Page 123 of This is Why We Lied

“Did you see him twitch or make a gesture under his own volition?”

“No. He was floating. His arms and legs were straight out. There was no resistance.”

“He must have been unconscious or already dead. I could be wrong, but my guess is that his lungs will show that he died by drowning.” Sara looked into the water. She saw a pair of familiar-looking glasses stuck in the creek bed. “These are identical to the ones Chuck was wearing.”

Will avoided the footprints as he leaned over the water with his phone to record the placement of the glasses.

Sara turned toward the body. Chuck was on his back, face up. She had barely looked at him the night before. Now, she took in his features. He was plain, though not unattractive, with black wavy hair he wore to his shoulders, olive skin, and dark brown eyes.

She asked Will, “When you were talking to Chuck, did you notice if his pupils were dilated?”

Will shook his head. “There’s not a lot of sunlight down here with the trees. I was more focused on making sure he didn’t grab that gaff and come after me.”

“Can’t you tell?” Faith was keeping her distance up the trail, but she was clearly listening. “Wouldn’t his pupils still be dilated?”

“The iris is a muscle,” Sara told her. “Muscles relax in death.”

Faith looked queasy. “There’s some gloves in my purse.”

Sara located the gloves and put them on while Will did a full-body capture from the top of Chuck’s head to the bottom of his hiking boots. The flash was on. Under the bright light, she could see the blue tint wasn’t confined to Chuck’s lips and fingernails. His face had a blue cast to it, particularly in the periorbital areas.

She told Will, “Make sure you focus in on his upper and lower eyelids and the eyebrows.”

Sara waited until Will was done before she knelt beside the body. Chuck was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. She saw no scratch marks or self-defense wounds on his arms or neck. She unbuttoned his shirt. His chest and belly were hairy, but absent even a stray mark. She took a closer look at his fingernails. She studied his face. She tried to remember what Chuck had looked like the night before. For obvious reasons, Sara’s attention had been firmly on Will.

She asked him, “Did you notice anything strange about how Chuck looked last night?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t really paying attention at cocktails until he grabbed Mercy’s arm and she yelled at him. Then we went inside for dinner and the lights were low. I honestly don’t remember looking at him again.”

“Neither do I.” Sara hadn’t had much time for Chuck. “We need to talk to everyone who was at dinner. I want to know if anybody noticed this blue tint to Chuck’s skin last night. Or even before that.”

“You think Chuck was being poisoned before we got to the lodge?”

“It’s hard to tell without the proper resources. When he was talking to you earlier, how much did he drink from the jug?”

“It was half-full when we started. He finished all of it while we were talking, which was approximately half a gallon in roughly eight minutes.”

“Can’t that kill you?” Faith asked. “Drinking a lot of water?”

“It can if you drink enough to dilute the sodium in your blood, but a half gallon won’t do that. A two-hundred-pound man needs at least one hundred ounces as a baseline per day. One gallon is one-hundred-twenty-eight ounces. At worst, drinking half a gallon that rapidly might make you vomit it back up.”

Will said, “It looks like there’s still some water at the bottom of the jug.”

Sara wanted to see the analysis of the jug’s content, but that would take weeks. She asked Will, “Was his belt undone when you were talking to him?”

“No. I assumed it came loose in the water.”

For the benefit of the camera, Sara pulled back the belt to show that the top button and part of the zipper of Chuck’s cargo shorts was undone. She leaned down to smell his clothing. “What was his affect toward the end of your conversation?”

“He was really sweaty,” Will said. “And really anxious for me to go.”

“He might have been worried about diarrhea. Maybe he was trying to take down his pants when the other symptoms hit.”

Faith said, “That explains why he didn’t yell for help. You don’t want another dude witnessing a blow-out.”

Will asked, “Do you see any defensive wounds?”

“None, but I want to look at his back. I’ll check his front pockets before I roll him.” Sara gently patted the material, trying to see if there was anything sharp before she put her fingers into the upper and lower pockets of Chuck’s cargo shorts. She called out her findings. “A tube of Carmex lip balm. A half-ounce bottle of Eads Clear eye drops. A folding line management tool. A folding fisherman’s multi-tool. A retractable tether. A pocketknife.”