Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) Read Free Page B

the car commercials.
          It was the second glance that gave pause. That was when you noticed that the parks and playgrounds were deserted, despite it being a beautiful fall morning. The few people out and about wore the haunted look of refugees, faces drawn, eyes wary. There was a pulse to every town and city, a feel that any lawman worth his badge could feel deep in his bones. Something was wrong in this town. Something bad had come to visit and even the people untouched by its darkness could feel the shadow's breath on their neck.
          The forensic team leader was a man named Baker, a big lanky man with unruly hair and a wide toothy smile. Faux had worked with men like Baker before. They lead by being the first one in and the last one out, inspiring loyalty and tenacity in the people working for them. The others all instinctively looked to Baker for direction, even when they already knew their jobs by heart.  
          Baker took the lead, walking across the cracked pavement and greeting one of the officers with a tight grimace and a handshake. They obviously knew one another, so Faux stood apart, waiting to be introduced. To look less conspicuous, he walked over to where the team was already setting up shop. Baker's team was every bit as efficient as what Faux was used to, pulling on protective clothing and plastic booties before approaching the taped off vehicles with their cameras and test tubes. They moved gingerly. Faux stayed back, studying the scene, and felt a chill work its way up his spine. 
          The dampness of the morning couldn't disguise the blood that covered the broken concrete. Long stringy splashes and massive pools decorated the ground, black and sticky where it had splattered on the parked vehicles. Bits of meat and muscle and torn strips of flesh were everywhere. Faux's stomach flip flopped and he swallowed bile. He'd seen worse crime scenes, but nothing ever of such animal brutality. Human on human violence had a feel to it, almost a bouquet, that Faux understood. But this was something different. Again, he was struck with the sense that there was something very wrong with this picturesque town.
          Baker walked over, gesturing from Faux to the man he'd been speaking to. "Agent Darius Faux. This is Chief Derek Teague."
          "Acting chief." Teague said, taking Faux's hand in a strong grip. He was a medium sized man, with heavy shoulders and a neatly trimmed goatee. A slanting scar made a pale line through the goatee and up onto his left cheek. He looked around the parking lot, his eyes resting on the abandoned trucks, then shook his head. "That truck over there belongs to Chief Wyntrop. The one next to it is Sgt Golph's." He stared at the blood spattered vehicles of his fellow officers and his expression became grim. "The others also belonged to officers. Besides myself, there are only four more full time deputies." He turned and gave Faux a level look. "The rest of the Matheson police force is somewhere out there." He said, gesturing at the woods beyond the four silos.
          Faux looked at the thick wall of trees that Teague indicated. This forest was wild and untamed compared to the manicured parks and woods that decorated the rest of Matheson. As he studied the tree line, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He said. "How far out does it go? How many square miles?"
          "Around thirty or forty square miles, maybe." Teague said, rubbing a hand across his face. He met Baker's gaze for a moment, before saying to both of them. "It's rough country, but not impossible. We've still got a lot of daylight left and we plan on using every bit of it."
          Baker was nodding even as Teague spoke. He looked at Faux and said. "My team will lock down the crime scene, while Faux and I help you search."
          Teague said. "We appreciate the help." He gestured for his men to move in closer and began doling out instructions. He knew what he