Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 Read Online Free Page A

remaining.
    “You wanna explain why once again you’re around when a body turns up?”
    Would it be petty to mention I hadn’t been around 22

    when my brother’s body had been found? Probably. I shrugged and clamped my teeth together.
    “In the last six months this county has become a regular Cabot’s Cove,” the sheriff grumbled. “I see more of you now than when you worked for me.”
    His diatribe was interrupted by a shrill demand.
    “Move!”
    Sheriff Al struggled to contain June Everett by blocking her with his doughy body without physically touching her.
    Her clumps of black hair hadn’t seen a comb, but she’d replaced the robe and bunny slippers with stained white stirrup pants and an oversized #7 Denver Broncos football jersey. Orange fl ip-fl ops with big yellow fl owers decorated her bare feet.
    My toes curled in my boots. God. Her little piggies had to feel like frozen sausages.
    “You can’t keep me here. I got rights!” she yelled.
    “Lemme talk to my husband.”
    Sheriff Richards doff ed his hat and ambled toward her.
    I didn’t envy his task, though I knew he’d done the duty many times. Despite his intimidating size at 6’8”, he was a compassionate man.
    “Mrs. Everett? I’m sorry—”
    “Damn right you’d better be sorry, Sheriff . You’re trespassin’ on private property.”
    23

    “Mrs. Everett. Please listen carefully. I need to ask you to come with me.”
    “What for?”
    “Th
    ere’s been an accident.”
    “Where?” She fi dgeted, shifting from one fl ip-fl op to the other. “What’s that hafta do with me? I don’t know nothin’ ’bout it. I just got here.”
    “I need you to identify the body the ambulance crew is bringing up.”
    “Whose body?” She peered around the sheriff .
    Th
    e low murmurs and grunts of the ambulance
    guys, the clatter of metal on rocks broke the silence as they hauled up the body strapped to the stretcher.
    A body wearing a red windbreaker.
    Comprehension dawned in June Everett’s eyes. Her face went pallid beneath the cheek that still bore the imprint of her husband’s hand. “Lang?”
    Sheriff Richards nodded.
    “How?”
    “Appears Mr. Everett hit a sinkhole, lost control of the four-wheeler and went over that embankment. I’m sorry.”
    Her knees buckled. Th
    e sheriff caught her.
    I wanted to turn away. Hell, I was tempted to crawl in the sinkhole and dig my way to China so I didn’t have to witness this.
    Th
    e emergency team called the sheriff . He spoke to 24

    June; she nodded and shuffl
    ed behind him reluctant as a
    death row inmate.
    Hushed silence followed. I knew what was coming, but you’re never truly prepared for that initial outburst of grief as June Everett’s shrieks rent the air.
    Th
    e day that’d started like any other became cold, dark, and harsh.
    Kevin came up behind me. Set his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “Warm up in the Jeep. I can handle the rest.”
    “I’m fi ne.”
    “Jules . . .”
    I shrugged until his hands dropped. “I said I’m fi ne.”
    He didn’t push the issue.
    I hiked to the ledge where the earth fell away.
    Across the distance mule deer grazed, their velvety ears swiveled to the sound of danger. Sensing none, they returned to foraging.
    While the sheriff conferred with the EMTs, June stumbled around the front of the patrol car. She rushed Deputy Al, who’d been standing by as helpless and worthless as usual.
    “Show me the goddamn sinkhole,” she demanded.
    “W-what?”
    “Show me the sinkhole that Lang supposedly hit.”
    Al’s cheeks burned bright red and he blinked nervously.
    25

    She shoved him. “Got no answer, do ya? Th at’s
    what I thought. No one knows this land better’n me and there ain’t no goddamn sinkholes around here! Been too fuckin’ dry! So what was it that got my husband kilt?”
    Sheriff Richards would slap the cuff s on her regardless of her crazed state of grief. No one pushed around his deputies.
    “Th
    e hole is over here,” I said