The Devil's Water: Scenic City Murder Series #1 by Amanda Swafford Page A

key in the ignition. They rode in silence for almost 20 minutes until Tasha felt like she needed to yawn. A large inhale and an equally large exhale made her feel relieved. “Jesus, you need a breath mint.” Said Mclutcheon. “Why?”
    “Because you smell like a fuckin’ distillery. That’s why. Take one of these.” Clutch offered her a piece of Big Red gum.
    “Thanks.”
    Clutch was sawing the wheel up I75. “What are you doing?” Tasha asked.
    “Moving in and out of traffic. If you qualify for a DUI, I don’t wanna hear your shit.”
    “Fine.”
    “What do you get from alcohol anyway?” Clutch asked.
    “I dunno. It makes my mouth and nose numb. It releases the worries of the day and makes me wanna sing Bob Marley tunes.”
    “Bob Marley? I wanna sing Bob Marley tunes when I get stoned.” Clutch said as he grinned. “I don’t get stoned.” Tasha countered. “The only two times I’ve been stoned in my life I got paranoid. They say that it was because the dope wasn’t good shit. If that’s the case, I don’t wanna spend my life lookin’ for good shit.”
    “You ever thought that maybe you’re just not happy?” he asked.
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “Just consider that it’s possible that you’re not happy so you drink like a fish. Thing is, alcohol ain’t gonna make you happy. That shit just makes it worse. It’s like a vicious cycle. Once you’re on the merry go round you just keep on going and….”
    “OK. I don’t want or need this right now. Let’s concentrate on the case.” She said as she smacked her gum.
    “Alright, change of subject. Did you know this guy lived less than 15 minutes from me? I just kept on thinking about that when I heard the house was in Apison. That’s not very far from East Brainerd and there I was beating the bushes trying to round this SOB up.”
    “So he’s lived with his grandmother all these years until she died? How old is this guy?”
    “He’s a little over forty.”
    “Well, he didn’t start this yesterday. He’s been at it to some degree for a long time.”
    “Yep. That’s what I figure.” Clutch said as he passed the Apison road sign.”
    “Damn. I haven’t been out here in forever. I used to have a friend who lived here. She had horses and we would ride off into the woods together. Her folks had a pretty big farm.” Tasha said as she gazed out at a cow pasture.
    Pretty soon Clutch slowed down and steered the Volvo onto a gravel drive. “We’re here.” He said.
    Tasha glanced at the bank which was very steep and high. “Jesus. Did she jump from that?”
    “Yep. She must’ve figured her odds were better, as bad as it seems, than staying in that hell hole with him.”
    The gravel driveway twisted back and forth for a quarter of a mile until it ended beside a brick ranch style house that looked to have been built in the 50’s. There were several cars parked in the drive, among them Jeff Wilder’s SUV.
    They exited the car and walked up to the front porch. Wilder met them at the front door. “You guys ain’t gonna believe what you see in here.” Wilder said motioning behind him. “This guy is a total freak.”
    Clutch and Tasha stepped past Wilder and entered the home. There in the front entrance hall sat a wooden box, head high, which looked somewhat like a casket. Tasha ran her fingers down the side of it. “What is it they call this?” she asked.
    “An iron maiden. It was used as a torture device years ago.” Clutch answered.
    “What the hell would they do with it?” Wilder asked.
    “They would put you in the thing, lock it and then make you stay in it until they decided you could come out. Sometimes they would put it out in the hot sun. Make you sweat a bit. It’s just an ancient torture technique.”
    Jeff moved over to a shelf on the other side of the room. There, he picked up a small metal instrument and showed it to Clutch. “What’s this?” he asked.
    “Those are thumb screws. They’re placed over