Chapter 2He found his brother, Chris, just before lunch. Flies, attracted by the four bodies already exhumed and waiting in the wagon, buzzed around his ears. Sweat rolled down his neck and aching back. He stood under the high noon sun, staring at the corpse with dust and water in his eyes.
His brother’s face—what was left of it—was beyond recognition. A bullet had blown away part of his head, and the rest of his body had mostly decomposed. But Paul knew it was his brother. He recognized the blue and brown shirt his mother had made for Chris almost two years before. He recognized the faded leather belt that bore his brother’s initials, CW. He recognized the familiar build, Chris’s short trunk and his long, gangly legs. The legs were so long that, before Reid had buried the body, he’d fold
