"Reichs, Kathy - Temperance Brennan 04 - Fatal Voyage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichs Kathy)

mostly pine, the few hardwoods like wreaths marking the death of summer,
their foliage every shade of red, orange, and yellow.

Though it was hot in Charlotte, at this elevation the early October
weather was pleasant. But it would soon grow cool. I took a wind-breaker
from the backseat, stood still, and listened.

Birdsong. Wind. The scurrying of a small animal. Then, in the distance,
one man calling to another. A muffled response.

Tying the jacket around my waist, I locked the car and set off toward
the voices, my feet swishing through dead leaves and pine needles.

Ten yards into the woods I passed a seated figure leaning against a
mossy stone, knees flexed to his chest, laptop computer at his side. He
was missing both arms, and a small china pitcher protruded from his left
temple.

On the computer lay a face, teeth laced with orthodontic wiring, one
brow pierced by a delicate gold ring. The eyes were open, the pupils
dilated, giving the face an expression of alarm. I felt a tremor beneath
my tongue, and quickly moved on.

Within yards I saw a leg, the foot still bound in its hiking boot. The
limb had been torn off at the hip, and I wondered if it belonged to the
Rolls-Royce torso.

Beyond the leg, two men rested side by side, seat belts fastened, necks
mushrooming into red blossoms. One man sat with legs crossed, as if
reading a magazine.

I picked my way deeper into the forest, now and then hearing
disconnected shouts, carried to me at the wind's whim. Brushing back
branches and climbing over rocks and fallen logs, I continued on.

Luggage and pieces of metal lay among the trees. Most suitcases had
burst, spewing their contents in random patterns. Clothing, curling
irons, and electric shavers were jumbled with containers of hand lotion,
shampoo, aftershave, and perfume. One small carry-on had disgorged
hundreds of pilfered hotel toiletries. The smell of drugstore products
and airplane fuel mingled with the scent of pine and mountain air. And
from far off, a hint of smoke.

I was moving through a steep-walled gully whose thick canopy allowed
only mottled sunlight to reach the ground. It was cool in the shadows,
but sweat dampened my hairline and glued my clothing to my skin. I
caught my foot on a backpack and went hurtling forward, tearing my
sleeve on a jagged bough truncated by falling debris.

I lay a moment, hands trembling, breath coming in ragged gulps. Though