Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) by Anthony Strong (ebooks that read to you .TXT) 📕

“Can’t be sure until I have more information, but it feels like a hell of a coincidence. Crime scene is less than a mile away as the crow flies. I borrowed Robyn Miller’s car. I’m heading there now. I’ll text you the coordinates. You can meet me there.”

“Sure thing. We haven’t even made it halfway to Vegas yet.”

“Great. Then it won’t take you long to get there.” Fowler’s phone signal was breaking up. “I’m entering the canyon. I’ll send that text now in case I lose service.”

“Roger that,” Barnes replied, but Fowler had already hung up. He slowed the car, swung the wheel hard, and pulled a U-turn to head back in the other direction. “I guess our investigation just took a turn for the worse.”

“Looks that way,” Decker replied. He hoped the newly discovered bodies had nothing to do with the creature in the mine, but deep down he was sure they did.

Chapter Forty-One

When Decker and Barnes arrived at the coordinates Special Agent Fowler had sent, they discovered a hive of activity. Police cruisers were parked blocking the trail leading into the site where the two bodies lay, light bars silently flashing. Beyond this stood a couple of unmarked cars and two white vans-one marked Crime Scene Investigations and the other, Coroner.

Barnes came to a stop behind the police cruisers and together he and Decker made their way toward the activity, stepping between the parked vehicles. A uniformed officer came toward them, raising a hand to wave them off until Barnes flashed his FBI credentials.

As they approached the scene, Decker saw a red Jeep Cherokee parked several feet from a small tent. Nearby were the remains of a fire pit. But it was the two bodies, both laying on their back, that drew his attention. They were young, mid-20s. A man and a woman, probably a couple. Even before he drew close, Decker could see the massive injuries to their torsos. The skin had been flayed back, abdomens ripped open. A medical examiner was kneeling next to the woman, examining the corpse, while a crime scene photographer was circling the other victim snapping photographs.

When they drew close, Special Agent Fowler turned to meet them, a stony expression upon his face. He looked at Decker. “Hope you’re not squeamish.”

“I was a homicide cop in New York. Not squeamish.”

“Good. Because whatever tore these two up, did a fine job of it.” Fowler stepped aside to let his partner and Decker moved closer. “Glad I only had a light lunch, or it might make an encore appearance.”

Decker doubted that. Fowler was a seasoned FBI agent unlikely to be phased by the sight of a corpse, no matter what its condition. He glanced toward the bodies. “What do we know so far?”

“Victims are Darwin Andoe and Tiffany Kent. Twenty-six and twenty-four, according to their driver’s licenses. Obviously out here together. They were sharing one tent.”

“How were they found?”

“Family on vacation from Pittsburgh. They wanted to see a real Western ghost town. They found a Yelp review of the unofficial tours that old man Carlton used to give and thought it would be a neat afternoon out. Hadn’t even heard of the killings in the mine.”

“So how did they end up here?”

“Took a wrong turn. Don’t ask me how when every car has GPS.”

“Huh. That was fortuitous. Might have been weeks before these bodies were found otherwise.”

“Someone would have come across them, eventually. This area is a pretty popular camping spot. I came out here a few times myself back in the day, when it still felt like an adventure to sleep outdoors on the hard ground instead of in a soft bed.”

“You don’t strike me as the camping type,” Decker said, looking at Fowler. “No offense.”

“No offense taken. I’m older and wiser now. Camping just seems like an unnecessary hardship.”

Decker’s eyes drifted back to the pair of corpses. “We have a time of death?”

“Sometime between midnight and six, according to the coroner. We should be able to pin that down further once we get them back to the lab.”

Decker scratched his chin. The girl was wearing flannel pajamas, or rather, what was left of them. The male was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but no shoes or socks. A pistol lay nearby in the dirt. Decker’s gaze strayed from the bodies toward the tent. The flap was open. A ruffled sleeping bag was visible within. “They were asleep before the attack. Their killer must’ve woken them.”

“Why do you say that?” Fowler asked.

“Look at the sleeping bag inside the open tent. Plus, the man isn’t wearing shoes or socks, which denotes he dressed in a hurry. The girl is still in her night attire, so she probably sent him out first to look around and then followed when she became worried about him. There’s a gun too. If you check, I bet you’ll find it’s been fired, but it didn’t do any good.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Sure, I can. Whatever roused them from their sleep was disturbing enough to warrant grabbing a gun before investigating. Under the circumstances, it’s more than likely they would use that gun when faced with a deadly threat. Obviously, it was a waste of time because both victims are deceased.” Decker studied the surrounding area. “There isn’t any blood to indicate they injured their attacker, and no third body, so firing the gun achieved nothing.”

“Makes sense.” Fowler nodded.

“And we don’t need to speculate on the time of death. It was around 2 AM.”

“The gunshots you heard last night.”

“Precisely. I bet we’re not more than a mile from the ghost town. A mile and a half at most. The sound of gunshots can travel pretty far, especially in a landscape like this where they can echo off the rocks and canyon walls. There’s also no noise pollution to mask the shots out here.”

“That still leaves the question of who killed these people,” Barnes said, speaking for the first time since they’d