The body, dressed in ash-smudged camouflage trousers, khaki shirt, and leather boots, lay mostly in Elk Creek, which was now a slow trickle of sludge. The face was turned into the scorched ferns along the bank, the visible portion a mass of blisters interrupted by a singed eyebrow. Blackened hair...
Fred Fischer? Coyote Charlie? She had to get a look at his face. After leaping down the ladder, she hugged the wall as she crept to the doorway. There. Only a few yards away. He would cross in front of her in a matter of seconds. Crap! Was he coming inside? Coming for her? She leapt out of the do...
