Two giant birds roosted on the diner's sign. Several more circled overhead, cawing impatiently.

"I'm taking them over to Red's right now."

"You do that. I don't suppose I could trouble you for something cold to drink?"

"Help yourself."

Sheriff Kopp grabbed a soda, got into his car, and disappeared down the long, dusty road. Duke and Loretta climbed into the truck and headed in the opposite direction. Duke passed the ride silently cataloguing the scenery. There wasn't much to see. Just a flat expanse of desert broken by cacti, tumbleweeds, fields of brown grass, and the occasional building. Rockwood had grown without a master plan, and it showed.

There were mobile homes and adobe constructions, ramshackle cabins and three-story manors. Some had white picket fences and concrete driveways. Others were surrounded by razor wire, with cows and chickens milling about in the front yard. The only common element was a lot of empty land between each. The citizens of Rockwood valued their personal space.

Finally, they pulled up alongside a wooden building. A sign over the door read RED'S TAXIDERMY AND MORTUARY.

A pair of pit bulls raged at their chains, announcing the truck's arrival. A wrinkled, old black man emerged from the cabin.

"Got another load for you, Red."

He glanced at the pile of bodies. "Whoo doggie, there's a lot this time."

"Nine of 'em," she confirmed.

"I'll get the wheelbarrow. Don't mind the girls, son. They're all bark. Just as long as you stay out of their reach."

Hands in his pockets, Duke stood inches from their snapping jaws.

It took three trips with the squeaky wheelbarrow to transfer the moldering body parts from the truck to the crematorium in the back of the building. When it was done, Loretta counted out a handful of bills.