Dead Water by Victoria Houston

Author:Victoria Houston [Victoria Houston]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-3147-7
Publisher: F+W Media, Inc.
Published: 2011-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

twenty-two

“There is certainly something in angling … that seems to produce a gentleness of spirit, and a pure serenity of mind. ”

Washington Irving

When Osborne returned to the porch, Lew gave him a quizzical look. “What do you make of that?”

“I’m not sure,” said Osborne. “Let me think about it.”

She turned to Ray. “I assume you surveyed that area around Timber Lodge and didn’t find anything?”

“I’m sorry, Chief. I haven’t had a chance. Tomorrow morning on my way to Boulder, I promise. I was tied up with Nick all day today.”

“Oh….” Lew was obviously disappointed. “Forget it … all the rain.”

“No, the rain shouldn’t make much difference,” said Ray. “That’s a fifty-year-old pine forest back in there. A thick carpet of pine needles, very little undergrowth, and a canopy that doesn’t let much wind and rain in. If anyone was back in there, I’ll know. I’ll call in tomorrow morning if I find anything, okay?”

The back door rattled as he spoke. “I’ll bet that’s Nick. C’mon in,” hollered Ray, tipping back in his chair.

The kid slouched through the doorway onto the porch, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his baggy black shorts. His eyes peered out, sullen under bushy brown eyebrows and a wide forehead he hadn’t yet grown into. Osborne could see the boy would be as tall and broad-shouldered as Ray someday, but right now he was all raw material. The soft lighting on the porch didn’t help, either, pooling in his eyes to make his mood seem darker than it might have been. Osborne couldn’t help thinking the kid cast a shadow over what had been a very pleasant evening so far.

“Hey,” said Ray, his voice softer than usual, “phone didn’t work, right?”

“Right.” The word was clipped and full of blame as if Ray, and only Ray, was responsible for the acute dysfunction of the entire Loon Lake regional telephone system. Nick glanced at the adults without changing expression, then walked across the porch to plunk his frame down on a sofa.

“Have a seat,” said Lew, after the fact but with a smile.

“Nick,” said Ray hurriedly, “I’d like you to meet Lewellyn Ferris. She’s our Loon Lake chief of police and an excellent fly-fisherman. Chief Ferris, Nick wants to learn how to fly-fish.”

“You mean fisherwoman.” Nick had a real knack for making his opinion of Ray’s intellect quite clear. Pulling himself up from the sofa with great effort and shuffling all his knees and elbows across the brief expanse of flooring, he made the effort to shake Lew’s hand. His posture shouted, Well, if I have to … Osborne was bemused. In the space of less than five minutes, the boy had managed to be rude to both of Ray’s good friends. His opinion of the kid was hardening into a firm dislike.

“No, I said exactly what I meant,” said Ray. “She’s a terrific fisherman.”

Nick shrugged, then shuffled back to plunk down again. He ignored Ray.

“Must be tough to be a cop when you don’t even

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