game had been a blowout. Unfortunately, it was the
Canes that got stomped.
Aunt Zell had sent the rest of the pie home for them
and Cal had taken his into the living room to watch
WRAL’ s recap of the game when Dwight’s phone rang.
He listened intently, then said, “I’m on my way.”
I quit pouring his milk. “What’s happened?”
Dwight reached for his jacket with a grim face. “They
just found another damn hand.”
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C H A P T E R
12
Dwight Bryant
Friday Night, March 3
% Ward Dairy Road again, but this time it was not a
dog or a human who found a body part.
It was a buzzard.
“Damnedest thing,” said the man who had called
them. “My wife and I were running late this morning
and as we headed out to the car, there were some buz-
zards over there in those weeds at the edge of the field.
One of them flew up with something when I started
the engine and then I heard a clunk on the top of the
car. Sounded almost like a rock, only not as heavy,
you know? My wife saw it bounce way under the holly
bushes over there but we didn’t have time to stop and
see what it was. After work, we went out to supper and
a movie, but as soon as we got home, my wife wanted
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HARD ROW
me to take the shovel and find whatever it was before
we let the dogs out and they got into something nasty.
They’re bad for rolling in roadkill.”
He had left his find on the shovel by the holly bushes
and their flashlights showed a large and presumably
male left hand, much the worse for wear. It seemed
to be frozen solid, yet flesh had been pecked from the
bones and several finger joints were missing. If the third
finger had ever worn a wedding band, there was no sign
of one now. Dwight was surprised the buzzard hadn’t
come back for it. Unless there was something else out
there beyond their flashlights?
They would have to wait for the ME’s determination,
but it looked to him like the mate to the first hand they
