Free Blood Secrets by Jeannie Holmes Page A

frame near her head. “You may want to hold on to that ‘oh shit’ bar. This is going to get a little rough.”
    She barely had time to catch the bar before he guided the Mule into a shallow gully. Muddy water splashed up from the wheels, spattering her pants with brown and orange.
    He gunned the engine and spurred the vehicle up the opposite side and back onto an overgrown path. They slowed as a chain-link fence and a row of metal frames that had once been cars came into view.
    Buddy stopped beside a section of the fence sporting bright red stakes woven through the links and driven into the ground. He pointed to the stakes as he and Tasha stepped from the cart. “Before I found the car, I noticed the fence here had been cut and pulled back. See these tracks?” He waved his hand over the ground in front of them.
    Tasha noted the wide swath of grass and weeds that appeared to have been crushed. “Looks like something big was pulled through the fence.”
    “My guess is whoever dumped the car here cut the fence and either pushed or dragged it in.”
    “And the stakes in the fence?”
    “Temporary repair. I’m going to have to replace this entire section here but at least this keeps the deer from wandering through.”
    “Who owns the property on the other side?”
    “That’s part of the old Cottonwood Plantation. It used to belong to Benjamin Corman but he passed away a few years ago. I’m not sure who owns it now.”
    Tasha nodded, making a mental note to visit the plantation.
    Buddy motioned for her to follow him. “After I saw the fence, I followed the tracks and found the car over here.”
    As they approached a battered dark blue Ford Focus, the slight wind that had been rustling the dried leaves of a nearby sweet gum tree picked up, carrying with it the unmistakable odor of decay.
    Tasha grabbed Buddy’s arm, halting him. “I need you to stay back here.”
    He covered his nose with his hand and nodded, his face pale.
    A gnawing sense of dread ate at her brain. She drew her sidearm, startling the salvage yard owner. Tasha picked her way through the tall grass toward the Ford,keeping her nine-millimeter Beretta pointed toward the ground but poised to swing into a firing position at any moment.
    She studied the vehicle as she carefully approached from the side. It sported heavy dents in the sides, roof, and hood. The windshield had been shattered from what appeared to be multiple impacts. A quick glance showed glass shards on the floor and backseat as well as dark stains on both front bucket seats.
    She moved to the trunk, and the stench of rot worsened, forcing her to fight against her natural reaction to gag. A breeze blew over the car, swaying the partially open trunk and driving another wave of putrid odor into Tasha’s face.
    She searched the ground for something to open the trunk without contaminating the scene with her fingerprints. She found a length of a broken oak branch, and holding it in one hand while readying her Beretta in the other, she wedged the branch into the gap between the trunk and tailgate and levered it open.
    It took her mind several seconds to piece together what she saw lying in the dark well of the trunk. Once the mosaic clicked into place, forming a complete picture, Tasha stumbled away and retched into a patch of weeds.
    “You okay, ma’am?” Buddy called to her.
    Tasha held up her hand to signal she was fine and for him to stay back. She used a spare tissue she found in her pocket to wipe her mouth and then pulled out her cell phone. She hit a button and the phone dialed a preset number.
    “Jefferson Police Department,” a woman’s voice answered. “How may I direct your call?”
    “This is Lieutenant Tasha Lockwood. I need a forensics team, a flatbed tow truck, and the coroner to cometo Coone’s Pull-n-Go Salvage Yard right away. I think I just located Mindy Johnson.”
    Ecstasy encased Peter’s mind. His body shivered with the remembered thrill of feeling her so