![]() ![]() “His junk positions strangers right where he can see them.” Eddie nodded, surprise crossing his face. Now look up.” She pointed at a boarded-up window on the second story with a narrow opening cut into its center. The owner deliberately piled all his crap to guide visitors to that open area in front of the house, stopping them from wandering around to the sides and back. ![]() “What direction do those items make you want to go?” “Not a mess.” She gestured at the thorny hedge and a huge rusted pile of scrap metal. “What a mess,” said Special Agent Eddie Peterson, who’d been temporarily assigned with her. What would appear to be a series of overgrown hedges and casual piles of junk to anyone else, she immediately identified as a carefully planned funneling system. She tucked the ends of her long, dark curls inside her coat, noting the large amount of debris in the home’s yard. ![]() ![]() Rain plunked on Mercy’s hood, and her breath hung in the air. She stepped out of the car and walked past the two Deschutes County Sheriff SUVs to study the property around the lonely home in the wooded east-side foothills of the Cascade Mountains. Mercy Kilpatrick wondered whom she’d ticked off at the Portland FBI office. ![]()
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