Monster by Frank Peretti Read Free Book Online Page B

apparently trying to make sense to Jimmy Clark, the conservation officer who asked him questions.
    “Oh, man, sorry,” the deputy said.
    Sheriff Mills, a tall man weathered by experience and sporting a graying mustache, went back to a conversation he’d been having with Cap and Sing on the slapped-together porch near the main door. He was dressed for wilderness work, in the standard-issue green jacket with SHERIFF in large yellow letters on the back, but instead of a policeman’s hat, he wore a cowboy hat with a county sheriff insignia on its front.
    “Sorry,” the sheriff said to Cap. “Now, you were saying?”
    Cap stood nervously, taking deep breaths, shifting his weight, grasping the porch post as if to steady himself. The college professor’s words raced and his voice seemed weak. “We found—it was on the rocks below the waterfall.”
    “Blood,” Mills refreshed him.
    “Yeah. We checked all around the creek area, both sides of the trail, up and down the slope . . .”
    “How wide a radius?”
    Cap shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe forty feet, maybe fifty . . .” He looked at Sing, passing her the question.
    She was sitting on a hand-hewn bench against the old log wall, her face troubled as she studied the LCD of Reed Shelton’s camera. She was reviewing the digital photographs Reed had taken of the splintered cabin and the shots of Beck sitting in their campsite, her cheeks plump with a mouthful of sandwich. Sing and Cap’s backpacks rested against the wall next to her, packed to bulging but never opened. Leaves and needles clung to her clothing and her braids. “I would say a hundred-foot radius. But it was difficult. The brush is thick in that area.”
    Mills looked over Sing’s shoulder at the small camera screen. “Did he get any shots of Thompson’s body?”
    Sing came to the end of the pictures in the camera’s memory. “No. Apparently Reed was in no picture-taking mood when he and Beck were running for their lives.”
    “And you never got back to the cabin to check it out?”
    Cap was obviously on edge, tiring of the questions. He wagged his head. “We only wanted to find Beck, that was all.”
    “So you didn’t see whether or not there was a body up there?”
    “No!” Cap lowered his voice. “Reed said Randy was dead, and that was good enough for us. Beck was the one we were concerned about.”
    Sing stroked her forehead. “We weren’t getting anywhere. Reed didn’t want to leave, but we had to get back here; we had to get some help.”
    Mills regarded the folks gathering in the parking lot, well trained, some specialized, all there to find Beck Shelton no matter what. “You made the right decision. Sing, you’ve been our forensics specialist for five years now. You’ve teamed up with some of these people before. You know they’re good at what they do.”
    Sing nodded and gave a wave to the dog handler, who was sharing a piece of breakfast toast with Caesar, the German shepherd. “I never thought I’d be part of the case we’re working on.”
    Sheriff Mills looked past Cap and Sing to where Reed was still being questioned by Jimmy Clark. “So how clear do you think Reed’s head is right now?”
    Cap stole a glance. “I don’t know. He’s in some sort of shock, like he’s having waking nightmares. If he tells Jimmy what he told us . . .”
    Sing shivered, putting the camera in its case. “Reed was right about the cabin. If we find Randy Thompson thrown up in a tree, we might have to believe the rest of his story.”
    “Being in the dark, in the woods, can make things seem a lot worse than they are,” the sheriff suggested.
    “Maybe finding Randy’s body was the thing that shocked him,” Cap offered, “and after that, well, then, Beck gets grabbed . . . I don’t know, I’d probably be seeing some pretty horrible things by then.”
    “Reed’s a deputy sheriff!” Sing’s voice was edgy. “Let’s not underestimate him!”
    Awkward silence followed.
    “Duly