Dumping Grounds (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 1) Read Free

reckon I’m just getting too damn old for this shit,” he muttered, for about the fourth time that day.
    “You’re not any older than my daddy is Sheriff. That ain’t old at all,” the deputy assured him.
    Sheriff Stokes reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, leaned back against his patrol car, and inhaled deeply. He released it slowly, watching the smoke float away.
    “You heard anymore about those murders over the county line, Sheriff,” John Metcalf asked as he walked up to the sheriff’s cruiser.
    John Metcalf was the new crime scene investigator for the county, a title that had began just for him.
    “Naw, I haven’t heard anything, but I figured you’d hear about those Mississippi murders before I did. You running in the same circles as those fellers you went to that fancy college with, up there in Jackson.”
    “No Sir, haven’t heard anything about it in a couple of weeks; but then again, I haven’t been home to see the folks. That is usually when I catch up with the gossip and the goings on around there.” John Metcalf was born and reared just over the Mississippi State Line, in George County, but he had attended primary and middle school in Mobile County, then high school over there.
    Metcalf stood a moment waiting on the sheriff to say something or ask him a question, but the sheriff was just standing there smoking and staring out across the highway to the sagebrush-filled fields on the other side. Metcalf turned and took several steps toward his vehicle.
    “It’s strange they’re killing men over there in Mississippi, and women here in Alabama, all killed in about the same fashion.” Stokes said idly.
    “It’s really strange if you ask me,” Metcalf replied, walking back toward the sheriff’s car. He spoke humbly, saying, “Sheriff Stokes, it was just a regular college. It was not anything fancy. I wanted to be a Crime Scene Investigator. It was the only college offering classes in crime scene investigation.
    I have to say though,” Metcalf grimaced, “None of the schooling I did prepared me for what I have to see and investigate out here in the real world.
    Bloody, gory pictures and a few weeks at a body farm do not compare to this, at all,” the investigator exclaimed.
    “Well, I’m sure we’ll hear something soon enough” the Sheriff said, taking another long draw off his cigarette, again, taking his time and releasing it slowly, as if he hated to get back to the job at hand.
    “Yep, too soon I’m sure” Metcalf replied, gathering up his gear and looking as if he did not know which way to turn next.
    “Looks as if you are dreading this as much as I am,” Sheriff Stokes said, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground. He stepped on it, mashed it down, and then twisted it into the earth with the toe of his boot.
    Stokes looked once more at the Polaroid in his hand before stuffing it into his shirt pocket. He got into his patrol car and drove away.
     

2
primal instinct
    Late Feb 1976
    Alabama/Mississippi State Line
     
    Emma Carr had never been as frightened in her life as she was fleeing through the darkness toward the river.
    The whizzing sound of a bullet flying past her head caused her to drop to her knees and begin to crawl. She crawled as fast as she could, but the thickets alongside the river were a tangled mess of scrubby shrubs and vines.
    Emma, had been resourceful most of her life, she was no different now. She felt she was doing a good job of dodging bullets, but she was scared slap to death.
    Why, are they trying to kill me, Emma wondered as she scanned the surrounding area with her eyes. I don’t even know who they are. I cannot tell on them, if I don’t know who they are, she rationalized as she crawled into the hollow of a large river birch. She felt a little more secure in the hollow tree. It was like a protective covering.
    The ground beneath her caved in slightly and Emma tried to crawl deeper into it.
    Mental images