Butcher

I walked to the newspaper-wrapped bundle, looked at the mud smears on it—and at another brown stain. Then I gripped a corner of the paper and unwrapped it from the thing inside.

I didn’t know what it was at first. But two minutes later, using the phone in a nearby house, I was talking to my good friend, Phil Samson, Captain of Central-Homicide. “Sam, this is Shell. Get somebody out here on Chavez Ravine Road. I think I’ve found a—a leg.”

© 2022 Wildside Press (Rafbók): 9781667660271

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Rafbók: 26 oktober 2022