A Crying Shame (10 page)

Nothing human,” Joe said quietly and confidently. He had calmed himself.

A shiver touched the sheriff, and crawled eerily up his backbone. It was a slimy feeling, and it would not leave the man.

Damned sure wasn't a bear,” Mack opined.

The front porch was slick with blood, shining darkly in the morning sun ... and other parts of the human anatomy the men chose not to look at too closely. Not until their stomachs could adapt to the carnage.

Paul Breaux had been ripped open, his inner parts scattered helter-skelter.

Mike . . .” Joe touched the sheriff's arm.
Look at those teeth marks on ... that leg over there.” He pointed to one leg that had been ripped and torn from the torso.
It's . . . half-eaten.”

Jesus!” Mack said.
What kind of strength would it take to do that?”

Inhuman,” Mike replied tightly. He shut his eyes and shook his head.

Miss Breaux!” Mike called, his voice shattering the morning stillness.
Miss Breaux! Are you in the house?”

A slug splintered the center of the door; the men jumped for cover, slipping on the dewy grass and the slick gore. The slug whined harmlessly away.

Crouched behind the high porch, the men turned the quiet morning into a shooting gallery. All armed with .357 magnums, they literally blew the front door off its hinges. One slug disintegrated the brass doorknob; another shattered the top hinge; several blew out the center wooden panel.

Quiet after the ripping shots.
Oh, God!” a woman's voice moaned.
Somebody please help me. Please help me.”

Tossing caution to the wind, Joe jumped to his feet.
That's Mi—Ms. Breaux.”