Cape GirardeauS
hake caught a couple of hours of much-needed sleep in his truck at a roadside rest stop north of the city. A bright sun glaring through the windshield woke him, and he checked his watch. Nearly 0930, and he needed to get moving. He really didn’t have a decisive plan of action. What he knew was that the cops were going to be too slow and too cautious to get anything done in the very near future. And if something wasn’t done in that very near future, more innocent men would die, carved up for their innards. Something that lurid, evil and inhumane actually taking place right here in rural Missouri? Closest comparison Shake could make—and it wasn’t a very good one—would be the old days of illegal abortions, something he always thought of as taking place in the dark, dingy and
