Page 17 of Stone Cold Sinner

“Decomposition. At a minimum, with perfect conditions, ten days, give or take. Depth of burial, ground and soil conditions, chemicals… It all plays a part. So, ten-day minimum.”

“Up to?”

Coy looked at Cut. “Years. There isn’t an easy answer. Given there aren’t any other items or debris, they were either buried naked or been there long enough for clothing to decomp. Insects, worms, and such in the soil can make that happen faster… Wildlife.”

“The fact that you know that is equally impressive and frightening,” Cut admitted.

Coy knelt down and gave the remains a closer look. “Shallow grave, bone decomposition… Hard to say, but they’ve been here a bit.”

“You can tell that just by looking at it?” Nash asked.

Coy nodded and took to his feet. “You couldn’t have plowed but a couple of feet when you planted here, and I know I didn’t go much farther when I tore it all up. We went far enough for the skull to surface and didn’t have to dig much to find the rest under there. Too many variables to be certain, but I don’t think this is new. There would be evidence of chemical additives in the soil, and, to be honest, we probably wouldn’t be standing this close and breathing.”

Nash took several steps backward. “Oh shit. You mean to tell me there’s like lime or some crap in the air from digging that son of a bitch up?”

Cut took one large step back. “Is he right? Should we even be standing here?”

“You feeling okay?” Coy asked, point blank.

“I mean, I’m sweatin’, feel a little shaky, my heads spinnin’ a bit, and I’m a little hungry, and…” Nash cradled his face in his hands and panicked. “Oh no… And I don’t feel my face! We’ve been exposed to whatever that sucker died with in that there dirt and we’re next. Ah, shit.”

Coy reached over and flicked Nash’s forehead hard.

“Ouch, man. What the hell, Coy? Why’d you go and do that?”

“Because you can feel your face. You’re just anxious.” Coy shook his head. “Guessin’ you’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“Of course, I have, all the time. They’re all over this place. In fact, I just found a real doozy the other day in the back forty…” Nash’s words were dripping in sarcasm. “Of course, I haven’t seen a dead body before. Or, in this case… no body, just… bones.”

“It gets easier with time,” Coy said, walking around the space, still studying the scene.

“We can tell.” Cut snorted.

Coy rejoined them. “You grew up on a ranch. I’m surprised you’re so uncomfortable with death.”

Nash guffawed. “I find it more surprising that you’re not uncomfortable with it. If I start having trust issues with you, this is why.”

“I think you’re right, Coy,” Ransom said, assessing the scene. “Look around. They’ve been here quite a while.”

Nash tossed his hands in the air. “Oh great, another one. Tell us, Sherlock Holmes, what is your analysis based on?”

Both Cut and Nash turned to Ransom and waited for an explanation.

“Well, why’d you pick this spot to plant your stash?”

“Isolated. Nobody comes back here. We don’t use this land for livestock or crops of any kind,” Nash started. “It was easy to hide until CSI guy over here found it.”

“Exactly. You just described the perfect burial ground for someone you don’t want found,” Ransom reasoned. “Isolated. Nobody comes back here. The land isn’t used; therefore, it was never plowed or turned.”

“Jesus.” Cut ran his hands through his hair. “This was well-planned and thought out. Who does that?”

“A killer,” Coy chimed in, eyes still fixed and tracing their surroundings. “This could be anyone, and our suspect, just as elusive. If it were me, and I wanted to hide a body on the ranch, this would be a prime spot. Access from the main road, through the woods, undetected, and then hidden behind this here barn. Middle of the night, no one would know.”

“You think someone dumped a body here?” Nash asked.

Cut shook his head. “We would’ve known. We have trail cams all over the property –– anywhere just like you described where we don’t have a good visual.”

“How long have those trail cams been installed?” Coy questioned.

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