Page 6 of Rage

Shit.

“Chief.”

I set the hand back where I found it and turn.

Glock is twenty feet away, looking down at a low rise of disturbed earth. “I’ve got part of … looks like a leg over here. Partly buried.”

Something inside me sinks, an anvil plummeting into the dark depths of a pit. Until now, I’d been holding on to the hope that this is some innocuous mishandling of hospital biohazard.

I get to my feet and cross to him. I’m not squeamish, but the sight of a severed human leg puts an uncomfortable quiver in my gut. The foot is still attached, bare, and in a fixed position. The knee is bent at a forty-five-degree angle. The top of the thigh is little more than a jagged piece of red-black meat.

“Damn,” I mutter.

Glock kneels next to the body part and indicates the torn flesh of the stub. “It looks like there’s been scavenger activity,” he says.

As much as I don’t want to think about an animal chewing on or consuming human flesh, a closer look tells me he’s right. “Teeth marks on the bone,” I hear myself say.

“Looks that way.”

Because that macabre length of human flesh is so difficult to look at, I find my eyes moving to the torn-up ground just beyond where he’s standing. That’s when I spot the paw print.

“Some kind of animal prints there.” I go to it and kneel. “Dog or coyote.”

Glock comes up beside me. “Coyote,” he says.

I shoot him a questioning look.

“Coyote prints are narrower with more defined claws.” He shrugs. “Went hunting with my dad last fall.”

I nod, as troubled as I am uneasy. The back of my neck prickles and I find my eyes skimming the trees and brush around us.

“It looks like multiple holes have been dug,” Glock says.

I force my attention back to our macabre find. “This was no hiker or hunter who collapsed from natural causes.”

He nods. “It looks like these body parts were buried. Coyotes smelled them and dug them up.”

I get to my feet and look around. “This is a pretty out-of-the-way place,” I say. “Someone chose this place because they didn’t want this found.”

He grimaces. “I hate to say it, Chief, but I’m betting there are more body parts in the vicinity.”

I nod, frowning because my mind has taken the exact same route. “We don’t have the resources to investigate this on our own,” I say.

A smile touches his mouth. “I hear you know a guy at BCI.”

I smile back, but the exchange does little to loosen the knot of dread tightening in my gut. “Let’s clear out,” I say. “Get the area taped off.”

CHAPTER 3

I hit the speed dial for John Tomasetti as I make my way toward the Explorer. He’s an agent with the Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigation and my significant other—not necessarily in that order.

He picks up on the second ring. “My favorite chief of police,” he says. “I was just thinking about you.”

“I may not be your favorite chief after I tell you why I’m calling.” I tell him about the grisly discovery.

“No one said being married to you was going to be easy.” But his voice has gone serious.

“In more ways than one,” I say. “How’s your caseload?”