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Authors: Ryan C. Thomas

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BOOK: Scraps & Chum
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Yeah, baby,

he said, kissing her head and rubbing her hair, feeling how much she was a necessary part of his life.

It

s just...um…you were talking in your sleep.


Oh please, not that again. What

d I say this time?


Um…well…nothing. I

ll tell you in the morning.


Good. I

m exhausted.

Matti rolled over and curled up in a fetal position, finding one of the small bears that kept residence around her pillow and pulling it toward her.

Come cuddle me,

she said.


Hey, baby?

Dane put his arm around her and drew her into him, spooning.

Matti grunted.


We never did get the history of this house before we moved in, did we?

Another grunt.


I love this house, you know. I always felt comfortable here for some reason. I mean, nothing ever went wrong here. Everything always worked, I always felt safe, I never really felt…alone here. You ever feel that?


Mmmm.

A minute passed, Dane lightly rubbing his hand down is wife

s warm back, rethinking his attitude toward the unknown. As her breathing shifted to the even rhythm of sleep, he asked quietly, as much for himself as for Matti or anyone else listening,

You ever think there are people in this world who are just happy to be around other people? Content to watch silently as things go on around them? Just staying out of the way. You think they get sad when people leave them?

Matti managed a final comment before she began to snore.

I dunno, Dane. I

m tired. Does it matter?

He let her drift into her dreams before answering:

Kinda. I think I just met one.

Downstairs, the kitchen phone began to buzz as the line came back to life.

Looking at the clock, he thought, two hours until I have to get up.

 

 

 

SQUEAKY WHEELS

 

 

Everyone who lived on Hill Drive was standing outside the entrance to Cottonwood Pa
rk, chattering like squirrels.
Police cruis
ers were parked at random, up on the curbs,
blocking the street,
attempting
a semblance of barriers. Even in the daylight, their lights played on the nearby treetops.
Dogs in the back yards of adjacent
houses ran in circles and barked.   

George huffed and maneuvered his unmarked sedan through the crowd of lookieloos, muttering curses under his breath.

Outta the way, idiot. Don

t you see the frigging car about to run you over.

  Cruiser Jockeys were doing their best to control the small neighborhood crowd but were spread too thin to cover all the entrances to the park, i.e. the two miles of unfenced tree line that ran the perimeter. He parked near Ted Newcomb

s car, took his gun and holster from the seat next to him and got out. A group of kids on bikes were discussing how to sneak into the woods from a back street.
George stabbed a finger at them.

I find you in there near that scene I

m arresting you.

He strapped his shoulder holster in place, punctuating the threat. They didn

t look too frightened. Brats.

Go on, get out of here.

They pedaled off, no doubt still intent on their plan.

There was no clear path into the woods (these things never happened in the open areas near swings and slides) but a steady stream of officers coming and going through the trees pointed out the way to the crime scene. He walked into the woods, brushing away limbs as he
went. Radios were hissing and popping, bouncing off tree trunks, growing louder as he pushed deeper. He stepped into a small dirt clearing, found Ted Newcomb instructing a uniformed officer to cordon off the area with yellow police tape.  


Hey, Ted.


George. You hear the call?


When I was getting my donut like a good cop. So what do we got? I heard something about rats?


Oh, we got rats. Lots of

em. Take a look over there in that big pit.

George stepped inside the perimeter of the police tape, heard the
squeaking
noises coming from the pit before he saw the source. The pit was easily ten by ten feet wide, and some eight or
nine feet deep. Manmade
. He didn

t know what was more disturbing, that someone had dug the equivalent of a grave in a neighborhood park, or the way the floor was moving. A writhing sea of rats filled the pit, hundreds of them, scurrying in a panic over one another, squealing and desperately trying to climb up the sides. The ones that weren

t trying to escape were occupied with something else: a female corpse, half eaten, bloated and gray, slick with decomposition. George watched one of the frenzied rodents gnaw
ed
a chunk of skin off the top of the corpse

s head and felt his stomach turn. He picked up a rock and hurled it at the rat but missed completely. Baseball was not his thing. No doubt Mandy would take up softball just to annoy him. He turned back to Ted.

Jesus. I won

t be able to eat donuts for a week.


Good, you could stand to lose the weight.


I

m serious, this is fucking-A disgusting. Where

s the M
.
E
.
?


That one over there,

Ted pointed to a young officer who looked fresh from the academy,

said he was on the way. Animal control is on their way too.


He get here first?

George indicated the same young cop.


No, another unit. They

re out on the street now.


They talk to you?


Yeah. Said some kids



Kids?


Yeah, kids, twelve and thirteen…that still count as kids these days?


Shit, I hope so. Mandy

s only ten. I ain

t ready for a grandkid just yet. Can those rats get out of there?


Well, they haven

t yet. Not that they aren

t giving it the old college try.


Someone made this. Put the rats in there. You think?


It

s a
likely
theory.

Ted nodded, picked something out of his teeth.

Filled it with rats and dropped this woman in it. Let them eat her to death.


Homicide.
Trying to cover something up?


Hell of a lot of trouble to go to to get rid of a corpse.

George hated his next thought, but voiced it anyway.

Did it while she was alive? Torture?


The world is insane.


The world
is
insane. Wait, what about the kids?

Ted was done picking his teeth, wiped his hands on his blazer.

Kids were out here lighting off firecrackers. Found this pit covered with some tree trunks. Those right there.

A
series of felled logs ringed
the makeshift grave
. Orange cones were ringed around them, denoting they were somehow evidence.

Heard some squeaking noises coming from under them. Figured it was an animal and slid it over to look. Saw the rats. Saw the—


Saw the corpse and ran. Okay, I can figure it out. Where are they now, the kids?


Sitting in on one of the squad cars waiting for their parents to come down so they can make a statement.


Great. I l
ove when parents get involved. Just e
nd up confusing their own kids.


I dunno, my brother

s kid eats cat food. Wouldn

t want him as a character witness at my trial. Picks his nose all the time too



Did they see anyone else hanging around? People not from the neighborhood?


Not that I know of. Perp could have come from anywhere. The park technically stops about a mile that way, but the woods continue down to the river where the lye factory is. So the guy could have parked at the factory and hoofed
it
through the woods all the way up here.  We

re checking the employee list but I

m not holding out for a hero.

BOOK: Scraps & Chum
6.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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