A Lawman's Justice. Delores Fossen

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      He stood there a moment so his eyes could adjust to the darkness, and then he had a look around. It was basically just one giant room with what appeared to be an office on his left and an exit straight ahead. There was another room with its door closed on the right side of the building.

      Boxes and other debris were scattered around, and the place smelled like a giant dust ball. Roaches skittered across the floor. It’d been more than six months since it’d been used to house the black market babies, and it was obvious no one had cleaned it since then.

      He stepped inside the building. Bracketing his shooting wrist with his other hand, he pivoted in all directions.

      Nothing.

      And no sounds to indicate anyone else was inside.

      Seth didn’t let down his guard, though. He kept his gun ready and went to the office door. What was left of it anyway. It was hanging on just one hinge, and it squeaked and swayed a little when he moved past it.

      Creepy, but no one was in the office.

      Behind him he heard Shelby fumbling around, and she pulled a penlight from her back jeans’ pocket. Seth took out his as well, and they clicked them on at the same time.

      “If you find anything, don’t touch it,” Seth warned her.

      She made a “duh” sound and fanned the light over the ceiling, then the floor. Seth didn’t see anything suspicious, but the dozen or so boxes could have something in them. He went in the direction of the nearest one, aiming his flashlight on the floor in front of him.

      And he came to a dead stop.

      Oh, no. Not that.

      He stooped down, garnering Shelby’s attention because she hurried over to him. Seth moved the light closer so he could get a better look.

      There was a plate-size area of shiny liquid on the concrete floor.

      “Is that blood?” Shelby asked.

      Seth didn’t touch it, but it sure looked like blood to him. And it was fresh at that, with no dry spots even around the edges. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it took a pool of blood that big to start drying in a hot building, but he didn’t think it was hours.

      More likely, minutes.

      He stood, practically snapping to attention, and had another look around. Seth still didn’t see anyone. Especially not someone with an injury serious enough to cause that kind of blood loss. However, a few of those boxes were large enough for someone to hide behind.

      Seth kept watch around them, and he took out his phone so he could hand it to Shelby. “Call 9-1-1 and request officers on the scene.”

      Thankfully, she did it without hesitation or arguing. The dispatcher would direct the call to the Sweetwater Springs sheriff’s office. To Seth’s stepbrother, Sheriff Cooper McKinnon. And while Seth and he weren’t exactly on friendly terms, he knew Cooper would do his job and get out here fast. This was likely a crime scene, and it needed to be processed.

      And maybe more.

      Maybe someone here needed medical attention. First, though, Seth had to find out where that someone was.

      He fanned the light over the floor again. More blood. Big drops that looked as if they’d splattered from at least a few feet of distance. The drops didn’t lead to the first box, but he checked it out anyway.

      Nothing.

      So he moved on, following the blood trail. Past all the boxes and the trash. The trail stopped right outside the room with the closed door.

      Of course it did.

      This couldn’t be easy. That closed door could conceal the very person responsible for that blood loss. Or someone who was dying. Either way, Seth had to check it out.

      He looked back at Shelby. “This would be a good time for you to go back to your car and wait for Cooper.”

      Her chin came up, and even with just the dim light, he saw the resolve in her eyes.

      Seth could have arrested her and gotten her butt out of there. But that would take time and it’d mean a trip back to town. He really just wanted to see if anything was behind the door. Anything to do with the black market baby ring. Or his stepmother.

      “Okay,” Seth told Shelby when she didn’t budge. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      Seth put his flashlight away to free up his hand, and he opened the door. It was pitch-black because the light from the windows didn’t reach back there. Shelby did something about that. She turned her flashlight into the room.

      And she gasped.

      “Hell,” Seth cursed.

      They’d found the source of the blood, all right.

      There was a mattress, the sheets stark white except for the dark red stains. And there in the center was a body. A male wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. The guy wasn’t moving, and his skin was as white as the sheets.

      Shelby was still holding up her flashlight, and Seth took her wrist to turn the light into the four corners of the room. No one was lurking there. So he aimed the light on the mattress. It was flat on the floor, so no one was beneath it, but he checked around all sides. As far as he could tell, no one was there.

      “Don’t go in the room,” Seth ordered when Shelby started to move. “It’s a crime scene.”

      And this time Shelby actually listened to him. A miracle. But she did keep her flashlight aimed at the body.

      “What’s that on his face?” she asked.

      Since there were no indications that anyone was about to jump out at him, Seth took out his own flashlight again and leaned in closer, putting himself between Shelby and the body. He soon saw the probable cause of death.

      Multiple stab wounds to the chest.

      It was hard to count how many because of the blood, but there were plenty of them. Seth aimed the light on the dead guy’s head, and his heart slammed against his chest.

      Oh, hell.

      “What’s that on his face?” Shelby repeated, moving to the side so she could no doubt see better.

      “A paper mask,” Seth answered.

       Of sorts.

      It looked as if someone had enlarged a photo and then cut it out to create an image to cover the dead man’s face.

      “A mask?” Shelby leaned in. And she gasped again. “That’s a picture of my father.”

      Yeah, it was. Whitt Braddock. The very man Seth’s mother was accused of murdering.

      “Oh, God,” Shelby mumbled, and she just kept saying it. “Who’d do such a sick thing?”

      Seth had to shake СКАЧАТЬ