Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (rooftoppers txt) 📕

his arm around his wife, staring blankly and not speaking. Manny watched them for a moment and then caught the attention of the second deputy standing by and waved him over.

“Detective Manny Benitez, Sycamore Hills PD,” he introduced himself quietly as the taller man came over. He offered his hand.

“Deputy Martin,” he responded, grasping Manny’s hand and giving it a quick shake. Whatever was being said over at the couch was clearly occupying his thoughts.

“Why don’t we step into the kitchen for a second, and you can fill me in, Deputy,” Manny suggested, moving away from the living room. They walked a few steps together before he turned around to face the man again. Manny lowered his voice. “Could you fill me in on the family, Deputy?” he said, flipping his notebook to a blank page. “Please,” he added.

“Deputy Hargrove over there has been handling most of the questioning, but it seems that the husband, Tom Lowes, woke up a little before four this morning and went down to the kitchen for a drink of water. He spotted the blaze and called 9-1-1 immediately before going back upstairs to wake his wife and kids and get them somewhere safe, in case the fire spread to the house. That’s when he noticed their son, Jacob, was missing from his bed. We just informed them of the body that was discovered in the fire. I only got a quick look at it, but Hargrove got a better one. It sure looks like a small child to us. Obviously, the parents believe it’s their son. Hargrove is trying to assure them that we haven’t confirmed that yet, so there’s hope, but let’s be real, right?” Martin shook his head. “It’s a real son-of-a-bitch we got here, Detective.”

“Clearly,” Manny said, finishing his last note and looking up at the deputy. He was a few years older than Manny, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he hadn’t seen much like this in his career. Likely enough, law enforcement hadn’t been his original career choice. “Lowes,” he thought out loud. “Why does the name Tom Lowes ring a bell?”

“Maybe you’ve seen him on those billboards just outside of town?” offered Martin.

“That’s it. He owns that real estate brokerage. Supposed to be one of the best around.”

“Yeah, he’s all over. Helped my sister and brother-in-law with their home last fall,” Martin said. “Funny thing is, I was thinking about calling him up and seeing about buying a home myself. Supposed to be a good time.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Manny. “What about the wife? Any idea what she does?”

“Consultant of some kind? She didn’t really describe it. All I know is she mostly works from home so she can be around the kids. Do you think that’s important?”

“You never know what might turn out to be important in an investigation like this,” said Manny, placing a hand on the deputy’s shoulder. “I like having all the details. Thanks for the information. I think I’ll head out to the back and check in with the CSI. When you guys are done, though, I’d like to have a few words with the family myself, if that’s all right.”

“I’m sure Hargrove can get you a copy of his notes just as easily,” replied Martin, “but if you want to make them go and repeat everything, I guess I can’t stop you.” He shrugged and nodded to Manny as he turned and headed back into the living room.

Manny nodded to the deputy’s back and turned to the sliding glass door that led out to the backyard. Two more deputies from the sheriff’s department were standing on either side of a large pile of burnt wood, behind which a slight, dark-haired woman crouched, gently picking through the debris with a pair of long tweezers. He pulled out his badge to show one of the deputies that he did indeed belong on site, but was waved in almost before he had opened it. They had obviously been expecting him.

“You must be Stacey,” he said as he circled around the woodpile and stood behind her. He could just make out the blackened skull of the victim grinning at him over her right shoulder. The rest was obscured by her back. She didn’t turn around and continued her work as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your work,” he continued awkwardly. “I’m Manny, Detective Manny Benitez, Sycamore Hills PD.”

“You can call me Dr. Winherst,” she said pointedly, without getting up, “and if you’d like to make small talk, at least make yourself useful and help me bag some of these samples. There’s a box of gloves on the ground in front of you. Please use them.”

“Why don’t you take me through what you’ve found so far, before I step over there and mess up your process.” Manny tried to sound as authoritative as possible in order to gain some semblance of control over the situation.

“Very well, Detective.” He thought he caught a hint of sarcasm put on the last word and was almost positive he caught a roll of the eyes and a smirk as she rose to her feet. Despite the fact that she had to raise her head to a great degree to look into his eyes, Manny felt as if she were towering over him as she spoke. Her reputation for intensity had not been oversold.

“Your boys at the fire department did a satisfactory job putting out the blaze carefully, once they realized what they had, so I was able to get plenty of samples and get a good look at the body without having to move it. Early indications show a pre-pubescent male, maybe nine or ten years old.”

“So you’re thinking it’s the Lowes’ son?”

“Don’t interrupt me, Detective! There isn’t any scientific evidence to make that conclusion right now.”

“It’s called an intuitive leap, Doctor,” he replied. “The family can’t find their son, and we have a body that matches his in their own backyard.