The evening was fully dark as Marcus stood in a clearing in the woods at the boundary of Lionel’s property, just before the state park began. There were tarps and headlights, and the crime scene techs were there. The body Lionel’s dog had dug up was just bones, but how long it had been there was anyone’s guess.
Harold had his jacket on, and Marcus was still wearing his old hoodie, his badge pinned to it, as he spoke with the old man again.
“Told you, Rufus has the hound dog in him,” Lionel said. “When he gets a scent on something, he just starts digging. I didn’t know what it was. Thought it was just garbage. I was calling him, and by the time I caught up with him, I found him digging up an old tarp. I went to grab him and pull him away when I spotted something. I pulled back what he’d a
