A Copper Grave

A Copper Grave

A Mark Hayes Story #3

by

Brent Towns 

Get your copy here! 

PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR MARK HAYES IS BACK—AND HOPETOWN WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

New town. New criminals. Same danger.

After Police Sergeant Nicole Berger’s transfer, Mark Hayes lands in Hopetown—a place where “hope” is in short supply. Within days, he’s neck-deep in trouble: illegal dogfights, an ICE epidemic, a missing woman, and the chilling echoes of a thirty-year-old murder.

When the old case stirs up new enemies, Mark quickly learns that in Hopetown, the past doesn’t stay buried—and neither might he.

Every suspect has something to hide. Every lead could be a trap. And if Mark doesn’t unravel the truth fast, the next body in the ground could be his own.

Preview:

  Thirty Years Ago…

Les Jones eased his horse to a halt and surveyed the table-flat land stretching out before him. It wasn’t just a cursory glance, but one of love. This was the driest, harshest, toughest piece of dirt he had ever seen, but he’d managed to eke a living out of it, which made it even more special. Apart from his family and rodeo riding, this wasteland was the biggest passion of his life.

It was, however, in desperate need of rain, two years passing since the last great downpour. But once it came, the transformation would be unbelievable. No one, not anyone, would take it away from him.

Les turned in the saddle as he heard the bleating of sheep off to his right. There was a line of them coming toward him. To the south, the crackle of thunder signaled the passage of a distant storm. The sky was dark, and he could see the heavy curtain of rain sweeping across the land, punctuated by jagged forks of lightning. If only it would come further north to fill his dams.

That’s what Les was doing—checking dams. Some were getting too low, like the feed in the paddocks, which meant he would have to move stock around. Maybe in another week or two, before he went to Queensland for a stint on the rodeo circuit. 

Another rumble of thunder, this one a lot closer than the others. Les’s horse shifted nervously beneath him. Reaching down, he patted its neck reassuringly, soothing the animal with his voice. “Easy, boy. It’s just the big fella shifting some furniture around.”

Les looked up and saw the ominous clouds roiling above him. He frowned. The storm couldn’t have moved that quickly. He looked back to the south and saw the storm still tracking on its original path. No, there was one forming over him.

“Looks like we’re going to get some rain after all, boy,” he said in a low voice. “Time to go.”

Using just the pressure of his knees, the bay started to walk forward. 

Suddenly, a jagged fork of lightning dropped from the gray clouds like the fist of God, striking the only tree for miles. The tree sparked and seemed to explode. The sound of the thunder was deafening, and this time the horse lurched wildly beneath him. It took several minutes and all of Les’s skills to bring him back under control. 

“Easy now,” he murmured.

The first drop of rain landed heavily on his shirt, leaving a circular outline of moisture. It was soon followed by another, and another, until the landscape was covered with the wet gray curtain of the sudden squall. 

Les urged his mount on. Being caught out in the open with lightning all around wasn’t a place he was eager to be. Another lightning bolt crashed earthward, followed by the deep boom of thunder. 

There was a lean-to he’d built for the sheep beside the next dam. It was scant cover, but shelter was shelter. He’d head there. 

For the next ten minutes, Les rode through the unabating storm. If anything, it had intensified. The bolt of lightning had now turned into a sheet, and the sky illuminated constantly with bright flashes.

The horse slopped through hoof-deep water as the hard-baked earth refused to let the water penetrate it. Then, ahead of him, Les saw something. The horse stopped. Les peered into the gloom and saw the movement again. It looked to be another rider. Out here? Who’d be this far afield on his property? 

Les removed his Akubra so that he wouldn’t have to look through the water cascading off its brim. He narrowed his eyes and caught sight of the rider again. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Then, replacing his hat, Les urged his horse forward once more, determined to find out who the rider was and what they were doing on his land.