BooksBarbecue
Back 55 Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. About the author
  60. Copyright

Chandler stared at Gabriel. The horror was etched on his face, tears of relief staining his dusty cheeks. This is where he could have found himself. Underneath one of these six mounds of dirt, including the one nearest to them that looked recent. At the most, it was a few days old, the soil retaining an element of darkness, not entirely devoid of moisture, the sun-scorched clay crusted like freshly baked pastry on top.

28

The smell hung in the air, the drying soil offering little resistance to the unforgiving aroma of decomposition underneath. As Chandler turned his head to the side to stifle a retch, he spotted Mitch pacing around in the background, mumbling into his iPhone, calling in the forensic team and providing running commentary on what had been discovered.

The atmosphere was burdened by the stench and a searing hot mix of tension, anticipation and sweat. Turning his head from the grave, he risked another breath. He was determined to be there when they uncovered it. As he inhaled the searing air he found himself staring at Gabriel who watched on from the side, chewing his nails in a look of apprehension and shock.

Chandler turned back to the scene. A whiff of what lay under the earth invaded his nostrils. He could resist no longer. Making for the bushes he deposited his breakfast. And made the first discovery. A pickaxe lazily hidden under some rocks. Around the handle was a ripped section of shirt. Green checks. Chandler recognized the pattern.

‘Over here!’ he shouted.

Mitch scooted over, trying to maintain an air of authority through his palpable delight.

Chandler pointed at it. ‘It matches Heath’s shirt.’

‘Good,’ said Mitch, before addressing them all, loudly. ‘This could be the breakthrough we need. Tape that area off for forensics to look at.’

As some of Mitch’s team set about this, Chandler took a minute. Heath. Their killer. That would explain the state of his hands when he had arrived in the station: blistering caused by hacking through hard earth. The piece of shirt used as protection. Chandler’s instinct had been wrong. Gabriel truly was the innocent party, merely trying to escape town and the clutches of a maniac.

Chandler had got it wrong. Completely wrong.

The forensic team funnelled out of the chopper as if dropped straight into a contagion zone, already bedecked in white smocks, equipment in unmarked cases. He didn’t envy having to wear one of those full-body jumpsuits out here in summer. The team of eight stormed past him without greetings, professionals on a mission, stopping only to shake hands with Mitch.

Chandler got up to join in and watched on as they set to work, the entire team dropping to their knees around the graves, sweeping layers of crumbled soil away with their fine brushes. Chandler wondered what state they would find the body in and whether they would discover clothing or skin first.