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

have taken this very seriously. I will too. Thank you, Mrs. Evans. Please sit down. Paul Evans, rise.”

Paul stood at attention and forced himself to meet the judge’s unwavering gaze. She looked like a buzzard or a witch in that black robe. “Yes, ma’am.” He tried to smile, but he was too scared.

“Well what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Evans?”

Paul hesitated . . .

“Well?”

He remembered Gabe’s coaching and replied, “I’ve hurt my family. My dad would be really mad. I knew better, and I’m truly sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”

She stared back at him and cocked her head. Paul saw the skepticism on her face, and his stomach knotted. Wonder how many times she’s heard that one?

“Well then, what shall we do with you? You need to remember this the next time desire meets opportunity.”

Paul was silent. This wasn’t looking too great.

To Paul’s surprise, it was Gabe who broke the silence.

“Your honor, if I may?”

“Certainly, Officer Jones. You have a suggestion?”

“Yes, your honor.” Gabe stood and waited.

“Please, proceed.”

What’s he doing? Now I’ll probably get life without parole.

“Your honor, the defendant has some skills that would be useful to my department. His father was on our dive team and was training him as a scuba diver. I believe we could find an opportunity for him to do custodial and maintenance work at the dive locker. He would be supervised by his father’s teammates, and that could be just the learning experience needed here.”

“Mrs. Evans, what do you think?”

“I agree completely, your honor.”

“Good. So ordered. Let’s say eight hours a week for the next six months with performance reviews submitted monthly to this court. Failure to meet acceptable performance will mandate immediate incarceration at juvenile hall. Dismissed.” She struck the gavel, and Paul’s day in court was over.

On the way out the door, Gabe said to Paul, “Don’t think for one minute I’m doing you a favor. You let down every member of your dad’s team, and if you think they are going to cut you an inch of slack, better think again.”

Paul examined a scuff on the toe of his freshly polished left shoe. So now I’m a janitor.

That afternoon Gabe drove back to Alethea’s with tar and patching material to fix, for the third time, the leak in her roof. He suspected there were more pinholes than he could see, and water was just collecting and draining to a low spot before trickling in. Two buckets of tar and several squares of tin had yet to solve the problem.

The roof needed to be replaced, and she could certainly afford it, but in her effort to capture the experience of the cabin, patching rather than replacing a leaking roof made the adventure feel more authentic. So why was he determined to fix it? Because the idea of her wet and cold in that shack was more than his conscience would bare.

“Afternoon, Gabriel,” she greeted as the chickens scattered and Cher stretched her tired bones to come off the porch and greet him. “I see you’ve come to battle the rain spirits again.”

He hugged her and laughed. “The only way I can win is to start over with new tin, but as long as you won’t let me do that a little more tar and a patch or two might not help, but it certainly won’t hurt.”

“How was your day in court?”

“Enough to make me glad I’m not a parent. I just don’t understand the self-destructiveness of kids. And I don’t know what to say to him that will get through that attitude.”

“Are you asking my advice?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Has he asked for your opinion?”

“Far from it. I don’t think he’s interested in anything I have to say.”

“Until he asks, he’s not listening.”

“Then I shouldn’t do anything?” He took off his hat to scratch his head, then replaced it.

“Just be with him. Just listen. Sooner or later he’s going to ask. When that happens, you will have the words. Now try to do a better job fixing my roof while I make us dinner.”

Early the next morning Gabe called Bob to get an update.

“We found the stolen SUV you shot, with the rear glass missing and three rounds in the driver’s door,” Bob began. “Nice shooting. It was rented with a false ID. However prints and DNA match a former Army special ops guy, recently returned from playing mercenary, with an outfit like Blackwater.”

“Is he a trooper like his partner?”

“Yep, assigned to Dade County, which is why we didn’t recognize him.”

“Have we found him?” Gabe asked.

“Nope—just a few drops of blood on the vehicle’s carpet. He was one lucky dude. Looks like you only nicked him.”

“Or not. I think the dog bit him. That would explain the small amount of blood. So who is he? How is the dog, have you heard?”

“Vet said it was touch and go, but now it’s go. I think my kids want to adopt him. If they do, it’s okay with me. Vet says the dog’s a real sweetheart. It would be good for the kids. We always had pets when I was growing up.”

“What about our shooter?”

His name is D. B. Johnson. D. B. for ‘Dirty Billy,’ a nickname he got in the Army. I don’t know why, nor am I particularly interested.”

“If he was Dade County he would have worked for Wesley Rogers who was the head of the dive team down there, right?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that name. He is an old timer. Why?”

“Was our Captain Brady on that team with Stewart and Rogers? I wonder if that’s how Brady knew the history of the bridges. We need to find out.” Gabe said, remembering what Richard Greenly’s ghost had told him.

“Okay, we add him to the list.”

CHAPTER 8

1900

The Evans Home

Red sky in the morning

Carol invited Gabe for dinner the next night. As he pulled into the drive Paul was in the open garage polishing his dad’s old Ford