I’m debating which threatening-looking door to knock on first when there’s a loud crash from the barn up the hill. Loud even from thirty yards away. A thrashing sound follows. I turn and wait, listen. It’s quiet for a stretch. But then another noise, louder this time, followed by more frantic rustling. Like someone inside is careening into things— high and disoriented maybe. Or injured. I don’t really think it’s one of the guys I’m looking for, but it’s also not impossible.
Fuck. Slowly, I start up the hill toward the barn.
It’s been quiet for a spell. But then again— bang, bang, scramble, bang.
I move my hand so that my palm is resting against my gun. No need to draw yet. The coldness of the metal against my fingers is enough. The last thing I need is Seldon pinning an improper discharge on me.
The barn looks even worse close up— bent, rusted nails, shattered glass. Like any second it’s going to crash the rest of the way down. Probably the fucking second I go inside. I stop in front of a huge crack providing something of a doorway.
“Kaaterskill Police. Come out of the building. Now!”
On cue the noises start up again. Near the door. I can feel them, too, through the rickety wall. The impact. Thud, thud. Bang. Bang. Scramble. I pull out my gun, step closer to the opening, flashlight up. I don’t see any movement, but there is so much debris, whoever is in there could be hiding anywhere. I spot something at the edge of the makeshift entrance. A red-brown smear that could be dried blood.
“Last chance!” I shout over the noise. “You don’t come out, you might get shot!”
The thumping gets louder. I take a deep breath, preparing to move into darkness. Don’t shoot too early. Don’t shoot too late. As soon as I turn, something smacks me hard, right in the face. The impact sends me reeling.
“What the fuck!”
Blinded, I try to get my footing. My gun is still in my hand. But I can’t see a goddamn thing. I blink a few times. My eyes are still burning and watering, but at least I can see again.
Laughter then. From some distance behind me. With my eyes still tearing, I make out the outline of a woman, sitting on a rock.
“Fucking turkey vulture,” she says, then laughs some more as my vision finally clears. She points to the sky. When I look up, I can see the outline of a massive bird, already soaring up near the tops of the trees. “They’ve been getting stuck in the barn ever since that deer died in there. Dumb things get in, and they can’t get out.”
My nose is throbbing. I hope it’s not broken. I tuck my gun away at my back.
“Man, that thing really nailed you,” the woman says, laughter still in her voice.
When I squint at her now, she finally comes into view. Painfully thin, she looks to be in her mid-forties, with long, dull brown hair and overly tanned, heavily lined skin, too much of it exposed in a thin tank top and ripped jeans.
“There’s blood on that doorframe,” I say, motioning to the barn, glad for the excuse to look away from her bony arms. “Any idea where it came from?”
She peers up at me like I’m the one who’s high. “Um, I don’t know, the fucking deer.” She shakes her head. “Some hunter shot it, and it wandered in there. Whole place smelled like death for weeks. Still does sometimes. Fucking gross.”
“Have you seen either of these guys?” I ask, coming closer to show her the pictures of Keith and Derrick on my phone.
She studies the screen, then looks up at me. “Seen them where?”
“Here,” I say, pointing at the ground, straining to keep my patience. “Buying drugs maybe.” Because I know that’s what’s going on here, and I could arrest all of you if I wanted to— that’s the implied threat. God knows if she even notices. “But I don’t care about the drugs. I’m just trying to find these men.”
She looks back at the screen. “Never seen them. You should ask Crystal, though. They look like her type.”
“Crystal?” I ask, playing dumb.
She waves behind her toward the outbuilding. “She likes that kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing?” I ask. “Men?”
“Nah, weekenders with cash,” the woman says. “Crystal fucks them for money. I mean, not like an actual prostitute. Crystal’s not like that. She just picks them up, goes home and has sex with them, then lifts a few twenties on her way out.” She peers up at me and smirks. “I guess that is kind of like a prostitute. But Crystal’s a nice girl. Smart, sweet too.”