Free Dead by Dawn by Bret Wellman Page B

him hoped to find an intruder. By the time the cops got there they would find a dead intruder.
    Joe heard a noise in the living room and headed in that direction. He walked fast, knowing it would be useless to sneak on the old wood floors.
    He showed no fear as he stepped into the living room, shotgun drawn.
    The television was on. The screen flashed back and forth between no signal and scrambled. A glass of milk had been knocked over on the coffee table. Judging by the smell, it had been a while.
    The milk was another mess Rose would never let go untouched. The milk spilling in the first place would have enraged her. This could only mean that no one had been in this room for a while.
    Joe went back to the kitchen where they kept the phone and called the police.
    “Nine one one, state your emergency,” said the female operator.
    Joe sighed. “I think I’ve discovered a crime.”
    He had to hand it to police, their response time was pretty damn good. The sheriff pulled up in just over eight minutes. It was barely enough time for Joe to take his twelve gauge home and get back.
    “So the old man’s missing, is anyone inside?” asked Sheriff Brooks.
    “Not that I could see.”
    “Did you touch anything when you were in there?”
    “Just the phone.”
    The sheriff nodded. “Good. Wait out here.”
    Joe did as he was told and waited while the sheriff went inside. He was in there for a good ten minutes. In that time, three more police cruisers pulled up.
    “This is now a crime scene,” said the sheriff when he came back out, onto the front porch. “I think we could be looking at a possible homicide.”
    “A what?” Joe asked, his eyes going wide.
    “It’s standard procedure. As long as Charlie and Rose are missing we have to assume the worst.”
    A couple of cops began roping off the front porch. Joe sat on his tailgate, waiting to see if they would find anything.
    He glanced around at Charlie’s fields. Like Joe, he’d planted corn as well.
    Joe frowned. It’s going to be a long, hard harvest season if I have to harvest Charlie’s crops too.
    After a good half hour he decided there was more productive things he should spend his time doing and climbed into the cab of his truck. As soon as he started the engine the sheriff came over waving his hands.
    “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
    “I got a farm to run, Brooks.”
    “Well hang on, I have a few questions to ask.”
    “Shoot,” said Joe.
    “When did you notice something was wrong?” He pulled a small notepad out of his back pocket and prepared to write.
    “When somebody killed my dog and stuck its head on a fence.”
    “I mean today, run me through what happened.”
    “I called the house around one. When nobody answered the phone I came over here to make sure everything was all right. I entered the house, saw the blood on the floor and checked that no one was home. After that I called you guys.”
    “And that’s it. You didn’t do anything else?”
    “No.”
    “Alright, thanks. I needed a statement for my report.”
    “Can I go?,” asked Joe. “I got a lot of work to do.”
    “Sure,” said Brooks. “But we might contact you later.”
    “Do whatever you have to do officer.”
    Joe pulled away, leaving the old house and the cops in his rear view mirror. He had a plan, though it wasn’t a very good one. His body was boiling with rage and he was fully prepared to shoot the first son of a bitch he didn’t recognize on his property.
    Of course the chicken shit coward who broke into their house was probably in hiding.
    Joe recognized that he was making a lot of assumptions. If he was being honest with himself he still had no idea what was going on.
    He decided he would visit the neighboring farms once he finished with his work for the day. He would ask them all if they noticed any strangers wandering about. With any luck he could get a description.
    Hell, if he was really lucky he would walk in to find Charlie and Rose sitting