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

the river and flood water washing out the footings and piers. It was perfect. As long as the repairs were completed when needed it all worked.”

“But—” Gabe pushed.

“Rogers wasn’t doing the inspections. He was turning in false reports. The state didn’t know how bad the damage was until it was too late.”

“You knew this was going on?” Catherine said. “You knew it could have ruined us, and you didn’t stop it?” She dropped into a chair glaring at her father in disbelief.

“No, I didn’t know about the bogus reports. It wasn’t our job to do those inspections.”

“And how did you find out what was going on?” Gabe demanded.

“Bo came to me and confessed. After the accidents, we realized we had to destroy the original plans. If they were discovered in an investigation, we’d have been ruined.”

“You arranged the fires?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah, Overstreet, Peterson, they had as much to lose as we did.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Catherine shrieked.

“Go on,” Gabe said to Conners, trying to ignore Catherine.

“Wyatt came back after he heard your diver died. He went to see his dad, and Bo told him what was going on. Wyatt assumed Bo was responsible for Corbitt’s and Nancy’s deaths. That’s why Wyatt killed him. He was devoted to his sister.”

“Bo killed Nancy? Wyatt killed his dad? That’s all lies. What are you doing?” Catherine said. She jumped to her feet, glaring at her father with contempt.

“Look, that’s it. Wyatt’s a killer,” he shouted at her.

“He is not!” she retorted. The look she gave her father made Gabe glad she wasn’t the one holding the pretty little Ruger.

From learning to read faces in his poker playing days, Gabe bet Conners was lying through his teeth. But then in the midst of lies—a fragment of truth. “If he’s got your daughter, you need to worry.”

“Do you have any idea where Wyatt would hide? Say a hunting or fishing camp off the beaten track?”

“No. Bo was a golfer. He didn’t hunt or fish,” Conners said. He moved again, Gabe countered and kept him from getting breathing room.

“How about Wyatt?”

“Wait. Bo had a houseboat. He used it as a party barge.”

“I remember the picture in his office. Where’s it docked?” Gabe asked.

“The marina at Cypress Knoll Country Club. Check there.”

“I never should have trusted you, Mitchell,” Mary said. “You’ve ruined us. Now we’re going to lose everything. Get out of my house.” She still had the Ruger leveled at Conners. Catherine stood by her mother in rock-solid defiance.

“Mary, I swear I didn’t know. They can’t prove anything.”

“Don’t shoot him,” Carol said and reached over to Mary’s arm. “The price would be too high.”

Mary lowered the Ruger and handed it to Carol. “Take this. I know the price, but if I keep it, I’m probably going to shoot him anyway.”

“Mary, I swear. I didn’t know,” Conners repeated. “What about us? I love you. Tell me you don’t believe any of this.”

“What I believe is that I regret ever having seen your sorry face. Now get out.” She stormed out of the room, leaving Catherine to carry on the battle.

“You’re not going to hang this on Wyatt, Dad,” Catherine said. “None of it.” She rose from the chair and followed her mother.

“I’m putting you in protective custody until we sort this out,” Bob said. “My officers are on the way. I’d be looking for a good attorney if I were you, and,” Bob paused with a dry smile, “I wouldn’t worry too much about another place to live. I think the state will take care of that for at least the next twenty years.”

“I’ll go,” Conners sneared, “but I’ll be out before dawn. Have you forgotten who I am?”

CHAPTER 40

0415

Cypress Knoll Country Club

Bob was on his cell phone to dispatch. “Get someone in to open boating registrations and find a houseboat registered to Brandt Bodine. It’s an emergency. I need it now. And get me an address for Cypress Knoll Country Club. Thanks.”

Bob stayed to wait for the uniformed patrol to take Conners. Before walking to the cruiser, Carol took Gabe’s hand, looked him hard in the eyes, and said, “Gabe, you pray harder than you’ve ever prayed for anything in your life.”

He kissed her and answered, “My mother told me once, ‘Every breath is a prayer.’ I’m already there. Let’s go find her.”

Bob’s phone rang with the marina address and the promise they would have the boat registration soon. Bob passed the information to Gabe, who headed straight to the cruiser with Carol and hit his blue lights. They were flying by the time they hit the highway. Thirty minutes down the road, Gabe’s phone rang.

Bob said, “It’s a sixty-footer, Bo’s Baby, twin diesel inboards. Coast Guard certified.”

“Bob, bring the briefcase and the files from Peterson’s. We can’t take a chance with Emily’s life.”

“Roger that. I’ve got a chopper waiting. Just let me know where to meet you.”

Thirty minutes later they were at the marina and greeted by two state patrol cars.

“No one here yet,” the trooper told them. “Manager’s on the way. Shouldn’t be long.”

“We’re not waiting,” Gabe said and gave them the boat description. He got the bolt cutters from his car and cut the chain. With guns and lights, they searched the docks. Nothing. Headlights arrived in the parking lot. A disgruntled marina manager got out glaring at his broken chain.

“Bo’s Baby? Yeah, she pulled out late this evening. Bodine hadn’t taken her out in years, and I’m surprised she even started. She belched black diesel like an old locomotive. His kid wanted fresh fuel, but we’re out. Won’t get a delivery until Friday.”

“You got cameras?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah, monitor’s in the office, come on.” As he led them down the dock, he laughed and said, “The old man told me he named the boat that so he could tell the girls he’d named his boat for them. Said it worked every time. That man did love to party.” In the office, the manager fast-forwarded the disk until they saw Wyatt Bodine walk alone down