Fido whined eagerly, obviously sensing a tasty snack. He tied the dog’s makeshift leash to a tree and approached the gory remains cautiously. The guy’s face was intact enough for him to murmur, “That’s Zimmer.” It could not be good for their investigation that Jeff’s undercover cult infiltrator was lying in pieces on the ground. What in the hell was going on around here? What had poor Luke stumbled into the middle of? What were he and Sam in the middle of? “Uhh, Gray,” Sammie Jo replied, “you might want to take a closer look at the body with a light. I’ll cover my eyes for a second.” Her tone of voice warned him that he wasn’t going to like what he saw. He flashed the light down at Luke’s head, which was just about the only intact part of him, and reeled back, shocked. The guy’s bloody mouth was frozen in a silent scream of terror and agony. “His wounds don’t look like the tearing a snacking predator might cause.”
