Cold Quarry Read Online Free Page B

and realizing that my getting socked in the face with a shotgun barrel was going to have to make a serious dent in our plans.
    “Damon wants to talk with Jake and me about Chester’s shooting,” I said. “And Betty wants to see us too.”
    “Oh,” she said.
    We all walked together for a few more paces, then Marcia and I peeled off from the group for a moment to stand awkwardly by her car. She seemed distracted.
    “You see,” she said softly. There was anger tinged with hurt in her voice. “This is why you and I can’t be together.”
    “Really? Why is that?”
    “Because I can’t even show up at a funeral for a friend of yours without you getting punched in the jaw and involved in some kind of trouble.”
    I said nothing because she was right, at least about the getting in trouble part.
    “I think I’ll just head on back to Charlottesville,” she said. “It’s a long drive and I’ve got a class to teach in the morning. Please pass on my sympathies to Chester’s widow and son.”
    It was one of those times I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to act or what she needed or didn’t need from me. I didn’t want her to leave but she seemed determined.
    “It was really nice of you to come, Marsh,” I heard myself saying. “Even though you hate funerals.”
    She kissed me on the cheek, unlocked her car, and opened the door. I turned so that no one else would see my face while I watched her climb in, start the engine, and drive away.
     

3
     
    Toronto and I rode with Damon Farraday in his old Scout. Nicole followed in my truck. The Scout was one of the ugliest buckets of bolts I’d ever seen, stained a permanent shade of rust. I got stuck in the back. My head hurt.
    Toronto had left his own mode of transport, a brand-new silver-and-black Harley-Davidson V-Rod most other people wouldn’t be caught dead driving in the middle of winter, back in the Carews’ barn. Felipe said he wasn’t interested in going to the gathering at the house, so Toronto had walked his father to his vehicle before saying good-bye.
    The land around Nitro looked dry and distressed. Farraday maneuvered down a steep hill, negotiating a hairpin turn. He looked uneasy himself. He glanced first at Toronto, then back at me. “Never thought I’d have to be the one to go finding somebody dead like that,” he said.
    “Most people don’t.” I kept my tone neutral. “What happened?”
    He glanced across at Toronto. “Well, Jake here already knows some of this. … I was working on a residential job down in South Charleston when I got a message from my office saying Betty was trying to get ahold of me. I called her up and she told me Chester hadn’t come back yet from his early-morning hunt. He was supposed to be going to his regular doctor’s appointment, but he hadn’t shown up back at the house and she was starting to worry about him. Asked if I’d go up there and make sure he was all right.”
    “So you did. … What’d you find?”
    “I found his Suburban parked down at the start of the dirt road leading up to his land. Didn’t look like nothing was wrong.”
    “Then what?”
    “Well, you heard he had Elo with him, didn’t you, and that the bird is still missing?”
    I nodded.
    “I know Chester’s two favorite fields and a couple of ponds where he likes to take Elo. I checked those first.”
    “But you didn’t find him.”
    “No.”
    “So what did you do?”
    “It was after noon by then. I was starting to get worried myself. I saw a couple of turkey vultures circling around high up along the ridgeline so I decided to head on up there. … Took me awhile.”
    “And is that where you found him?”
    “Along the streambed. About dried up with the drought.”
    “Jake told me he’d been shot in the back.”
    “Yeah. I ain’t never seen that kind of thing before.”
    “How was he lying on the ground?”
    “He was on his stomach.” Farraday paused for a moment, almost as if he were looking at the scene