I just found a dead body. It’s a fifteen-year-old girl, who is—I mean
was—one of two of the last remaining residents of Cepheus, Kansas. Everyone
else who once lived here either left, or died already. Technically, anyone
in the world could have killed her. I can’t rule out any of them, except for
myself, but there is one person who is my prime suspect right now. Her
father is the only one I know of who was here at the time. They were
supposed to go fishing today, I know that much, but I’m not a coroner, so
there is no way for me to know how long ago she was killed. It could have
happened anytime within the last month, but I feel like the smell would be
worse if she had been lying here for longer than a few days. Plus, food is
something that I do know a little bit about, and I can tell you that this
ice cream that spilled all over the floor only went bad recently. It looks
like she dropped the bowl, slipped on it, and hit her head on the corner of
the counter. Or maybe that’s just what her dad wants us to believe. I mean,
where is he now, right? A month, a few days; either is plenty of time for
him to contact the authorities if it really was an accident. Running makes
anyone look suspicious, so he’s only making it harder on himself. I simply
cannot let the trail go cold, and I can’t rely on the sheriff to do his due
diligence. He’s going to rule it an accident, and not even look at the damn
facts. She’s dead, and the dad’s gone. They need to investigate, or even
call in the FBI. No, he can’t be trusted. I have to go on the hunt, or no
one else will. Sure, I’m just a rural area supply transporter, but I know
these woods like the back of my eyelids. If the killer is hiding somewhere
around here, I’ll find him. You can bet on that.
I get back in my wagon, and head to what’s left of Main Street, hoping to
find some evidence of where my suspect could have gone. There aren’t a whole
lot of locations around here, and of course I’m well aware that he could be
in Peru by now. If I killed my own teenage daughter, accident or no, I
wouldn’t be stupid enough to stick around unless I wanted to get caught,
consciously or no. I never pegged him for much of a bright boy, so I expect
he’ll turn up sooner or later. These abandoned buildings are a pretty decent
place to hide if you’re not worried about someone like me being on the hunt.
Not in the old general store, not in the one restaurant still standing, not
in the playground slide. It’s covered in mold, though. Someone should really
do somethin’ about that. Where could that guy be? I head farther out to
check the fishing hole, and the run-down cabin nearby. No one has been here
in weeks, by the looks of it. Maybe he’s camping out on the prairies, or in
that trailer that someone abandoned deep in the forest a couple of decades
ago. Man, pretty much everything around here is falling apart, isn’t it? I
still can’t find him, so I decide I need to get some perspective. One thing
I didn’t try that they always do on those crime shows is inspect the scene.
I can’t believe I was so dumb that I didn’t really even look for clues
around the body. Maybe I’m not a bright boy either. When I get back to the
house, police lights are flashing in my eyes. The sheriff has finally shown
up. Took him long enough. He has some colleagues with him from neighboring
counties. I get out, thinking it’s time I fill them in on what I know. I
don’t get to say much before they slam my face into the hood of my own
truck, and wrap handcuffs around my wrists. Apparently, they found the
father lain neatly in his casket in the cemetery. He probably died before
her. Now I’m the only suspect. I shouldn’t have run.
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