Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

Can’t wait to show it to Nick. I think we got them all, but if we have to go back now, we know what to look for.” He held it up in the light, examining it from all angles.

Gabe shook his head in disbelief asked, “What’s down there that someone would do this—kill Charlie or all of us? It’s only a bridge.”

In the boat cabin, Gabe’s phone rang while he was changing clothes. By the time he got to it, it showed a missed message. He tapped the playback button.

“Gabe, it’s Carol. First, thanks for bringing Charlie back to us. It means a lot. Second, the service will be on Friday, our church, at two. The kids and I would very much appreciate it if you could say a few words. They are so upset anything you could say to help them would be a blessing. Thanks, Gabe. I know you’re busy, but the kids have questions, and we would all like to see you. Call me, please.”

Gabe listened to the message twice before putting down the phone. He shook his head sadly and ran his cold fingers through the stubble that passed for a haircut. What were the words that would heal the hurt, replace the loss, fill that gaping sinkhole in their lives? There are no words like that. You live through it and pray to God you can make it, one day at a time. Gabe dropped to the cabin’s berth with his head in his hands and changed focus. Charlie, if you weren’t already dead, I’d kick your butt till Tuesday.

CHAPTER 3

0900

The Eberly Home

Dark skies clearing slowly

I can’t believe we’ve lost her like this.” Mickey Eberly’s mother sobbed as she tried to answer Lieutenant Liz Johnson’s questions about her missing daughter. Ruth Eberly was in her late forties, with a kind face and gentle demeanor. Perfect grandmother material. Detective Bob Spencer, early forties, slightly overweight, carrying a sidearm and backup in an ankle holster, perfect cop material, was sitting in a corner rocker, near the fireplace of the cozy bungalow, quietly listening. On the mantle were pictures. Mickey was young, more than just attractive, and had a centered composure, looking confident beyond her years.

“Please tell us about her, Ruth. Everything you can remember,” Liz asked, in her most perfectly compassionate voice.

“She was eighteen, nearly a straight-A student, beautiful as you can see in the pictures. She was a good Christian girl, always in church, always living for others. We trusted her without question. What else?”

“Zack Greenly, what kind of relationship was that?”

“They love each other. They’ve been together for two years, but it started with Zack as more of a rescue project than a serious romantic thing. Last year it got more serious. They started going to church together. That was something.”

“We were happy for them,” Mark Eberly, Mickey’s dad, added. “Zack’s a good kid.”

“Do you think Zack could have hurt her? Say, if she was breaking up with him?” Liz asked.

“No. They’re planning to go to Atlanta. She got a scholarship to Emory for nursing, and he wants Georgia Tech for engineering. I don’t think they’ve ever even had a real argument.” Ruth folded and unfolded her hands, looking up at them and waiting.

“What else can you tell me about Zack?” Liz said and glanced quickly at Bob. Both caught that Mickey’s mother was describing the relationship in the present tense, and he glanced back at Liz who nodded.

Mark Eberly answered that one. “Like I said, we like Zack. He lost his father when he was pretty young. I think he was looking for an older guy he could relate to. And no, I don’t think he would have ever laid a hand on her.” He reached over and took his wife’s small hands in his.

“Then what do you think happened to her?” Bob asked the quiet, older man.

“Don’t know. Nothing about this adds up. I talked to Zack, and I’m convinced he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t know what happened either. She got out of the car, and two minutes later she was gone.”

2200

“Mind telling me what we’re doing out here, in this weather in the middle of the night?” Jim asked. The night was cloudy and dark with a light, misty drizzle and just enough wind coming off the water to be bone-chilling.

“I want one more shot at finding the girl.” Gabe explained what Bob had told him.

“And we couldn’t do that during normal working hours?”

“Just humor me, okay? There’s something off about this whole thing, and the answer is down there in the old bridge steel. I just need time to find it.”

“Yeah, but why in the middle of the night?”

“Captain Brady said he was afraid some of our guys might have been involved in this. He said it might go up the food chain. If that’s the case, we’re better off without spectators. And there’s something else. Did you say anything to anyone about my meeting with Captain Brady?”

“You got me out here to ask me that?” Jim said.

“I need to know, Jim.” Gabe waited until Jim was making eye contact, then pushed again.

“Well?”

“No, man. We agreed to keep it all quiet. Why would I say anything?”

“That’s what I need to know.”

“We’re partners, Gabe. I would never—”

“And that crack you made to Brady about my finding the explosives. What was that about?”

“You did find explosives. And if you get yourself killed down there, it’s my fault. I was just looking out for both of us.”

“How about next time you just trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, look, I’m sorry, okay? I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Good enough. I just wanted to hear it from you. Let’s go diving.”

When Jim started the compressor, an owl screeched and exploded out of a nearby tree, looking for quieter hunting grounds. Upriver, a doe and her fawn jumped back from the water and crashed into the underbrush. Dark clouds drifted past the hidden moon, casting dim light over