“But much as a man matured, he stayed the same man. With the same fears. The sheriff of Ashburn County steeled himself as best he could, pure will forcing emotional detachment, refusing to be swayed by the horrors that he would witness. Then he went into the bedroom. There was blood. A lot of blood. Painted in black Jackson Pollock madness, thrown across the bedspread, the walls, the carpet. But there were no bodies.Streng’s shoes made squishing sounds as he walked to the closet, its sliding doo...r closed. He opened it fast, stepping back, pointing the flashlight inside. The beam exposed some hanging shirts and a laundry hamper. Where were they? Who could have taken them? Santiago and Ajax didn’t have time to dispose of the bodies—they’d been right behind Streng and Josh. Unless … Unless they came back for them.The gray hairs on Streng’s arms pricked out like a porcupine, and he had that tingle/surge in his belly that brought instant flop sweat. He could feel the sniper rifles aimed at him, ready to fire, and knew he had to get out of there as fast as possible.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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