“I said to myself. “More bodies.” “Didn’t get you here to look at a body,” Ken said. Four TPD patrol units at the scene, turquoise and cherry lights still flashing, two unmarked detective’s cars. Several battery-powered lights about fifty feet into the vacant lot, no trees or landscaping, just scrub desert bushes limping low over the hardpan caliche ground. Under the lights, I saw Christopher Kyle maneuvering around on his arm crutches. “I’ve seen bodies,” I said. “All right.” Ken ducked under t...he yellow tape and had me sign the entry log. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be out of here before Kligerman arrives.” Crunching along slowly and uncertainly on the desert floor, using the floodlights to illuminate where we walked, we neared what looked like a jerry-rigged barbeque pit, nothing more than odd stones and a few bricks in a three-foot-wide irregular circle. Kyle saw us coming, shielded his eyes from the lighting glare, came forward a bit. “Ken. Laura. This is bad.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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