Chapter 45

Josie, Turner and four uniformed officers left Brennan standing sentry along Prout Road, across from the Tranquil Trails driveway, and waded into a meadow that sloped downward, covered in knee-high grass. A trail meandered through it, the width of a single horse. Where the ground turned to mud, Josie saw a smattering of hoofprints. Flies hovered lazily over large piles of excrement.

Turner waved a hand in front of his nose. "You've got to be kidding me."

Josie sidestepped a particularly robust heap. "Those fancy loafers of yours are not going to survive this."

They continued down the trail for half a mile where the grass became trees, plunging them into shade finally. Josie pulled her collar away from her neck and used the edge of it to wipe at the perspiration on her face. Turner rolled up his shirtsleeves one by one. "Where did you say this trail leads?"

"Did you even look at the map?" Josie said. The rush of water growing louder with each step made it obvious where they were. "The river."

Moments later, they emerged from the trees onto the bank of the Susquehanna River and fanned out along its bank. Water swirled and rushed past their feet, sliding over rocks. Where sticks, leaves, and fallen trees jammed along the bank, a yellowish foam swirled.

"What the hell is that?" Turner stepped up beside her. "Are those suds? Did this guy do his laundry down here, or what?"

Josie shook her head. "It's river foam."

"River foam? Rivers have foam now?"

"Yes, it's just from debris that breaks down naturally. Leaves, sticks, organic matter."

Ignoring her explanation, Turner wrinkled his nose. "It stinks down here, by the way. Like horseshit and I don't know, something else."

The water was brown and shallow until it reached halfway across to the other bank, where the deeper water was a greenish-blue. Opposite them, the bank was shorter and steeper, reaching up to meet a narrow two-lane road. Beyond that was a tall rock face that made up the base of the next mountain.

Turner swatted a mosquito away. "You're telling me some horseback rider was on this trail and thought they saw Seth down here? How in the hell would he get down here? I don't see a box truck, or anywhere to park one."

"He could have abandoned that," Josie pointed out. "That would be the smart move, and he could have come from any direction on foot."

Turner pointed to the opposite bank. "Does that road connect to Prout Road at any point?"

"No," Josie said. "They run parallel. You'd have to take that into the city, cross the South Bridge, weave your way back through most of the city and then get onto Prout Road."

"I don't see anything," Turner said. He nudged a stone with his toe, sending it tumbling into the water with a splash.

Josie scanned the river, thinking how good it would feel to jump in. The air was warm but the river would be cold this time of year. Instead, she picked her way along the bank, toward a line of three Denton PD officers who stood sentry near the tree line. The other uniformed officers walked with her.

The riverbank would be a smart place to camp, assuming Seth didn't believe the water was poisoned. This particular area was pretty remote. To the north, heading away from the city, all Josie could see was water until it curved out of view. Southward, the water rushed toward the city. A few miles in that direction, there was another bend in the river where a tree-covered portion of the opposite bank extended well into the water. A blunted peninsula. Beyond that, no more of the Susquehanna was visible.

She heard Turner kick another stone into the water. "This is a waste of time."

"You have more pressing matters?"

He caught up to the rest of them easily, jockeying for position next to her. "I have to stay close to you, honey. Make sure you don't get your ass handed to you again."

He was like a splinter that broke off when you tried to remove it and then caused an infection. The kind that gave you pus.

"Will you just shut up?" Josie said wearily. Officer Conlen greeted the group of them with a nod and pointed toward the trees, away from the riverbank.

Between two large ash trees was an opening large enough for two people to walk side by side. Just beyond was a small clearing. The ground was mud and grass. A dead oak had fallen on its side, making a natural bench—or a shelter, depending on what you needed. On the ground under it a threadbare flannel shirt lay crumpled. It was faded red and white and from what Josie could see, missing at least one of its sleeves.

"A shirt," Turner said. "That could be from anyone."

"No," Josie said. "It's his. He was wearing that when he attacked me in Mira's house."

"That doesn't really help us," said Turner. "He knew someone saw him. Now we got half the force out here looking for him. Sweetheart, he's gone."

"Our K-9 unit might still be able to find him," Josie said, pulling out her phone.