Read Online Fatal Storm by Lee Driver - Free Book Online

year but this guy could be from anywhere. I'll start with home
grown missing persons and then expand it to the surrounding states.
Find anything else on him?”
    “If you were looking for money or a passport
stuffed in a sock you are out of luck.”
    Padre walked over to a side table where John
Doe's clothes were laid out. There was a blue checkered shirt,
crisp new denim jeans marred with mud and grass stains, and a
simple gold wedding band. “No engraving on the ring. That narrows
the search to those that were married.”
    Luther looked up from the examining table.
“Some divorced people refuse to take off their rings. Same for
widows and widowers.”
    “Good point.”
    “What did your people find out by the
mansion?”
    “Not a thing. No clue as to whether or not
the deceased was in the mansion. No abandoned cars anywhere in the
area. No sign of Sheila Monroe anywhere either. I don’t suppose you
got fingerprints off of that scarf.”
    “Yeah, right. We'll get those TV CSI folks on
that right away.” Luther stripped out of his apron and gloves and
motioned Padre out of the room. “Let's assume Miss Monroe wasn't
involved in the murder, even though the scarf was tied in a very
feminine bow. Does the M.O. sound like anything you had heard of
before?”
    “Other than the suggestion it was the Boston
Strangler?” Padre said with a laugh. “I've got my guys checking
into it.”
    “What about those ghost hunters? Any of them
have skeletons in their closets?” Luther flashed a smile. “No pun
intended.”
    “So far, no, but we aren't done turning them
inside out yet.”
    Luther scribbled his name on the bottom of a
report, ran the pages through a copier, and handed one copy to
Padre. “Keep me posted.”
     
     
- 14 -
     
    Dagger turned the key fob over in his hand
then played with the switch. “Not bad. And how do I keep from
accidentally flicking the damn thing on and shooting my nuts
off?”
    Skizzy narrowed his eyes at him and drawled,
“Now that would be pretty hard seeing that you'd need a large
enough target.”
    Sara stifled a smile as their squirrely
friend remained stoic.
    “It does have a safety if you’d spend more
time inspecting my hard work.”
    Dagger glared at Skizzy over the top of the
key fob. “And here we didn't think you had a sense of humor.” He
pocketed the fob and motioned with his fingers in a gimme gesture.
“What did you find out?”
    “Yeah, yeah. Hold your britches.” Strands of
graying hair were wrestling their way free from Skizzy's ponytail.
Skizzy's mode of dress consisted of a tee shirt and camouflage
pants. No one knew for sure if Skizzy still had fifty-two cards in
his mental deck, whether his head was still scrambled from Viet Nam
or being a recluse made him suspicious of everything and everyone
except for a select few. Skizzy was a paranoid schizophrenic and
believed Big Brother was keeping tabs on him, that the powers that
be have inserted tracking chips in every baby born and anyone who
had ever been in the hospital in the past five years. And when it
was recently discovered that Dagger had a chip in his neck, that
confirmed all of Skizzy's suspicions.
    Sara roamed the pawn shop, wondering why
people would part with heirlooms, gold watches, pocket knives, and
other gems that were nothing more than garage sale items. She poked
at what looked like a turtle shell, expecting something to pop out
from underneath.
    Skizzy emerged from the back room and set
several sheets of paper on the counter.
    “What is this, Skizzy?” Sara asked. “It looks
like a turtle shell.”
    Skizzy gave a quick glance at where she was
pointing. “It's a turtle shell.”
    “Why on earth would you give anyone money for
a turtle shell?”
    “Knowing Skizzy,” Dagger said, “it's probably
a listening device or a weapon of some sort.”
    Sara moved away from the shell and joined
Dagger at the counter where he was skimming Skizzy’s brief report.
“That’s all?” Sara asked.
    “The