Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“It’s brilliant, actually,” I reply. “It’s not like anyone would come up with that on their own.”
Dad nods to me. “Go on in, son.”
Does it have to be me? I suppose so, because I don’t want to be the one holding a gun on Doc Sheraton. For now, at least, no one can get me on assault with a deadly weapon. All I’ve done is point my weapon at a barn door.
No sounds come from the barn.
I want to be relieved, but that doesn’t mean much. Whoever is in there could be caged or otherwise imprisoned. I wish I had a flashlight. There are no windows in this building. None at all, and it’s dark as hell.
I walk in.
I inhale.
Yep, dog shit. Of course, if the dogs are forced to stay in here, they’re going to crap. Just like they did in the barn on our Colorado property.
“Anyone in here?” I call out.
No answer.
I walk slowly forward to let my eyes adjust.
I still can’t see a lot, but some blankets and buckets sit on one side of the large barn. No beds or anything, but a few heaters with propane tanks attached.
We’re nearing December. Do they really bring people here when it’s freezing? The heaters won’t do much. Maybe that’s why no one’s here. Maybe this is their offseason.
God…
I walk the perimeter of the barn, watching out for dog shit, though the crap seems to be concentrated in the front corner of the barn.
Do they really just leave the dogs in here?
If that isn’t animal cruelty, I don’t know what is. At least the hounds appear to be fed and otherwise healthy.
Still walking the perimeter, I stumble over something in my path.
I look down.
A bone.
A big bone.
Not too unusual. Dogs like bones.
I don’t want to touch the thing, but—
I gasp.
This doesn’t look like a beef bone. It looks…
It looks a lot like a human femur.
I swallow, but I can’t hold back the retch.
I puke.
I don’t want to be a wuss, but between the smell of dog shit, the knowledge of what goes on here, and now a human femur?
I’m not going to berate myself for doing what any normal human being would do.
“Dad?” I say.
“What is it, son?”
“We’re going to need flashlights. And Doc? You need to answer some hard questions.”
I pick up the femur, walk across the barn, and out the door.
Brittany gasps. “A bone?”
“Doc,” I say, “you’re a veterinarian. Tell me. What the hell kind of bone is this?”
He doesn’t reply.
I walk forward and hold the femur in front of Doc’s face. “I run a beef ranch. I’m well-versed in bovine anatomy and physiology. This is not a beef bone.”
“Son,” Dad says, his voice catching slightly, “that’s a human bone.”
“Yep,” I say. “I have a feeling I know why these dogs are so strong and well-fed.”
This time I’m able to hold back my heaves. Good thing I emptied my stomach in the barn.
“Christ, Doc,” Dad says. “How could you?”
Doc shakes his head. “I built the barns. That’s all I fucking did. I built the barns.”
“Your name is on the lease of this property,” I say. “You’re responsible for what goes on here.”
Doc struggles to stay on his feet. “I…”
I look over to the Dobermans. They’re well trained. Still lying down, still obeying Doc, but they’re very interested in the bone I’m holding.
“Are these dogs really locked inside that barn all the time?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Doc says. “All I did was build the barns.”
Dad rubs his forehead. “And supply the dogs.”
“For a price.”
“You’re a vet,” I say. “You’re supposed to love animals. These animals are kept locked inside here. They shit inside the barn. They feed on human remains.”
“We don’t know that,” Doc says.
I wave the bone in his face, and both of the dogs’ ears perk up.
“This is a fucking human femur. I found bones on our property, too. You say you know nothing. Maybe it’s true. I don’t fucking know, and I don’t fucking care. But someone is using our property to do this, trying to take us down, and I swear to God, if we go down, you’re coming with us.”
Dad clears his throat. “No one’s going down, Brock.”
I pace, still holding the femur. “How can we not? Look at this? Live cargo. Dead cargo. Dogs feasting on human remains. This is evil, Dad. It’s so evil.”
“Evil is holding my father at gunpoint,” Brittany says.
The back of my neck heats. Man, I’d love to clock this woman into next week. Yeah, I know the rule, and I won’t break it, but damn…
“I should’ve never gotten involved in this.” Doc shakes his head, pushes his hair back from his forehead.
“I’ve got news for you,” Dad says. “My family is not going down for this. But someone is. So you’re going to help us figure out who it is and who is behind all of this, or I will make sure it’s you who goes down.”