long, had to fence it off as a public nuisance. Of course, you turn to the next page, you’ll see why it’s being detonated in the morning.” Griffin did as asked, and the chief said, “Either of you know anything about explosives?”
Sydney looked wide-eyed, and Griffin replied, “Let’s just say they don’t cover that in journalism school.”
“That,” Chief Parks said, tapping the photo, “is dynamite. Old mining towns, we expect to find this. But not there, in the McMahon basement.”
Sydney moved closer for a better look. “Could it have been left behind by the past owners? For their mining operations?”
“No, ma’am. Because that there basement was empty when the last owners abandoned it. We know, because we rousted a few kids out of there over the years, which is why we had to erect the fence around the property. Too dangerous,” he said, as Irene walked in with his cup of coffee. “Thanks.” He turned his attention back to the binder. “We found that dynamite in a search of the property after Calvin jumped bail. Most officers I know don’t keep cases of explosives around unless they’re up to no good. And now we gotta blow up the place.”
“Blow it up?” Sydney asked, playing the ingénue to perfection. “Why?”
“Wouldn’t take much to set it off. Nitroglycerin’s degraded. Couple of them sticks even rub together and boom!” He slammed his hand on the desk.
Sydney’s brows went up, and Griffin asked, “But what about Officer Walker’s dog? Can’t we at least get in there and take it out?”
“Like I said, too dangerous. Right now, my officers are under orders to arrest anyone who shows up. Afraid I can’t make any exceptions.”
“Even for photographs?” Sydney asked. “For our article?”
“Tell you what,” he said, steepling his fingers together. “You can take all the photos you want. As long as it’s outside the fence line. That’s the best I can do.” He made a show of looking at his watch, then standing. “You two got any other questions? I got a town council meeting I gotta get to.”
“Actually,” Griffin said, “there is one thing. Now, mind you, I’m not the investigative expert here or anything, but we heard rumors that maybe that dog’s waiting on that property because there’s a body buried there somewhere.”
“A body?” He shook his head. “Said it was beneath that rock pile by the broken wall?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I take it you been talking to Walker’s sister? Well, dog or no dog, I assure you there’s no dead body beneath that rock pile or anywhere else on the property.” He turned to his computer. “Who knows why the damned dog is there. Now this,” he said, typing something on the keyboard, “is a photo taken a couple years ago, when we decided to fence the house off, due to it being a public nuisance. Last thing we wanted was to be sued ’cause some drunk-ass kid fell in one of them old mine shafts that litter the area, never mind falling down the stairs in the abandoned house.” He waited while the article loaded, then turned the screen so Griffin and Sydney could see it. “You can see the fence crews working in the background. That puts it about two years ago. And there? Same broken wall. Same location. Same configuration. So unless someone went to the trouble of piling it up in exactly the same way, ain’t no way they moved ’em to bury a body there.”
“Is it possible to take a look ourselves? At least to retrieve the dog?”
“Can’t let you do that. Ain’t no reason that dog’ll get hurt where it’s at. Dynamite’s in the basement. Dog’s a few dozen yards away. Trust me. We got experts out there overseeing the whole thing, and they assure me that house is going straight down, not out. Ain’t no one gonna get hurt, as long as they stay outside the fence line.” He walked over to the door and opened it. “But tell you what. You want to be here in the morning when we blow up the place? I’ll
Sydney looked wide-eyed, and Griffin replied, “Let’s just say they don’t cover that in journalism school.”
“That,” Chief Parks said, tapping the photo, “is dynamite. Old mining towns, we expect to find this. But not there, in the McMahon basement.”
Sydney moved closer for a better look. “Could it have been left behind by the past owners? For their mining operations?”
“No, ma’am. Because that there basement was empty when the last owners abandoned it. We know, because we rousted a few kids out of there over the years, which is why we had to erect the fence around the property. Too dangerous,” he said, as Irene walked in with his cup of coffee. “Thanks.” He turned his attention back to the binder. “We found that dynamite in a search of the property after Calvin jumped bail. Most officers I know don’t keep cases of explosives around unless they’re up to no good. And now we gotta blow up the place.”
“Blow it up?” Sydney asked, playing the ingénue to perfection. “Why?”
“Wouldn’t take much to set it off. Nitroglycerin’s degraded. Couple of them sticks even rub together and boom!” He slammed his hand on the desk.
Sydney’s brows went up, and Griffin asked, “But what about Officer Walker’s dog? Can’t we at least get in there and take it out?”
“Like I said, too dangerous. Right now, my officers are under orders to arrest anyone who shows up. Afraid I can’t make any exceptions.”
“Even for photographs?” Sydney asked. “For our article?”
“Tell you what,” he said, steepling his fingers together. “You can take all the photos you want. As long as it’s outside the fence line. That’s the best I can do.” He made a show of looking at his watch, then standing. “You two got any other questions? I got a town council meeting I gotta get to.”
“Actually,” Griffin said, “there is one thing. Now, mind you, I’m not the investigative expert here or anything, but we heard rumors that maybe that dog’s waiting on that property because there’s a body buried there somewhere.”
“A body?” He shook his head. “Said it was beneath that rock pile by the broken wall?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I take it you been talking to Walker’s sister? Well, dog or no dog, I assure you there’s no dead body beneath that rock pile or anywhere else on the property.” He turned to his computer. “Who knows why the damned dog is there. Now this,” he said, typing something on the keyboard, “is a photo taken a couple years ago, when we decided to fence the house off, due to it being a public nuisance. Last thing we wanted was to be sued ’cause some drunk-ass kid fell in one of them old mine shafts that litter the area, never mind falling down the stairs in the abandoned house.” He waited while the article loaded, then turned the screen so Griffin and Sydney could see it. “You can see the fence crews working in the background. That puts it about two years ago. And there? Same broken wall. Same location. Same configuration. So unless someone went to the trouble of piling it up in exactly the same way, ain’t no way they moved ’em to bury a body there.”
“Is it possible to take a look ourselves? At least to retrieve the dog?”
“Can’t let you do that. Ain’t no reason that dog’ll get hurt where it’s at. Dynamite’s in the basement. Dog’s a few dozen yards away. Trust me. We got experts out there overseeing the whole thing, and they assure me that house is going straight down, not out. Ain’t no one gonna get hurt, as long as they stay outside the fence line.” He walked over to the door and opened it. “But tell you what. You want to be here in the morning when we blow up the place? I’ll
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