reach, when she spotted something swinging in the shadows overhead.
Looking closer, she spotted a taut rope hanging from the highest reaches of the dome. Following the line with her gaze, she began to make out shapes in the murky chamber overhead: a pair of brown work boots hovering thirty feet off the floor; two legs dangling in the darkness; a hand sleeved in shadow.
Mallory’s hand dropped away from her mouth. Her body stiffened.
She saw where the rope ended in a noose, the frayed tether partially concealed behind a white face that gazed down with empty eyes.
A scream exploded from her throat. It bounced off the cold walls encircling her, amplified by the concrete. A flock of birds burst into flight, rushing from a hidden roost within the silo’s upper structure. The beat of their wings overpowered Mallory’s cry, and transient shadows darted across the dead man’s body as they flew out of the dome.
Mallory wailed again, pulling her knees up to her chest, miserably realizing no one could hear her.
Oh, God! The smell, that awful smell!
She inhaled to scream again when she spotted tufts of cloth and grass protruding from the corpse’s clothing. Her eyes adjusted to the light as she stared, and now she noticed wire secured around the dead man’s wrists and ankles, holding his boots and gloves in place. Duct tape bound a long and rusty kitchen knife in his right hand.
What kind of person would hang himself while holding a kitchen knife?
“ It’s not real,” she whispered to herself. “It’s just some dumb prank.”
She stood up and took a second, longer look at the slack white face above. This time she saw a rubber mask instead of someone’s head, a stupid Halloween prop probably purchased for under ten bucks at any WalMart or Target store.
Shifting her gaze from the hanging dummy, she searched the floor and found the remains of a small animal—maybe a raccoon or a woodchuck—not far away, which had to be the source of the stench in the air. More importantly, she also discovered a small access hatch in the silo’s wall, outlined by glorious yellow sunlight.
“ Thank God,” she whispered.
Wiping tears from her cheeks, she walked toward the door.
Overhead, a strong wind pushed through the hole in the silo’s rooftop and swirled down the concrete walls, turning the dummy just enough so that its hollow eye sockets seemed to track Mallory’s movements across the room.
The sight of it caused her bravery to vanish like a ghost.
She spun away, pushed the hatch open, and squeezed out into the warm daylight.
She didn’t stop running until she’d traveled beyond sight of the silo.
CHAPTER 10
Detective Melissa Humble pulled her car into the Pattersons’ driveway for the second time that day, arriving even as the coroner’s van departed with the homeowners’ bodies. She got out of the car and started toward the house in search of Dr. Otto Rictor, a former medical examiner and the senior CSI officer on the scene.
She opened the farmhouse door and stepped inside. The odor of decay had diminished, but the grisly display of dry blood on the far wall left the lingering impression of death, even without Mrs. Patterson’s body present.
Melissa found Dr. Rictor stooped over the kitchen counter, studying various Polaroid photos of the bodies and jotting notes into a ledger. Earlier, he’d led the photographers throughout the house and garage, making certain every detail of the crime scene got captured on film.
Rictor glanced up and smiled when the door springs announced her entry, an act that caused the lines sprouting from the corners of his eyes to triple in number. He pushed his half-lens reading glasses higher up on the bridge of his pudgy nose and said, “That was quick. You weren’t even gone an hour.”
After contacting and questioning the victims’ remaining family—two sons, both living out of state—Melissa had gone out to check the surrounding farms, searching for anyone
Looking closer, she spotted a taut rope hanging from the highest reaches of the dome. Following the line with her gaze, she began to make out shapes in the murky chamber overhead: a pair of brown work boots hovering thirty feet off the floor; two legs dangling in the darkness; a hand sleeved in shadow.
Mallory’s hand dropped away from her mouth. Her body stiffened.
She saw where the rope ended in a noose, the frayed tether partially concealed behind a white face that gazed down with empty eyes.
A scream exploded from her throat. It bounced off the cold walls encircling her, amplified by the concrete. A flock of birds burst into flight, rushing from a hidden roost within the silo’s upper structure. The beat of their wings overpowered Mallory’s cry, and transient shadows darted across the dead man’s body as they flew out of the dome.
Mallory wailed again, pulling her knees up to her chest, miserably realizing no one could hear her.
Oh, God! The smell, that awful smell!
She inhaled to scream again when she spotted tufts of cloth and grass protruding from the corpse’s clothing. Her eyes adjusted to the light as she stared, and now she noticed wire secured around the dead man’s wrists and ankles, holding his boots and gloves in place. Duct tape bound a long and rusty kitchen knife in his right hand.
What kind of person would hang himself while holding a kitchen knife?
“ It’s not real,” she whispered to herself. “It’s just some dumb prank.”
She stood up and took a second, longer look at the slack white face above. This time she saw a rubber mask instead of someone’s head, a stupid Halloween prop probably purchased for under ten bucks at any WalMart or Target store.
Shifting her gaze from the hanging dummy, she searched the floor and found the remains of a small animal—maybe a raccoon or a woodchuck—not far away, which had to be the source of the stench in the air. More importantly, she also discovered a small access hatch in the silo’s wall, outlined by glorious yellow sunlight.
“ Thank God,” she whispered.
Wiping tears from her cheeks, she walked toward the door.
Overhead, a strong wind pushed through the hole in the silo’s rooftop and swirled down the concrete walls, turning the dummy just enough so that its hollow eye sockets seemed to track Mallory’s movements across the room.
The sight of it caused her bravery to vanish like a ghost.
She spun away, pushed the hatch open, and squeezed out into the warm daylight.
She didn’t stop running until she’d traveled beyond sight of the silo.
CHAPTER 10
Detective Melissa Humble pulled her car into the Pattersons’ driveway for the second time that day, arriving even as the coroner’s van departed with the homeowners’ bodies. She got out of the car and started toward the house in search of Dr. Otto Rictor, a former medical examiner and the senior CSI officer on the scene.
She opened the farmhouse door and stepped inside. The odor of decay had diminished, but the grisly display of dry blood on the far wall left the lingering impression of death, even without Mrs. Patterson’s body present.
Melissa found Dr. Rictor stooped over the kitchen counter, studying various Polaroid photos of the bodies and jotting notes into a ledger. Earlier, he’d led the photographers throughout the house and garage, making certain every detail of the crime scene got captured on film.
Rictor glanced up and smiled when the door springs announced her entry, an act that caused the lines sprouting from the corners of his eyes to triple in number. He pushed his half-lens reading glasses higher up on the bridge of his pudgy nose and said, “That was quick. You weren’t even gone an hour.”
After contacting and questioning the victims’ remaining family—two sons, both living out of state—Melissa had gone out to check the surrounding farms, searching for anyone
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