Mourn the Living by Henry Perez

Author:Henry Perez [Perez, Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Murder, Journalists, Mystery & Detective, Serial murder investigation, Crime, Revenge, General, Serial murderers, Suspense fiction, Thrillers, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9780786020331
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 2010-08-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 53

For a moment, Chapa wondered if someone, anyone, was watching all of this from the safety of the shore. On a busier day at the park there might've been a boater nearby, or a quick-thinking forest ranger with a rope.

But there was no one who could help him now.

As Chapa tipped over the edge of the dam he felt himself flip sideways on the way down, pushed by the short waterfall into the white water below. No rocks were waiting for him at the other end of the drop, but the river was much deeper, and Chapa felt himself being pulled down into the mud-green darkness.

Five feet under, ten, maybe more.

Righting himself, he started swimming for the surface, letting the current carry him forward--it didn't matter how far. Chapa felt like he was dragging a trailer with just his shoulders and thighs. His muscles burning against the cold water.

Then, in a single desperate lunge, he came up for air and saw the riverbank just twenty feet in the distance. The water was not as turbulent now, as it began the process all over again on its way to the next dam. Chapa had no desire to find out how far away that would be.

He began to gradually swim toward the shore. Managing two feet in that direction for every five he was carried downriver. Finally, the tips of his shoes pressed into the soft muck along the river's edge.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulders and back, he willed his body forward, and was trudging up the muddy bank a minute later. As soon as he found dry footing, Chapa stopped and took off his waterlogged leather jacket. He checked to make sure his wallet and keys were still there, then draped the coat over his right arm and began searching for the path to his car.

A group of children stopped playing four square as they stared, openmouthed, at the man who had emerged from the river and was now walking toward them. Chapa knew how he must have looked to the kids, and realized that he'd just given them a strange story to tell for the rest of their lives.

Chapa leaned down and picked up the red ball that was bouncing away from the children, tossed it back their way, and smiled. He could still feel their eyes on him as he started down a gravel path he assumed led back to where his car was parked.

He knew that if someone had been stalking him back there, upriver, they could still be around now. Though his clothes felt heavy, there was also no hesitation in his step. Chapa thought back to that day in Miami as he realized he'd have to cross the woods to reach the safety of his car.

Back in the forest now, and on the gravel portion of the same path he'd walked earlier, Chapa came to a dead stop when he heard what sounded like the crunching of gravel. Then the sound was gone, like it had never been there.

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