Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) Anthony Strong (popular romance novels .TXT) 📖

“Great. No wonder they haven’t come back yet.”

Harlan came to a halt and waited for Wagner to draw level. He pointed his flashlight down the empty tunnel. “This is a waste of time. Maybe you’re right. Let’s go back to the hotel. We’ll find more workers and try again tomorrow.”

“And if the Mexicans find their way out?”

“They can thumb a ride back to Vegas.” Harlan was already heading back toward the entrance. “Or they can sit here and wait for us to come back. Either way, I don’t care.”

“Suits me.” Wagner hurried to keep up with his boss.

They stepped back out into the cool desert air. Harlan pushed through the bushes clogging the path leading up to the mine on his way back to the truck. When he realized Wagner wasn’t following, he turned back, perplexed. “You coming, or what?”

Wagner was back near the mine entrance, peering inside. “They might be coming. I hear something.”

“About freaking time.” Harlan took a step forward, eager to see what the two men had found inside the tunnels. “Tell them to hurry.”

But Wagner didn’t answer. He stood transfixed, gazing into the darkness beyond the mine entrance.

“Wagner?” Harlan drew closer. “You hear me?”

Still nothing.

Harlan was about to weave his way through the prickly bushes one more time on his way back to the general manager, when he noticed an emaciated figure in the tunnel, approaching through the darkness.

He faltered, stopped.

His heart raced.

A blast of chill air swept past him. And with it came a foul odor, like rotting flesh. But worst of all were the eyes. Two glowing red coals that held him, enthralled. While inside his head a soft voice whispered, and even though he didn’t understand the language, he knew what it wanted.

Yet he couldn’t run, despite the terror that tightened his chest and made his eyes grow wide. He willed himself to move but could not make his legs obey. And when the creature came into view, a demon conjured from the depths of hell with a rakish frame and translucent skin stretched so tight it looked like it would tear, he still didn’t run. Because even though Harlan Biggs knew that he would die if he stayed there, even though he saw the horrific things it was doing at that moment to his friend, Wagner Mitchell, a part of Harlan embraced the voice inside his head that promised everything would be alright. That if he just let it happen, a swift release from this world was imminent, and all his problems would go away. After a little pain, of course…

Chapter Forty-Three

The Clark County Coroner’s Office was a squat one-story tan colored building occupying an entire block west of the interstate in downtown Las Vegas not far from the outlet mall and Fremont Street, where legal gambling first sprung up in the city back in 1931.

It was getting dark, and Decker could see a glow settling over the city to the east, where the downtown casinos and hotels were firing up millions of twinkling lights and neon signs to draw tourists into their glittering dens of excess. Towering above it all was The Strat Hotel, taller than every other building.

Special Agent Barnes pulled into the parking lot and stopped beside a row of white SUVs bearing the Coroner’s Office emblem. They made their way to the public entrance at the front of the building. The office was already closed for the day, but Barnes made a call on his cell phone, and soon a man wearing black scrubs unlocked the doors and let them inside before disappearing back into the building. Moments later a second man arrived, this time wearing a white lab coat.

“Jackson, it’s been a while,” the man said, referring to Barnes by his first name.

“The I-15 Strangler case,” Barnes replied. He nodded toward Decker. “This is my colleague, John Decker. He’s a specialist on loan from another agency.”

“Pleased to meet you, Agent Decker.” The man said. “I’m Doctor Sam Callow.”

“Pleased to meet you too,” Decker said. “And it’s not Agent Decker. Mister will do. Or better yet, just call me John.”

“My apologies,” Callow replied. “You’re here about the Sasha Martin case, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Decker said. “We’d love to get your opinion and also see the body.”

“Sure.” Callow motioned for them to follow him toward the door marked staff only. He produced a key card and swiped it through a reader, then opened the door and held it for them. As they made their way to the pathology lab, he spoke over his shoulder. “I have to say, this was not your run-of-the-mill autopsy.”

“What do you mean?” Decker asked.

“We get a lot of suspicious deaths come through. People who’ve met violent ends. Gunshots, stabbings, suicides. We’ve had the occasional animal attack too, but we rarely see these kinds of wounds inflicted on a body.”

“Really?”

“It was like an animal attack times ten. If I didn’t know better, I’d say an entire pack of animals set upon this poor woman. The damage to her abdomen was extreme. There were signs that the killer was attempting to eat her internal organs. There are bites taken out of her liver,” Callow led them to a door marked Pathology Room Two. He opened it and they entered. “She’s in here. I had the remains transferred from the cooler after the viewing request came through.”

“Thank you,” Barnes said. He glanced toward a metal dissection table where a body lay under a white cloth. “Is that her?”

“Yes.” Callow crossed to the table. “I have to warn you, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“We’ll be fine,” Decker said. He motioned for Callow to remove the sheet.

“We’ve just come from a crime scene containing two victims that we suspect were killed by the same creature that attacked Sasha,” Special Agent Barnes said. “Your colleague, Doctor Lyle, was there.”

“Oh, right. Out near Ghost Canyon?”

“Yes.”

“I was there when the call came in. Thankfully,