Chapter Sixty-six
Mickey checked again and with a small gasp, turned away, pinching her eyes between thumb and forefinger. She had spotted what was left of a c****d knee poking out through shredded denim.
“Easy Mick,”Cat said. “I’ll go look.”
Mickey kept her eyes diverted but heard Cat yell: “Yeah, it’s him. He’s been dead awhile, too.”
Mickey tried to make sense of it. “What the hell was he doing way up here?”
Tyson shrugged. “Trying to get away, I reckon.”
Cat returned. “Nothin’ but skeletal remains,”she said. “The fuckin’ birds have pretty much picked him clean. But found these lying among the bones of his ribs.”
Mickey saw two fragments of misshapen metal in Cat’s palm; dark gray and looking like a couple of dried beans.
“.357 mag,”Cat rolled them like dice. “Pete Sykes’ gun.”
