Free On Her Father's Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 1) by Kendra Elliot Page B

knocked on the door, peeked in a few windows. She didn’t see any signs of life. She went back to her car and radioed dispatch.
    “It’s quiet. The car is here but I don’t see the officer. I called for him and no answer. I’m going to check the outbuildings.”
    Dispatch paused. “He’s not answering his radio. Stay with your vehicle until backup arrives.”
    Stevie sat in the hot sun, her door open, wondering how long it’d take the next car to arrive. Paul’s empty vehicle was disturbing her.
    Then the screams started.
    Her heart in her throat, Stevie leaped out of her vehicle, her hand on her weapon. She took two steps in the direction of the barn behind the small home and then stopped. She grabbed her radio and reported the screams. Male screams.
    “Oh my God.” She wanted to slam her hands over her ears.
    “Wait for your backup,” came the dispatcher’s voice.
    “No! They’re killing him,” she shouted at her radio, her feet glued to the ground. Every nerve in her brain shouted for her to find Paul, but her training made her stay put. “I’m waiting,” she whispered, feeling like she was about to physically split in half. She shuddered. The screams stopped, then started up again.
    A second car pulled in beside her and Luis Madero stepped out, his eyes widening as he heard the screams. He spoke into his radio and gestured with his head for Stevie to follow him.
    Stevie’s training kicked in and she moved automatically, working in unison with Luis as if they were in a training exercise. Her brain shifted into autopilot, tuning out the screams. At the door to the barn, Luis gestured for her to enter and the scene burned itself on Stevie’s brain.
    Paul was being held down on the floor of the barn by three men while a fourth poured a liquid over his face. The men wore heavy-duty protective gear, gas masks, and gloves; Paul had nothing. An odor assaulted Stevie’s nose and her eyes started to water. Luis shouted and the men looked up. All four made the decision to run. Stevie holstered her gun and grabbed the hose from outside the barn, dragging it toward Paul and holding her breath. She stood back and sprayed the cop, rinsing the clear substance from his skin.
    She didn’t know what it was, but she knew she had to get rid of it. She dimly heard Luis radio for an ambulance. She glanced at the jug that the liquid had come from. Someone had written “HCL” on the side with a black marker.
    Her brain tugged a name out of the little-used high school chemistry section of its memories: hydrochloric acid .
    She inhaled, which made her lungs burn and more tears stream from her eyes. But she didn’t know if it was a result of the liquid or the sight of Paul’s burned face and peeling skin.
    Stevie shuddered at the memory and refocused on Ted Warner’s information on her patrol car’s computer. It’d been six months since she’d walked into hell in that barn. She wiped at her dripping nose and the tears that’d leaked from her eyes. She still saw Paul’s ruined face when she tried to sleep at night. Or when a place like Ted Warner’s poked at her memories. LA had lost what little remaining luster it’d held for her after that incident. Meth labs were everywhere, but she’d hoped that maybe at home, there’d be fewer of them.
    And perhaps, just maybe, the criminals wouldn’t be as cruel.
    She swallowed hard, put the car in drive, and headed back to the office to ask if any of the other officers found it odd that obnoxious Ted Warner was driving the nicest truck in town.

    Zane tapped his pen as he sat across the table from Grace Ellis and her parents. The three of them had shown up ten minutes ago, Grace with red eyes and her parents with determined looks on their faces. Zane had wanted to interview Hunter’s girlfriend after reading Stevie’s notes from her interview, but had hoped to learn the type of compound in Hunter’s blood first.
    There’d been a moment of confusion when Grace’s