Spring 1870 – Seven Bullets for Returning

 

 

Chavez looked at the open crypt for a long minute then covered his eyes with his hands. “That bastard,” he said. His voice was dull and resigned. “He was bad enough when he was alive. We could at least get peace when he slept.” 

I almost laughed at the absurdity of that statement. Instead I said, “We do not believe that it is Fuentes doing the killings. It is clearly his body but it is probably not his spirit that animates it.”