Bad Land by Jonathan Yanez Read Free Book Online

into her back pocket and pulled out a card.
    Marshall accepted it and gave her his own. “And if you or your grandpa do remember anything, here’s mine.”
    Samantha took Marshall’s card and bit her lip in a way that made Marshall wonder if she was still thinking about cars. “Is that the only reason I should call you?”
    Marshall was still regaining his footing after saving himself from the last foot in mouth situation. “Or I mean if you want to hear more about how George feels about female mechanics.”
    Samantha laughed. “Okay. You two drive safe, and there’s an open invitation to visit my garage.”
    “Thank you.”
    The two waved good-bye and Marshall unlocked the car and let George inside.
    Really smooth, dude. Blaming everything on your dog like he’s your wingman? Really? She must think you’re an idiot.
    Marshall stuffed Samantha’s business card in his pocket and pulled a U-turn as he headed back into town. He couldn’t help but notice Samantha’s slim figure walking back toward the porch as he felt the old man’s eyes on him.
    George had been sniffing the car like it was a new environment to him ever since they had entered. He bounded onto the back seat and Marshall could hear paper rustling. Before he had a chance to look back, George was sitting behind him with a newspaper in his mouth.
    Marshall furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t left any newspapers in the car. Pulling over, he took the newspaper from between George’s jaws. His fingers trembled and his heartbeat quickened as he realized what it was. The newspaper was the current morning edition of the Hermes . It was turned to page two, where Barbara Summers’ picture stood out against the thin paper. In red marker that looked like blood were scrawled the words, Leave It Alone.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 8
     
     
    Marshall threw the paper down like it was infected and turned all the way around in his seat, searching the entire interior of the car. Someone had broken in while he was talking to the canyon’s residents. Who knew what else they’d done?
    The interior of his vehicle was bare. Marshall turned off the engine and sat in his car trying to calm himself. He felt violated. After a few minutes he regained his composure and he let his hands handle the newspaper once again. George sat quietly sniffing the air, sensing something was wrong, but waiting for his roommate to take the lead.
    Marshall looked at George and just shook his head. “This is getting weirder and weirder. If you want out now, I won’t hold it against you. Really, I mean who knows what else is going to happen. This can get dangerous. I won’t think any less of you if you decide to leave.”
    George sat panting with his head cocked to the side. “Okay, good. I was hoping you would stay.” Marshall smiled more at himself talking to his dog than anything else. But his self-imposed distraction was working. He felt better already. Carefully he looked through the newspaper, starting on the front page and working his way through the entire edition. There was nothing else there. No other messages, nothing circled or highlighted, only the warning scribbled in red ink.
    Marshall was no expert on penmanship, but if he had to guess, the person either wrote it in a hurry or wasn’t a great writer to begin with. The words were sloppy and some letters were bigger than the others. Besides that, there was nothing else to work with. “Great, so I’m looking for a male/female between the ages of ten and ninety who has bad handwriting.”
    Marshall took a deep breath, tossed the newspaper in the back seat, started his car, and headed back to town. He needed to drop George off at his apartment and then go to work and do what he did best. He needed to dig deep into Wakan Canyon’s history and research what had happened there to make so many people afraid.
    It was noon by the time Marshall had dropped off George at the apartment and he hit a drive-thru restaurant