The Amish man lies unmoving in a prone position with his face turned away. His arms are spread wide. Hands gone, the sleeves of his shirt shredded and blood soaked. One leg is bent at the knee and crossed over the other. A massive pool of blood has been trampled by dozens of cloven hooves.

I tilt my head to my lapel mike. “What’s the ETA on that ambulance?” But I know it’s too late.

“Paramedics just arrived at the house, Chief,” comes T.J.’s voice. “Want me to send them back?”

“That’s affirm. Make it fast.”

I don’t want to go into the pen. I don’t want to see what the hogs did to Kaufman. I don’t want the sight branded onto my brain. I don’t have a choice. I’m a first responder and EMT certified. It’s my responsibility to take every action necessary to preserve life until help arrives.

The gate squeaks when Glock swings it wider. We start toward the fallen man. The stench of manure is powerful, but I barely notice. I can smell the blood now. Too much of it for anyone to have survived.

“This is going to be bad,” Glock mutters.

I stop a few feet away and look down at Kaufman. His shirt and suspenders are shredded and have been torn away from his body. His torso is riddled with bite marks. The flesh on his abdomen is torn, and something gray with blue veins protrudes from the gash. Bile rises into the back of my throat when I look at his face. His eyes stare sightlessly into space. His right cheek has been torn open, exposing the gums and teeth and part of his jawbone. His right ear is gone. His hands are gone. The stumps of his wrists are jagged flesh and the pink-white of protruding bone.

“That’s some disturbing shit,” Glock mutters.

I don’t know what to say to that. I’m not sure I can speak even if I try.

Digging into his equipment belt, he digs out a latex glove and slips it onto his right hand. Kneeling, he presses his index finger against Kaufman’s carotid artery.

After a moment, he lowers his head and gives a single shake. “He’s toast.”

*   *   *

The next hours pass in a blur. Abigail Kaufman is taken into custody and transported to the Holmes County Jail in Holmesville. The county prosecutor will have to sort through an array of charges, ranging from the attempted murder of a peace officer, attempted murder for what she did to her parents, and first-degree murder for the poisoning death of her husband. That’s not to mention Kaufman. Since she implicated her brother in the death of Leroy Nolt, two additional Holmes County deputies were dispatched to Abram Kaufman’s farm to bring him in for questioning.