Free The Last Town (Book 4): Fighting the Dead by Stephen Knight Page B

to secure Grady’s pistol. She held it in her left hand, already ensconced in a plastic bag that Corbett surmised was for preserving evidence.
    Inside the kitchen, an older cop Corbett didn’t know was photographing the body. Mike Hailey stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, his eyes blank and emotionless. To Corbett, it looked like the boy was in shock. And he had every right to be—not only had he seen two zombies up close in just a few days, one of them had been his boss, and he’d had to put him down.
    “Okay, we’re coming in,” Corbett said, looking at the older cop with the digital camera.
    “Oh, gosh, you probably shouldn’t do that,” he said. His voice was high and reedy, and his big nose was covered with a spider web of veins that told Corbett the guy was a veteran boozer. He didn’t recognize him, though he appeared to be around Victor’s age.
    “Who are you?” Corbett asked.
    “John Lasher,” the man said. “Officer John Lasher.”
    “Officer Lasher, I’m Barry Corbett. Are you from Single Tree, perhaps?”
    “Oh no, no. Not at all. I’m from Ridgecrest. I came up here a couple of years ago to get away from all that action down south.”
    “There’s action in Ridgecrest?” Norton asked absently, still staring at Grady’s body.
    “Dani, take Norton outside, would you?” Corbett said.
    Norton looked up and shook his head, visibly steeling himself. “No. No, I’m good.”
    “Mister Corbett, I’ve heard of you,” Lasher said. He reached down and hitched up his pants, which were sagging low due to his rather large belly. “Are you really a billionaire?”
    “Yeah. Anyway, you done with your pictures?”
    “Well ...” Lasher turned and looked back at Hailey, who finally looked away from the body of his dead boss.
    “You guys can come in,” Hailey said. “Just be careful not to disturb any of ... any of the evidence.”
    “In other words, don’t step in any gore,” Victor clarified. “Like Officer Lasher, there.” He pointed at a bloody scuff mark that bore a boot tread, and Lasher looked down in shock.
    “Oh, my,” he said, mortified to see what he had done.
    Corbett pushed into the kitchen, stepping around Grady’s corpse. He paused for a moment to inspect it, then pushed on into the living room. Victor followed, then Danielle, who took great care not to step on anything that might be important. Norton brought up the rear. Suzy Kuruk remained in the carport.
    Estelle had been carted off already along with the prisoner Victor had managed to arrest. Inside, two more bodies lay in a tangled heap. On top was a Latino man with thick, tattoo-covered arms. He had been shot several times in the torso, and once in the head. Beneath him was a smaller white man, whose face had been savaged. It was obvious the Latino had turned into a stench and attacked him. The smaller man had been shot as well, and Corbett noticed all the shell casings in the room were from a .45. The cops all carried nine-millimeters, even Suzy out in the carport. Only Victor was a .45 man, like Corbett himself.
    “I shot them both,” Victor said quietly.
    “Had the second one turned?” Corbett asked. He turned and looked at Victor. “The one on the bottom?”
    “Of course,” Victor said, but something flickered in his eyes. Corbett understood. The smaller man hadn’t turned yet, but he would. Victor and his beloved Sig P220 had taken care of that, then and there.
    “Looks like someone went out the back,” Danielle said, pointing to the open sliding glass door.
    “Oh, yes,” Lasher said helpfully. “That’s where we think the other convicts escaped from. We checked the rest of the house very carefully, there’s no one else in here.” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Um, may I start documenting this scene, please?” He held up his camera.
    “Sure. Sure,” Corbett said. “Guys, let’s step outside. Hailey, can you come with us?”
    “Yeah, all right,”