Survivors Will Be Shot Again Read Free Page A

again.
    â€œThat’s not against the law,” he said. “What was he doing?”
    â€œJumpin’ jacks.”
    Rhodes didn’t say anything.
    â€œIn his underwear,” Lawton said. Hack gave him a look, but Lawton didn’t notice. “Tighty-whities. I’m a boxers man myself.”
    â€œToo much information,” Hack said. “Point is, the fella wasn’t exercisin’ in the privacy of his own home but out in the middle of the street. Can’t have that. Might’ve got hit by a car.”
    â€œIt was Henry Horton,” Lawton said, as if that explained everything, which it did. Horton had some form of dementia, and lately he’d taken to leaving his house and wandering off, though not in his tighty-whities.
    â€œRuth took care of it,” Hack said, meaning Ruth Grady, one of the deputies. “Went over to get him inside while I called his wife and had her come home from the high school.”
    Lucille Horton was the school nurse, and Rhodes knew she was having problems dealing with her husband’s condition.
    â€œShe’s going to have to find somebody to stay with him,” Rhodes said, “or get him into a nursing home.”
    â€œShe knows it,” Hack said. “She told Ruth she’s workin’ on it.”
    â€œYou still haven’t told me where Buddy was going.”
    â€œOh, that,” Hack said.
    â€œYes,” Rhodes said. “That.”
    â€œThat’s nothin’ much. Just somebody’s found a ‘mysterious package’ on the front porch. Tom Gatlin. You know how he is.”
    Rhodes nodded. He’d dealt with the mysterious Gatlin himself a time or two. He sometimes ordered things, forgot he’d ordered them, and then been surprised when a package showed up on his front porch. He’d call the sheriff to come out and make sure there wasn’t a bomb or a box of anthrax on his property.
    â€œWhat we need is a bomb squad,” Lawton said. “Then we could let the professionals handle it.”
    â€œIt’ll be a book or a new shirt,” Hack said. “Last time it was a new flashlight. It ain’t like we got a mad bomber on the loose around here. Buddy’ll take care of it.”
    Hack might have said more on the topic, but the telephone rang. Hack answered it and talked for a couple of minutes. When he hung up, he turned to Rhodes and said, “Since your day off is over with, you might’s well take a run down to Billy Bacon’s place.”
    â€œWhat’s the problem?”
    â€œThieves got a bunch of his stuff.”
    â€œAgain?” Lawton asked.
    â€œThat’s right,” Hack said. “Again.”

 
    Chapter 3
    Rhodes stopped in the turn-in for the gate to the B-Bar-B ranch and waited until the gray dust from the county road settled before getting out of the big black and white Chevy Tahoe. Blacklin County had had a lot of rain earlier in the year, much more than average, in fact, but there had been none for the last couple of weeks.
    The Chevy Tahoe was practically new, only a couple of weeks old. Mikey Burns, one of the county commissioners, had convinced the other members of the commission to buy two of them for the sheriff’s department, although Burns had made it clear to Rhodes that he’d rather have gotten a couple of Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles free from the United States Army. Lots of other small counties had them, Burns said, but Rhodes was happy with the Tahoes. He didn’t think anybody would be planting mines in Blacklin County.
    Rhodes looked past the closed gate and saw Billy Bacon standing next to a weathered tin barn with rust streaks running down its sides and roof. The barn formed part of one side of a small corral. Billy’s dark green and dusty Dodge Ram pickup was parked by an old hand-dug well nearby. Bricks had fallen away from the well’s wall and lay on the thin grass around it, along with