Whispers of the Dead Read Online Free

around us, plunging us into shadow as the
road wound through them. Part of the huge Appalachian Mountains
chain, the Smokies covered eight hundred square miles and spanned
the border between Tennessee and North Carolina. They'd been
declared a National Park, although looking out of the car window I
thought that nature was blithely unaware of such distinctions. This
was a wilderness that man had even now barely scratched. Coming
from a crowded island like the UK, it was impossible not to be
humbled by their sheer scale.
There was less traffic now. In a few weeks it would be much
busier, but this was still spring and there were hardly any other cars
to be seen. After a few more miles Tom turned off on to a gravelled
side road.
'Shouldn't be much further now.' He checked the satnav display
mounted on the dashboard, then peered up ahead. 'Ah, here we are.'
There was a sign saying Schroeder Cabins, Nos 5--13 by a narrow
track. Tom turned off on to it, the automatic transmission complaining
slightly as it compensated for the gradient. Spaced well out from
each other, I could make out the low-pitched roofs of cabins set back
amongst the trees.
Police cars and unmarked vehicles I took to belong to the TBI
lined both sides of the track ahead of us. As we approached, a
uniformed police officer strode to block our way, hand resting lightly
on the gun holstered on his belt.
Tom stopped and wound down the window, but the officer didn't
give him time to speak.
'Sir, you cain't come up here.Y'all have to back up and leave.'
The accent was pure deep south, his politeness like a weapon in itself, implacable and unyielding. Tom gave him an easy smile.
'That's all right. Can you tell Dan Gardner that Tom Lieberman's
here?'
The uniformed officer moved away a few paces and spoke into his
radio. Whatever he heard reassured him.
"Kay. Park up there with the rest of the vehicles.'
Tom did as he was told. The nervousness I'd been feeling had
solidified into a definite unease as we parked. I told myself that a few
butterflies were understandable; I was still rusty from my
convalescence, and I hadn't banked on working on an actual murder
investigation. But I knew that didn't really account for it, even so.
'You sure it's all right my being here?' I asked. 'I don't want to
tread on anyone's toes.'
Tom didn't seem concerned. 'Don't worry. Anyone asks, you're
with me.'
We climbed out of the car. After the city, the air smelled fresh and
clean, rich with the outdoor scents of wild flowers and loam. Late
afternoon sunlight dappled through the branches, picking out the
coiled green buds like fat emeralds. This high up, and in the shade of
the trees, it was quite cool, which made the appearance of the man
walking towards us even stranger. He was wearing a suit and tie, but
the jacket was slung over one arm, and his pale blue shirt was stained
dark with perspiration. His face was flushed and red as he shook
Tom's hand.
'Thanks for coming. Wasn't sure if you were still on vacation.'
'Not any more.' Tom and Mary had only returned from Florida
the week before I'd arrived. He'd told me he'd never been so bored
in his life. 'Dan, I'd like you to meet Dr David Hunter. He's visiting
the facility. I said it'd be OK for him to come along.'
It wasn't quite phrased as a question. The man turned to me. I'd
have put him just the far side of fifty, his weathered, careworn face
lined with deep creases. The greying hair was cut short, with a side
parting that might have been drawn with a ruler.
He extended his hand. His grip was tight enough to be a
challenge, the skin of his palm dry and calloused.
'Dan Gardner, Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Pleased t'meet
you.'
I guessed the title was the equivalent of Senior Investigating
Officer in the UK. He spoke with the distinctive twang of Tennessee,
but the easy-going manner was deceptive. His eyes were sharp and appraising. Reserving judgement.
'So, what have