Free Justice Overdue: A Private Investigator Mystery Series by Rayven T. Hill Page A

higher education. He just didn’t care any more.
    Varick shook himself from memories of the unpleasant past and watched as the guy on the rock cast a line and slowly wound it in. He knew from experience, the waters were deeper in that area. He’d pulled a few lake bass from there himself in times past. He wondered how the guy knew about it. He must’ve been up here before as well.
    He would have to get rid of them somehow. Would he kill them? He would find it hard to kill the boys, but he would have no problem with offing the big guy. Or perhaps he would scare them away. There had to be a solution. This was his back yard, not theirs.
    He descended the grade to the tree line, hunched down out of sight, and watched them awhile. The kids still splashed in the water and the guy had caught a couple of nice-sized fish.
    They were going to be awhile longer. The guy had cast out again and he looked like he was in no hurry to leave. Might as well go back up to the site and check it out.
    He rose to his feet, made his way back up the grade, and entered the site. He looked into the tent. Not much there, some blankets, sleeping bags, a lantern, and that’s about it.
    He backed out and looked around. There was nothing of use at the campsite at all except a lawn chair. Better not touch that. Too obvious. He didn’t need it anyway.
    He peeked in the window of the SUV. Too bad he didn’t know how to break into these things. That’s where they kept all the good stuff. There was a whole cache of goodies inside. He checked all the doors. Locked. If only he could get ahold of the keys, surely he could liberate some items they wouldn’t miss. He returned to the tent, lifted the mattress, checked under the lantern, but the guy must’ve taken the keys with him.
    That would have to wait. There may be other campers further east where he could do a little shopping.
    The morning’s excursion hadn’t netted him much—nothing in fact, but it had killed a little time. He could always come back later.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 18
     
     
     
    Friday, 9:20 AM
     
    JAKE HAD CAUGHT a couple of nice-sized smallmouth bass. One would be enough for breakfast. He gave the smallest one back its freedom, packed up his gear, and wandered over to where the boys had tired of swimming and were building a sandcastle in a small sandy area of the beach.
    “Let’s go back up to the site, guys,” Jake said.
    Matty looked up and squinted away the sun. “Can we stay here a bit longer? We’re almost done with this.”
    Jake looked at their work of art. Not bad. Maybe he would have to show them how to do it right a little bit later. “Ok, just a few minutes. And don’t go back in the water without me around.”
    “We won’t, Mr. Lincoln.”
    Jake left the boys and hiked up the grade to the campsite, cleaned the fish, and soon got it sizzling over a fire. In a few minutes, Matty and Kyle appeared, and they devoured a meal of roast fish and baked potatoes. When they’d finished cleaning up, they packed their cooking utensils and the leftover fish in the SUV, climbed in, and headed for town.
    A couple of miles from the park entrance sat the small town of Whaleton. It wasn’t much to look at. The kind of town you might miss if you blink, barely a dot on any map. The village consisted of a handful of houses, an auto repair shop, and a small convenience store that served the surrounding neighborhood. A liquor outlet and a grocery store, along with an outdoor shop, occupied a small plaza further on.
    Jake pulled in front of the convenience store and they went inside. A pimply-faced man in his early twenties sat behind the counter, sucking on a popsicle and reading a magazine. He looked up as the newcomers entered, gave a nod, and buried himself back in his reading.
    “Got any newspapers?” Jake asked.
    The guy looked up, scratched at his cheek, and pointed to a rack near the door. “Yesterday’s paper right there.”
    “You don’t have today’s