and-white disaster-relief step van and a small army of volunteers, was already on scene when I arrived, handing out bottled water, serving up hot food, and passing out teddy bears for the traumatized kids.
    “Bad as this is, it’s a miracle more people weren’t killed.”
    I turn at the sound of Glock’s voice to see him come up behind me. His usually crisp uniform is damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. His trousers are wet from the knee down and clotted with mud.
    He shoves a steaming cup of coffee at me. “Thought you might need this.”
    “I do. Thanks.” I sip, burning my lip, but it’s worth that pain because it’s hot and strong and just what I needed. “You been out with search and rescue?”
    He nods. “No sign of the kid yet.”
    “God, I hope they find him. I can’t imagine what the parents are going through.”
    “No one’s going to give up.”
    I nod. “You know I’ve got you covered with OT, right?”
    “Doesn’t matter.” Looking out over the destruction, he sips coffee. “I’da been out looking for him anyway.”
    “I know.” I’ve just taken my second sip of coffee when my cell phone chirps.
    “Chief.” It’s my dispatcher, Lois Monroe.
    “What’s up?”
    “I just took a call from a Boy Scout scoutmaster by the name of Ken Hutchinson. He’s got a bunch of kids out at that old barn on Gellerman Road that got hit by the tornado, cleaning up, and he says a couple of boys found a human skull.”
    I nearly spill my coffee. “Is he sure it’s human?”
    “He seemed pretty adamant.”
    Gellerman Road demarks the village limits on the north side of town. Everything north of the road falls under the jurisdiction of the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department. Everything on the south side belongs to me. This particular property is on the south.
    “Notify county, will you?”
    “Roger that.”
    “Doc Coblentz, too.” Dr. Ludwig Coblentz is a local pediatrician and part-time coroner for Holmes County.
    “Will do.”
    “Lois, did Hutchinson say if the skull had a body attached to it?”
    “He said there’s no skeleton, just a bunch of bones scattered all around.”
    “I’ll be there in five minutes.” I hit END and dig for my keys.
    “You know it’s going to be an interesting call when you have to ask if the skull is attached to the body,” Glock says.
    “That just about sums it up.” I start toward my Explorer. “I’ll keep you posted.”
    *   *   *
    I’ve driven by the old farm dozens of times over the years. It’s the kind of place you never take notice of because there’s not much there: a dilapidated barn, a couple of smaller outbuildings, a rusty silo set among hip-high weeds. It’s background noise in a landscape you never look at twice. Back in the 1970s, the house was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. There’d been no insurance, and the elderly owners—Mr. and Mrs. Shephard—moved in with their grown children, who continued to farm the land.
    The first thing I notice is the debris, scattered wooden siding and a big black walnut tree that’s been stripped