“I agree. He definitely painted this spot.”
“The question is, what else did he do here?”
Max tugged on the leash, trying to get closer to the water. Penelope moved ahead, taking slow steps while Maggie sniffed the ground.
“If someone were going to dispose of a body, I don’t think they’d do it near the water,” she said. “Too much chance that erosion would uncover it.”
“Yeah, agreed.” I followed Pen, nudging Max a little so he’d stay with me. “Probably off the trail, too. Even if he came out here at night, he wouldn’t want hikers to find it later.”
The dogs kept sniffing as we walked off trail. I scanned the ground, looking for areas where Morris could have dug a hole and covered it up again. There were enough leaves and pine needles that concealing the burial spot wouldn’t have been difficult.
Suddenly, Max started digging. Pen and I stopped and looked at each other, wide-eyed.
Was he going to find something?
“Good boy, Max,” Penelope said.
Maggie stopped and watched her doggy brother, her head tilted to one side, as if she were curious. Max was a dog on a mission. He dug furiously, tossing dirt behind him until he had a sizable hole in the ground.
“What’s in there, Max?” I asked.
He stopped and shoved his nose into the dirt. I had a sudden vision of him emerging with a human tibia in his mouth. Iglanced at Pen. By the way her brow furrowed, I was pretty sure she was thinking the same thing.
Max jerked his head out of the dirt with something in his mouth, and his tail wagged fast, like he was quite pleased with himself.
“What did he find?” Pen asked.
It was a little smaller than a football, and so covered in dirt, I couldn’t make out any details.
“Max, sit,” I said, and he did.
I crouched in front of him and winced. Whatever he had, it was gross. Bits of something dangled off it, looking like rotten flesh hanging from a zombie’s body. The scent of decomposition was strong.
I’d channeled my brother Garrett enough to think of bringing gloves. I slipped them on and held out my hands.
“Drop it, Max.”
He didn’t move.
“Drop it. Be a good boy.”
Still nothing.
“Max, drop it,” I said.
Finally, he opened his mouth and let the…whatever it was…fall into my open hands.
Penelope clamped her hands over her mouth. Max’s tail beat against the ground, rustling through the leaves and pine needles, while Maggie idly sniffed around the spot where he’d dug.
The sickly sweet scent of rotting meat filled my nose. I poked at the thing and brushed some of the dirt off, trying to figure out what it was.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said, pinching it with two fingers so I could lift it. “It’s a rotisserie chicken. Or what’s left of one.”
Penelope crouched down to look closer. “Oh my gosh, you’re right.”
“It’s just what’s left of someone’s picnic.” I stood and tossed it deeper into the woods so Max wouldn’t get it.
“Should we keep looking?” Pen asked as she straightened.
