Read Online Depths: Southern Watch #2 by Robert J. Crane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert J. Crane
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probably not.
She made it through the gate and up the walk before she saw Reines and Fries just inside the door. It was dark and she nodded to both of them as she came in. Her khaki uniform was a little wrinkled because she’d run out the door without a chance to iron it, but she doubted that would matter here. She had the steaming cups of coffee in her hand, carrying the little Styrofoam tray. She wordlessly held it out and Reines and Fries each grabbed one, thanking her profusely.
She went on, listening to the squeak of the floor as she made her way down the hall. The crime scene unit from Chattanooga was probably still an hour out, which meant they’d all sort of stand around and try not to fuck things up until the pros got here. For her money, the best way to do that would be to get Fries and Reines outside, but she wasn’t exactly in charge. Or anywhere approaching a mile of in charge.
She came around the corner into a family room complete with sofa and TV. The TV was half the size of the room, which screamed bachelor to her. Part of her wondered if that was because she knew Corey Hughes was a lifelong bachelor or if it genuinely was just because of the TV and the sofa.
The room was dark, the curtains pulled to. The day was gloomy anyway; it was doubtful that opening them would do much to brighten the place.
It took her a second to realize that Arch was standing against the wall to her left, just next to an open door leading into a lit room. Light was spilling out and she could hear someone moving in there. She surmised it was probably Reeve, since she knew he was on scene and she’d yet to run across him.
“You already go in?” she asked Arch, and he looked up at her. He looked like he’d been lost in his own little world before she’d said something, and she stepped over to him and wordlessly offered him a coffee.
“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “And yeah, I went in. It’s …” Arch’s voice got kind of choked. “It’s bad.”
She wondered at how bad it could be. Took a couple steps toward the door, but Reeve was there, holding out a hand and taking a coffee from the tray. “You don’t want to go in there,” he said. “It’s just nasty. Ain’t a fit way for anyone to die, and there’s no reason for you to see it—”
“Sir,” she said, and all the irritation she’d felt and bottled up at being asked to get coffee sort popped out, “please move aside.”
Reeve cocked an eyebrow at her, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to argue. He must have decided against it, because he shuffled left, leaving the door open for her to walk through.
She took a tentative step toward it, then another, wishing her pace was a match for the voice she’d just used to order the sheriff around. She stepped into the lit kitchen and the smell hit her.
It was like a memory she had of childhood, when her three brothers, all older than her, had conspired to drag her six year-old self out to the barn when her daddy was killing a hog. They told her it was something else, she couldn’t remember what, that she had to see it and she went, dutifully, as though the three of them hadn’t steered her wrong a thousand times before. She was naive like that as a kid. Thinking back to Hendricks, she wondered if maybe she still was.
She’d watched through a crack in the barn door as her daddy slit the hog’s throat. She’d known the name of the creature at the time, though it escaped her now. Her brothers had stood behind her and snickered as she peered in. Their hushed whispers came back to her now, their excitement in the anticipation of seeing her reaction.
They were dreadfully disappointed when they actually saw it.
She remembered watching her dad raise the hog in the air once he’d gutted it, once he’d pulled out the innards and put them in a wheelbarrow. She could recall the smell of it, of the shit and piss and gawdawful rancid nastiness of the hog’s carcass opened to
She made it through the gate and up the walk before she saw Reines and Fries just inside the door. It was dark and she nodded to both of them as she came in. Her khaki uniform was a little wrinkled because she’d run out the door without a chance to iron it, but she doubted that would matter here. She had the steaming cups of coffee in her hand, carrying the little Styrofoam tray. She wordlessly held it out and Reines and Fries each grabbed one, thanking her profusely.
She went on, listening to the squeak of the floor as she made her way down the hall. The crime scene unit from Chattanooga was probably still an hour out, which meant they’d all sort of stand around and try not to fuck things up until the pros got here. For her money, the best way to do that would be to get Fries and Reines outside, but she wasn’t exactly in charge. Or anywhere approaching a mile of in charge.
She came around the corner into a family room complete with sofa and TV. The TV was half the size of the room, which screamed bachelor to her. Part of her wondered if that was because she knew Corey Hughes was a lifelong bachelor or if it genuinely was just because of the TV and the sofa.
The room was dark, the curtains pulled to. The day was gloomy anyway; it was doubtful that opening them would do much to brighten the place.
It took her a second to realize that Arch was standing against the wall to her left, just next to an open door leading into a lit room. Light was spilling out and she could hear someone moving in there. She surmised it was probably Reeve, since she knew he was on scene and she’d yet to run across him.
“You already go in?” she asked Arch, and he looked up at her. He looked like he’d been lost in his own little world before she’d said something, and she stepped over to him and wordlessly offered him a coffee.
“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “And yeah, I went in. It’s …” Arch’s voice got kind of choked. “It’s bad.”
She wondered at how bad it could be. Took a couple steps toward the door, but Reeve was there, holding out a hand and taking a coffee from the tray. “You don’t want to go in there,” he said. “It’s just nasty. Ain’t a fit way for anyone to die, and there’s no reason for you to see it—”
“Sir,” she said, and all the irritation she’d felt and bottled up at being asked to get coffee sort popped out, “please move aside.”
Reeve cocked an eyebrow at her, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to argue. He must have decided against it, because he shuffled left, leaving the door open for her to walk through.
She took a tentative step toward it, then another, wishing her pace was a match for the voice she’d just used to order the sheriff around. She stepped into the lit kitchen and the smell hit her.
It was like a memory she had of childhood, when her three brothers, all older than her, had conspired to drag her six year-old self out to the barn when her daddy was killing a hog. They told her it was something else, she couldn’t remember what, that she had to see it and she went, dutifully, as though the three of them hadn’t steered her wrong a thousand times before. She was naive like that as a kid. Thinking back to Hendricks, she wondered if maybe she still was.
She’d watched through a crack in the barn door as her daddy slit the hog’s throat. She’d known the name of the creature at the time, though it escaped her now. Her brothers had stood behind her and snickered as she peered in. Their hushed whispers came back to her now, their excitement in the anticipation of seeing her reaction.
They were dreadfully disappointed when they actually saw it.
She remembered watching her dad raise the hog in the air once he’d gutted it, once he’d pulled out the innards and put them in a wheelbarrow. She could recall the smell of it, of the shit and piss and gawdawful rancid nastiness of the hog’s carcass opened to
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