Read Online Cold Quarry by Andy Straka - Free Book Online

chair and folded his arms across his chest. A vein grew into prominence in his thick neck. Then he shook his head. “No theories. But I will tell you this. You must’ve discovered, like me, that there are mysteries about any place, truths and half-truths people don’t always speak about.
    “Well, around here those truths run deep as a mine-shaft, dark as the blackest night. You start stirring around in there, you’re liable to be surprised at what might come out.”
    “Sorry, Warnock. I can’t guarantee you anything when it comes to looking into something like this,” I said. “If it turns out to be simple, like finding a local poacher or something, then I shouldn’t think there’d be any problem. In fact, the police will probably beat us to it, in which case you’ll be right and Betty will have wasted her money.”
    “Exactly. But you should know something, Frank.”
    “What’s that?”
    “ I don’t waste money,” he said matter-of-factly, reaching across with his free hand and closing the checkbook. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a few letters to finish dictating and some phone calls to make before the end of the day. If you don’t mind, please keep me appraised of your progress.”
    I said I would and shook the man’s hand. I took his check and walked down the hall past the pretty receptionist and through the front door. Outside, the temperature had dropped a few degrees. I wasn’t sure, but I could’ve sworn I felt the money burning a hole in my pocket.
     

7
     
    I drove to a cell phone outlet in South Charleston and picked out a new phone. They were running a special. Thirty-day free trial—only pay the first month’s rent and base charge, unlimited minutes and long distance. Perfect, since I’d have to get a new phone when I got back home anyway and I didn’t think I’d need this one any longer than thirty days.
    After that, I drove to one of those big box stores that sold electronics and showed the salesman the handheld GPS receiver I’d picked up in the woods.
    “That’s a nice model,” he said. “You looking for another one?” He was barely five feet tall, dressed in khaki pants and a clean pressed blue shirt, and had an air of specific, laser-focused knowledge about him.
    “No. I was hoping you could show me how to work this one.”
    “What, you steal it from somebody? Just kidding.”
    “It belongs to a friend of mine,” I lied.
    “Sure.” He took the unit from my hands. “It’s easy.”
    He showed me how the display and various buttons worked. There were coordinates, called way points, as well as a map on the screen.
    “Does it have memory? I mean, does it keep past sets of way points?”
    “Of course.” He helped me bring up another display that allowed me to scroll through the coordinates. “Looks like your friend already has a few stored in here.”
    Hot dog. A virtual roadmap to some of the places my attacker in the woods might have been.
    “You can use it anywhere on the planet,” the salesman was saying. “Except underground or down under the water. It has to be able to get the signals from the satellites.”
    “Great. Thanks very much for your help.”
    “Hey. You sure you’re not looking for a new one of your own? If you like it after you’re through using this one and give it back, you come on by and see me. I’ll make you a deal.”
    “Deal,” I said.
    Back at the Carews’ in Nitro there was a message waiting for me. The driveway had long since cleared out so that only my truck, Chester’s Suburban, and Betty’s Buick remained.
    “Cops called looking for you,” Toronto said as I came in through the back door.
    “Deputy Nolestar?”
    “That’s the one. Betty took the message.”
    “Wonder what took him so long?”
    “Maybe they get so many shotgun attacks in the woods around here yours wasn’t a priority,” he said.
    “Right. I’m just glad Betty answered the phone and not you.”
    “She and Jason are upstairs sleeping. I