While the Savage Sleeps by Andrew E. Kaufman Read Free Book Online Page B

prove his worth.
    “ We know how all this started … or why?” Cameron asked as they reached the front of the house, stopping at the top of the steps.
    Chip shook his head with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. He was out of breath.
    Cameron studied his eager expression, then poked his head through the doorway, peering down the foyer. He looked over the doorframe, following the weather-stripping from one end to the other, searching for signs of a breakin, then leaned in closer, inspecting the locking mechanisms, careful not to touch them with his hands. “How ‘bout a suspect?”
    “ Got one,” said Chip, sticking a pen in his mouth and frantically flipping through the pages on his clipboard. “It’s the son, Ben.”
    Cameron stopped what he was doing and felt the blood drain from his face. He looked up at Chip. “ Ben ? You’re telling me Ben Foley is the cause of all this?”
    “ Hell, yeah … I mean … well, sure looks that way,” Chip replied. He frowned. “You know the kid?”
    “ Ben, yeah, I knew him,” Cameron said, sighing, nodding. “Coached his Little League team last summer.”
    “ Wow ,” the junior deputy said, shaking his head.
    Cameron stared at Chip again, then gazed up at the second floor as if it were harboring some kind of secret. Memories of the previous summer flashed through his mind: a balmy evening in a dusty parking lot at the Dairy Queen. Kids in soiled uniforms perched on tailgates, feet dangling as they celebrated victory. Laughing. Hurrying to finish ice cream cones that were quickly melting in their small hands. Ben was there, too.
    Chip had been talking, but Cameron barely heard a word of it. He was pretty sure he hadn’t missed much, catching only the tail end of a sentence. “You okay, boss?”
    “ Is he in custody? Ben?” Cameron finally said after returning to the present. He surveyed the area, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna need to speak to him.”
    “ He’s dead, boss …”
    Cameron flinched.
    “ Killed himself. He’s still in there. Hey, you gonna be okay?” Chip asked, cocking his head and trying to make eye contact with his boss.
    Cameron nodded but didn’t look back at Chip. Instead, he stared into the front entryway, wondering how the boy he’d taught to catch a fly ball could turn cold-blooded murderer.
    Ben Foley a killer? Not even close.

Chapter Thirteen
    Old Route 15
    Faith, New Mexico

    Cameron passed through the front door, careful not to touch or disturb anything while trying to absorb his surroundings.
    He stopped at the bottom of the staircase and took a deep, steady breath.
    Climbing the steps, he looked down and scrutinized every inch he traveled, knowing even the smallest bit of evidence could turn out to be a big break. But when he reached the top, he got far more than he’d expected: stamped across the floor were small, bloody footprints that went past him, then vanished down the dimly lit hall. A child’s footprints , he thought, knowing they probably belonged to Ben. A sudden wave of nausea began to arc through him while thinking about the eleven-year-old boy, walking through the house, tracking his slain family’s blood on his feet.
    Entering the parents’ room was like stepping out of one nightmare and into another. The scene was a bloody battlefield—bodies lying tossed about like ragdolls, walls perforated with bullet holes, the mattress a giant sponge for all the blood.
    No matter how hard he tried, Cameron still had trouble envisioning Ben Foley—the unassuming kid with a big heart and even bigger smile—as the one responsible for the massacre before him.
    “ Looks like the dad took the first shot,” said Deputy Jim Avello from behind, surprising Cameron. “Probably never even knew what was coming. His head never left the pillow.”
    Cameron turned around, studied the deputy’s face for a moment, then gazed back toward the victims. “I suppose that’s for the best.”
    “ Doesn’t