The detective stood at the edge of the field. There was nothing to see except rows and rows of dead corn. A fine layer of snow had settled on the broken stalks.
With the last altercation with his superiors at the station fresh in his mind, he returned to his car for a shovel.
A local farmer had noticed him. He had a bad feeling where he may find those missing children. That feeling encouraged him to check his revolver.
He suspected whatever happened next may grace the morning paper.
The corn wasn’t the only thing dead in this field.