Free The Uninvited by William W. Johnstone

Lapeer. We’ve checked with other lawmen around the area. They report nothing unusual. We’ve got three people who have been eaten.” He swallowed hard. “Eaten by something, and a herd of cattle gone. Presumably eaten by the same unknown.”
    â€œOh, come on, Al!” Jimmy jumped to his feet, his face flushed with anger. “Shit! You’ve got Dr. Ashley’s report right by your hand. We’ve all read it. Billy Oldroyd was full of bugs. He’d been eaten by bugs. Granted, we didn’t find any bugs at the Cole place, but you know damn well no human being would have done that.”
    â€œJimmy!” Sheriff Ransonet pointed a finger at the young deputy.
    â€œNo, let him finish,” Al said. “Let him get it all out of his system. He’s upset, and I don’t blame him.”
    â€œAl,” Jimmy pleaded with the FBI man. “I saw them. I saw thousands of them.”
    â€œI know you did, Jimmy. I believe you. But what more can I do?”
    The young cop shook his head and sat down, angry.
    â€œAre you going to inform the Police Jury?” Al asked the Sheriff.
    â€œFuck the Police Jury!” Vic said. “What would they do except run around in circles, getting in everybody’s way, muddying up the waters?”
    The ringing phone stopped all further discussion. Vic’s buzzer sounded. Sheriff Ransonet listened for a moment. “I see,” he said softly. “All right, Mrs. Eagles, we’ll get right on it. You just calm down, now. The kids probably had car trouble—got stuck. That was quite a storm last night. Sure, I’ll get back to you just as soon as I hear something.” He gently placed the phone in its cradle.
    â€œNow, what?” Al asked.
    â€œThat’s Judy Eagles’s mother. Judy had a date with Mickey Dubois last night. The kids didn’t come back—at least not to her house.”
    â€œHow come she waited this long to report it?” the FBI man asked. “And why didn’t the boy’s parents report it?”
    â€œShe said the Duboises are out of town. Mrs. Eagles said she went to bed early last night. She thought she heard Judy come in about midnight, but her bed hasn’t been slept in. She called us as soon as she discovered the empty bed.”
    Vic?” Slick said softly. “You know as well as me where the kids like to park.”
    â€œOh?” Al glanced at him. “And where is that?”
    â€œDown the road a couple of miles from the Cole farm,” Vic said grimly. “Slick? You and Chuck take a run out there. Look around. And be careful,” he added.
    â€œDon’t you worry ’bout that,” Slick assured him.
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    Hal Johnson sat in the den of his empty house, staring at the walls. He had been drinking and napping all night and most of the morning. He had prowled all the bars and motels in the Parish, looking for his wife. But she was not to be found. He had called Ruthie’s house. No answer. Jane’s house. Same thing. He had tried several other numbers with the same results. The man was getting angry all over again. His wife had left him. She had to have taken off with another man; her car was in the drive. He sighed. Maybe if they’d had kids it would have worked out.
    The phone rang. “Hal? Sam. Have you seen Ruthie?” He sounded embarrassed.
    Hal sat up straight in the chair, suddenly sober, as if a tub of cold water had been dumped on him. “No, Sam, I haven’t. Beth is gone, too.”
    â€œWhat! Damn it, Hal, I’ve been going nuts all night. I called your house a dozen times, but you didn’t answer.”
    I was out lookin’ for Beth—prowlin’ the bars. And the motels, too. Come on down, Sam, let’s talk this thing around. Something’s wrong.”
    Ten minutes later the men sat in the den, drinking coffee. “Neither one of us has had any marriage problems,” Sam said.