“Two deputies called in sick; the others simply hadn’t shown up. We stood at the edge of the barbed wire, warming our hands on cups of coffee, watching the woods. “I called the state patrol,” Skid finally said. “They’re sending some. Not till later, though.” We nodded. The sun was barely up, reluctant to shed light on the scene. I hadn’t slept well. Neither had Andrews from the look of him. “Hey. What were you two cooking up yesterday?” I said, scanning the deeper woods, mostly to delay our task.... “Yesterday?” Andrews gave it some thought, as if trying to remember his childhood. “You spent part of the day together.” I had to work to keep a needle point of paranoia at bay. “That’s right. I was mad at you,” Skidmore confessed. “I wanted to teach you a lesson. Andrews and me, we did some paperwork. Got more report from Dahlonega. Said the wound on Harding’s head was ‘consistent with the pathology of being struck a blow by a blunt instrument.’” “But they wouldn’t rule out the possibility,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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