Vengeance Runs Cold--Excerpt
“Stay back, lady. You don’t want to see that.”
“Just tell me,” said Paige Griffin. She was near tears. “Is it my uncle?”
“Lady,” said the plumber. He himself was standing back. “That ain’t nobody’s uncle. Not unless he wore skirts.”
Relief washed over Paige. It seemed so wrong, especially since someone was dead, but at least it wasn’t Ted.
“I’m not a child,” she said, holding her breath and edging closer to the corpse. She saw long blonde hair surrounding a grotesquely desiccated face. The body in the disintegrating blanket wore a long, black skirt with a black turtleneck. There was rope binding her wrists and three of the fingers on her left hand were missing.
“I think you’d better call someone,” said the plumber. Paige picked up the phone. In the back of her mind she knew the man had meant the police, but the first number she dialed was that of Wally Morris.