Silenced Girls by Roger Stelljes EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Roger Stelljes
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
“THERE IS NO SIGN OF A STRUGGLE…”
Manchester, Minnesota. July 5, 1999. 4:14 a.m.
“Dispatch, I’m 10-8 leaving the Berglund place up on Little Birch,”
Sheriff’s Deputy Ed Gregerson reported, noting his availability for service,
having addressed the noise complaint from the firepit around the front of the
cabin. He chuckled; the two mid-twenty-year-old couples still going strong,
the bonfire blazing, the empty beer cans plentiful on the ground, the country
rock music and their boisterous voices just a bit too loud for the cabins
tucked nearby on Little Birch Lake.
Gregerson turned himself around and made his way back along North
Little Birch Lake Road, stifling a late-night yawn as he approached and then
turned left onto Highway 4, called the H-4 by locals of Shepard County. The
highway was quiet with only one lonely set of headlights passing him in the
northbound lane in the two miles before he approached County Road 48.
He
turned right, planning to work his way southwest to Manchester for a short
break. He reached for his now lukewarm coffee and took a drink as he eased
around a gentle right bend. Up ahead on the right shoulder he viewed a white
car. The car lights were turned off. The hazard lights were not flashing. He
slowed and pulled behind the car, a mid-nineties white Grand Am. He
couldn’t place his finger on it, but the car looked familiar to him for some
reason.
“Dispatch, this is Gregerson. I’m 10-20 on County 48. Checking on a
disabled vehicle.”
Gregerson stepped out of his Bronco. With his left hand resting on his
gun he approached the car, scanning the interior with the beam of his
flashlight. The car’s doors were locked. As he peered inside, he didn’t see
any items to identify the car’s owner. He walked around the front of the car
to the passenger side and saw the problem.
The right front tire was flat as a
pancake, the mangled rubber mostly detached from and twisted around the
rim like a pretzel. Gregerson slowly walked along, continuing to peer inside
moving the beam of the flashlight around and then he stopped. Resting on the
backseat he saw a balled-up hooded sweatshirt. He could make out the logo
and some letters. It was a Manchester Girls Soccer sweatshirt.
“Huh. I better call this in,” he muttered. He was now pretty sure who the
car belonged to.
Gregerson climbed back into his Bronco and accessed the computer,
typing in the license plate for confirmation. He was right.
“Dispatch. We need to 10-21 the sheriff. I found his girls’ car
abandoned out here on County 48.”
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