CHAPTER NINE
Sheriff Doug Harrison pulled up on the side of the road and let the vehicle idle. Finchley lay behind him, and before him was the mine. But, to his right was the track to the old Mason factory.
He hadn’t been back there since that night two years ago, and he hoped to God he’d never have a reason to go back there. But, he still remembered the sight of the man strung up like a pig with half his head missing.
Harrison shivered at the thought, put the shift into drive, and stepped on the gas. The tires spat gravel, and the truck sped off. He didn’t want to spend any more time near that place, that hell. The mine was bad enough. There used to be an old guy who lived in town— Tom, anold Sioux Indian who had lived in the town before it was a town. People figured he was over a hund
