Page 14
Story: Deep as the Dead
A tent was pitched along the river. Smack in the center of the sagging crime-scene tape that flapped gently in the slight morning breeze. It was enough to undo the slight improvement coffee had made to his disposition. Alexa forgotten for the moment, Ethan looked over his shoulder, caught Nyle’s eye and jabbed an index finger to the right, while he veered left. They’d come at the tent’s occupant from oppositedirections.
His mind was racing as he descended the steep river bank with as much stealth as possible. There was almost zero chance that the killer had returned to the scene. There was an excellent possibility, however, that whoever had pitched that tent had done so with the express knowledge that he or she was compromising an active crime scene. And he wasn’t in a particularly forgivingmood.
He was three-quarters of the way down the slope when the tent’s entrance opened. A head poked out, followed by a thin lanky figure, all legs and elbows. A kid. Or, given his height, a teen. He stretched, then looked out over the river for a moment before turning back toward the tent. He caught sight of Ethan approaching and froze. Then he bolted to the right, tearing off along the riverbank with surprising speed. Ethan and Nyle gavechase.
If the kid wasn’t on his school’s track and field team, he was depriving them of real talent. He sailed over a fallen log with the ease of a hurdler and then headed for a thicket of overgrown bushes surrounding a dense copse oftrees.
Ethan ran for exercise, focusing more on stamina than speed. The knee injury that had ended his hockey career had healed, but he’d never regain complete strength in it. Neither he nor Nyle were going to be able to outrun the kid, although the distance between them wasn’t widening. Glancing at the other man, he pointed toward the thicket. The other Mountie grimaced, but plunged in after the kid. Ethan stopped, bending over to pick up three fist-sized rocks before speeding after the othertwo.
He ducked a thorny branch that could have raked at his face, but felt something catch on his suit jacket. Heard the rip when he tore away. When he came through the bushes, he could see the other officer, still stalwartly running after the kid, butlagging.
“Nyle!” He waited for the other officer to look back at him. “Move away.” With alacrity, the man veered right and Ethan stopped. Hefted one of the rocks in his hand. Then cocked back and threw it at the fleeing kid. It hit him squarely in the back of one knee, which crumpled beneath him, taking him to the ground. Nyle raced over as the teen struggled to his feet and continued running, but he was limping now and the other Mountie easily caught up with him. He grabbed the kid’s shirt, yanking him to a stop and was restraining him when Ethan jogged up tothem.
Nyle’s teeth flashed. “Impressive. Thought you were just a hockey plug. Didn’t know you played baseball,too.”
“My fastball was clocked at eighty-one miles per hour senior year. But I just lobbed that one to slow himdown.”
“That’s police brutality,” the boy said sullenly. His face was red from exertion and he had a bad case of acne, his hair shaved close on one side, with a hank of long brown hair hanging from the other. He gave his head a toss to get the hair out of his eyes. “It was a punkmove.”
“You think?” Ethan asked conversationally as they made their way back toward the tent, walking around the thicket this time. “Me, I tend to think of a punk as someone who runs away. Guess it’s all a matter of perspective. What do you think,Nyle?”
The agent had one hand on the kid’s bound arms and another on his shoulder as he guided him around the log the boy had sailed over earlier. “You know what a real punk move is? Deliberately setting up camp in an active crimescene.”
The kid lifted a shoulder. “How were we supposed to know it was stillactive?”
“The police tape should have been a tip-off,” Nyle was saying, but Ethan had seized on one word.We. Dammit. The kid wasn’talone.
He started running back toward the tent, although he had little hope that the boy’s companion was still in the vicinity. There hadn’t been any vehicles around as they’d approached the slope, and he tried to recall whether there’d been a boat of some sort. Ethan couldn’t remember. Like a dog sighting a rabbit, once he’d seen the kid take off, his focus had only been chasing himdown.
He burst out of the trees, scanning the shoreline. Then felt his bloodfreeze.
“I’m telling you, bitch. Let go or I’ll knock you outcold.”
There was a canoe in the water, ten feet or so from the bank. Another boy was standing in it, an oar cocked at a threatening angle. And Alexa… Jesus. She was waist-deep in the water, both hands grasping the stern of the canoe, walking backward as she pulled it and its occupant towardshore.
“I don’t think that would bewise.”
“Oh, really?” the kid sneered. “I swear to God, you take another step andI’ll…”
Ethan opened his mouth to disrupt the scene. But before he could say a word, Alexa stopped. Then, with a quick twist of her hands, she flipped the canoe over. The kid dropped the oar, his arms wheeling comically as he hit the water. When he came up for air, sputtering and swearing, Alexa was behind him, wrenching one arm behind his shoulder blade and propelling him towardshore.
Ethan grinned, delighted. As a girl, she’d been intriguing. Delightful. Full of surprises. Some things hadn’tchanged.
The teen started to struggle. “Consider that a lesson,” he called, strolling toward the two as the canoe floated down the river. “Never threaten a woman.” Her shoes were on the shore. She must have toed them off before wading into thewater.
He waited, fists propped on his hips until Nyle and Alexa had both kids back at the tent. Alexa and the boy she’d dumped in the water were soaked, and the kid was complaining bitterly. “That’s a nine-hundred-dollar canoe. You gotta let me get it. My step-dad’s gonna killme.”
“I’m betting he’ll be unhappier when we show up at your place and tell him where we found you two camped today.” The boys exchanged a glance. Relying on memories of his own teenage years, Ethan said “He didn’t know you were camping at all, did he? What’d you do, tell your parents you were staying at the other’s house and then come hereinstead?”
Canoe-boy was a half head shorter than his friend, with a thick crop of wet dark hair and what looked like a perpetual sneer on his face. “We didn’t even see the tape. It was dark when we got here and pitched the tent. You can’t proveotherwise.”
Nyle snorted. “Try again, kid. You had to pull down one side of the perimeter tape to even get inside thearea.”
Smugly, he shook his head. “No, it’s hanging pretty low from the rain. Easy to overlookit.”
“Nyle, why don’t you get some pictures?” Ethan gestured toward the tent and tried not to notice the way Alexa’s wet black slacks clung to her thighs. “I’m sure their proud parents would be interested to know what their kids were up to last night.” The other man stepped away from the kid they’d chased and dug his cell out of hispocket.
“Uh…” The tall kid’s head bobbed as he looked at his friend and then at Ethan. “Listen, I know it was a dumbass move. We just did it on adare.”
His mind was racing as he descended the steep river bank with as much stealth as possible. There was almost zero chance that the killer had returned to the scene. There was an excellent possibility, however, that whoever had pitched that tent had done so with the express knowledge that he or she was compromising an active crime scene. And he wasn’t in a particularly forgivingmood.
He was three-quarters of the way down the slope when the tent’s entrance opened. A head poked out, followed by a thin lanky figure, all legs and elbows. A kid. Or, given his height, a teen. He stretched, then looked out over the river for a moment before turning back toward the tent. He caught sight of Ethan approaching and froze. Then he bolted to the right, tearing off along the riverbank with surprising speed. Ethan and Nyle gavechase.
If the kid wasn’t on his school’s track and field team, he was depriving them of real talent. He sailed over a fallen log with the ease of a hurdler and then headed for a thicket of overgrown bushes surrounding a dense copse oftrees.
Ethan ran for exercise, focusing more on stamina than speed. The knee injury that had ended his hockey career had healed, but he’d never regain complete strength in it. Neither he nor Nyle were going to be able to outrun the kid, although the distance between them wasn’t widening. Glancing at the other man, he pointed toward the thicket. The other Mountie grimaced, but plunged in after the kid. Ethan stopped, bending over to pick up three fist-sized rocks before speeding after the othertwo.
He ducked a thorny branch that could have raked at his face, but felt something catch on his suit jacket. Heard the rip when he tore away. When he came through the bushes, he could see the other officer, still stalwartly running after the kid, butlagging.
“Nyle!” He waited for the other officer to look back at him. “Move away.” With alacrity, the man veered right and Ethan stopped. Hefted one of the rocks in his hand. Then cocked back and threw it at the fleeing kid. It hit him squarely in the back of one knee, which crumpled beneath him, taking him to the ground. Nyle raced over as the teen struggled to his feet and continued running, but he was limping now and the other Mountie easily caught up with him. He grabbed the kid’s shirt, yanking him to a stop and was restraining him when Ethan jogged up tothem.
Nyle’s teeth flashed. “Impressive. Thought you were just a hockey plug. Didn’t know you played baseball,too.”
“My fastball was clocked at eighty-one miles per hour senior year. But I just lobbed that one to slow himdown.”
“That’s police brutality,” the boy said sullenly. His face was red from exertion and he had a bad case of acne, his hair shaved close on one side, with a hank of long brown hair hanging from the other. He gave his head a toss to get the hair out of his eyes. “It was a punkmove.”
“You think?” Ethan asked conversationally as they made their way back toward the tent, walking around the thicket this time. “Me, I tend to think of a punk as someone who runs away. Guess it’s all a matter of perspective. What do you think,Nyle?”
The agent had one hand on the kid’s bound arms and another on his shoulder as he guided him around the log the boy had sailed over earlier. “You know what a real punk move is? Deliberately setting up camp in an active crimescene.”
The kid lifted a shoulder. “How were we supposed to know it was stillactive?”
“The police tape should have been a tip-off,” Nyle was saying, but Ethan had seized on one word.We. Dammit. The kid wasn’talone.
He started running back toward the tent, although he had little hope that the boy’s companion was still in the vicinity. There hadn’t been any vehicles around as they’d approached the slope, and he tried to recall whether there’d been a boat of some sort. Ethan couldn’t remember. Like a dog sighting a rabbit, once he’d seen the kid take off, his focus had only been chasing himdown.
He burst out of the trees, scanning the shoreline. Then felt his bloodfreeze.
“I’m telling you, bitch. Let go or I’ll knock you outcold.”
There was a canoe in the water, ten feet or so from the bank. Another boy was standing in it, an oar cocked at a threatening angle. And Alexa… Jesus. She was waist-deep in the water, both hands grasping the stern of the canoe, walking backward as she pulled it and its occupant towardshore.
“I don’t think that would bewise.”
“Oh, really?” the kid sneered. “I swear to God, you take another step andI’ll…”
Ethan opened his mouth to disrupt the scene. But before he could say a word, Alexa stopped. Then, with a quick twist of her hands, she flipped the canoe over. The kid dropped the oar, his arms wheeling comically as he hit the water. When he came up for air, sputtering and swearing, Alexa was behind him, wrenching one arm behind his shoulder blade and propelling him towardshore.
Ethan grinned, delighted. As a girl, she’d been intriguing. Delightful. Full of surprises. Some things hadn’tchanged.
The teen started to struggle. “Consider that a lesson,” he called, strolling toward the two as the canoe floated down the river. “Never threaten a woman.” Her shoes were on the shore. She must have toed them off before wading into thewater.
He waited, fists propped on his hips until Nyle and Alexa had both kids back at the tent. Alexa and the boy she’d dumped in the water were soaked, and the kid was complaining bitterly. “That’s a nine-hundred-dollar canoe. You gotta let me get it. My step-dad’s gonna killme.”
“I’m betting he’ll be unhappier when we show up at your place and tell him where we found you two camped today.” The boys exchanged a glance. Relying on memories of his own teenage years, Ethan said “He didn’t know you were camping at all, did he? What’d you do, tell your parents you were staying at the other’s house and then come hereinstead?”
Canoe-boy was a half head shorter than his friend, with a thick crop of wet dark hair and what looked like a perpetual sneer on his face. “We didn’t even see the tape. It was dark when we got here and pitched the tent. You can’t proveotherwise.”
Nyle snorted. “Try again, kid. You had to pull down one side of the perimeter tape to even get inside thearea.”
Smugly, he shook his head. “No, it’s hanging pretty low from the rain. Easy to overlookit.”
“Nyle, why don’t you get some pictures?” Ethan gestured toward the tent and tried not to notice the way Alexa’s wet black slacks clung to her thighs. “I’m sure their proud parents would be interested to know what their kids were up to last night.” The other man stepped away from the kid they’d chased and dug his cell out of hispocket.
“Uh…” The tall kid’s head bobbed as he looked at his friend and then at Ethan. “Listen, I know it was a dumbass move. We just did it on adare.”
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