The Mountain King by Rick Hautala Page A

Sawyer.” 
“Shit, we ain’t never gonna find Phil,” someone said. 
“ ‘Least not alive,” another man offered. 
    After a brief burst of confused comments, Dan Jenkins spoke out loud enough to be heard above everyone else. “Come on, Guy! Don’t you think these two things might be a little more closely related than you’re letting on?” He narrowed his gaze as he looked at the police chief. 
“What the hell are you getting at?” LaBrea asked, frowning. 
“Well . . .” Dan turned and scanned the crowd now that he had their attention. “I ain’t about to start tellin’ tales out of school, but I know for a fact—a lot of you guys who work at the mill know it, too—that Phil Sawyer was going to get promoted to shift supervisor, and Mark Newman thought he deserved the job. Am I right?” 
Several men grunted their agreement. 
“And—” Dan went on, shrugging and rubbing his hands together nervously. “Well, there’s been some talk ‘round town about how Mark’s old lady Polly’s been sleeping around, and that Dennis was kinda keeping the bed warm, if yah catch my drift.” 
Nervous laughter rippled through the room. 
“I think if you’re looking for a motive,” he went on, “the fact that Dennis was shagging Mark’s wife might appear motive enough for him to do what he done to Dennis.” 
    “Hold it right there, Dan,” LaBrea said, nailing Jenkins with an angry look. “Mark Newman’s not on trial here for anything. You got that? And I hope to hell I don’t need to remind you that here in America, a man’s innocent until he’s proven guilty. Now, the sun’s up, and we’ve got a job to do—” 
“But did you see him?” Dan shouted, trembling as he scanned the crowded room again, looking for sympathetic faces. “Did any of you guys see what Dennis looked like after he was through with him?” 
“That’s enough, Dan,” LaBrea said, purposely lowering his voice to keep tempers from flaring any more. 
    “Most of you were at Dennis’s funeral yesterday,” Dan continued. “Closed casket! A closed fucking casket! You know why? Do any of you know why—?” 
“I said that’s enough!”  
“Because he was ripped to shit, that’s why! His stomach had been torn open, and his guts pulled out. That’s what I heard. Come on, Frank . . . and Eddie— you guys’ve all heard the same things I’ve been hearing. Back me up on this. Whoever went to work on Dennis with that knife or axe or whatever really did a hell of a number on him.” 
“I’ve known Mark Newman a lot of years, and I’ll tell you one thing—he ain’t the kind of man who’d do something like that—to anyone, no matter what the reason.” 
    All heads turned and looked at Sam Barker, who was standing in the far corner of the room. A few other men nodded their agreement. 
    “He’s worked in my department a lot of years. Now, you can spread rumors all day about what his wife might or might not have been doing, and about him not getting this promotion he might’ve thought he deserved, but all of you men here—especially you guys who work at the mill—you know Mark, and you can’t tell me you think he could kill someone in cold blood!” 
“Well, someone did it!” Dan shouted, his face flushing red with anger. “Who else had a better reason?” 
“That’s not for any of us to decide,” LaBrea said as he slammed his fist onto his desk. “You’re way out of line here, Jenkins! I knew Dennis Cross, too. I can’t very well say he was a close friend of mine, but believe me—no one wants to get to the bottom of this more than I do.” 
    “Okay, then why don’t you bring one of those hot-shot state investigators in here to tell us what the fuck’s going on? Let’s hear what they’ve found out and what they’re thinking, huh? We’ve got a right to know. This happened in our town—to a friend of ours!” 
LaBrea shook his head. 
“And why don’t you tell us why Dennis’s funeral had