Out of the Depths (11 page)

The only person she confided in was Will. Trudy Lynn slipped down to the dock and took the old man aside. “I’m going downriver. If anybody asks, just tell them I stepped out for a few minutes.”

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Will said as he helped her launch a red canoe. “Jim might be out there, waitin’ for somebody to drift by alone so’s he can steal their boat or something.”

“He’d have to catch me, first. You know I’m a wiz with a paddle.”

Will started to mutter under his breath. She couldn’t help teasing him. “One word about women being weak and I’ll bean you with my purse. A blow like that could be fatal.”

“That’s ’cause it’s full of all that heavy money you’ve been takin’ in. Never knew you to carry a purse on the
river, though, so I’ll take my chances. Just see
you
don’t take any.”

“I won’t. I plan to drift awhile, calm down and try to get my head on straight. This whole experience with Jim has made me way too irritable.”

“You ought to take that Cody fella with you.”

“I invited him. He turned me down.”

The old man shrugged. “Okay. You’re the boss. Where do you want me to send the van?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided how far I’ll go yet.” She patted her pocket. “I have my cell phone. I’ll call after I land and tell you where to pick me up.

“Before nightfall?”

Chuckling, she nodded. “Yes,
Papa
. Before the sun goes down. I promise.” A person in a familiar, bright blue jacket caught her eye. “Uh-oh. One of those stubborn reporters I’ve been avoiding is headed this way. Gotta go. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. And don’t let anybody follow me.” She pointed. “Especially not her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pushing off, Trudy Lynn paddled furiously. She hadn’t believed there was any limit to her capacity for hospitality until recently. Now, she knew otherwise. All she wanted was for everybody to pack up and go home. Well,
almost
everybody. She wouldn’t mind if Cody Keringhoven stayed a while longer.

Cody again
, she mused.
Always Cody
.

As her paddle slid silently into the water with hardly a ripple she realized that Cody had slipped into her mind, into her heart, as effortlessly as that smooth pad
dle bisected the clear, cold water. He was already an integral part of her thoughts. And, like the river that flowed into the emptiness left by the retreating paddle and obliterated all sign of its passing, she couldn’t look back and see how it had happened.

Cody finished turning the tables on the reporters, in spite of Trudy Lynn’s admonition against it, and headed for the little store to report what he’d learned. By the time he’d worked his way through the crowd to talk to Anna, he was positive Trudy Lynn wasn’t in the building. Widget was raising the roof in the back room.

He greeted the teen with a smile. “Hi. Boss lady gone?”

“Yup.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I’d find her, would you?”

“No. Sorry.”

Cody leaned closer. “Want to give me a hint?”

The girl giggled. “You might ask Will. He knows everything.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that. Where would he be?”

She whispered behind her cupped hand. “He was supposed to help Farley work on the dock this afternoon.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

When he ducked out the door he noticed a few reporters gathering like turkey vultures circling fresh roadkill. Little wonder Trudy Lynn had felt the need to make herself scarce. If she’d given him any choice besides going by water, he’d have gladly joined her.

The Spring River was nothing like the Tuolumne, he
reasoned, hoping to come to grips with his uneasiness. He’d never been hesitant to grab a boat and try to navigate any watercourse, no matter how dangerous, so what was stopping him now? What, indeed?

It wasn’t fear. Not the way he’d felt it before. Only a fool would deny being afraid during a whitewater trip. That was what heightened the excitement, made the adrenaline flow. It was a familiar part of the exhilaration.

These current emotions were different. Unlike anything else he’d experienced. It was as if he loathed the water so much he didn’t even want to look at it, let alone trust himself to enter it. Where before he’d seen beauty and power, he now saw ugliness and malice. His injured knee wasn’t the only thing keeping him on dry land, was it? Part of his heart and soul had also died when his client had drowned so tragically, so needlessly.

Cody was grim from retrospection when he reached the dock where Will and Farley were nailing down replacement planks. He waited on shore till one of the men looked up.

“Anna sent me to see you, Will.”

“Come on out, son.”

“That’s okay. Looks like you’re almost done. I don’t mind waiting.”

The old man rose stiffly to his feet. “I see my cane worked for ya.”

“Very well, thanks. It’s been a pleasure to get rid of those crutches.”

“Glad to help.” Will walked closer, inspecting their work, board by board, as he came. “So, what can I do
for ya this time? You ready to paddle your own canoe?” He cackled at the stale joke.

“No. Thanks anyway. I can’t seem to find your boss. Anna told me you might know where she’s hiding.”

“I might.”

“Well?”

“Miz Brown told me not to say.” Drawing his fingers and thumb slowly down his cheeks to meet at the point of his chin, Will looked Cody up and down. “She didn’t want no reporters buggin’ her. But since she asked you to go along, I reckon it’d be okay to tell ya.”

Icy needles of fear prickled along Cody’s nerves. “She didn’t take a canoe?”

“She sure did. ’Bout ten minutes ago. Say, you okay, son? You look kinda pale.”

“I’m fine,” Cody lied. His heart was pounding, his mouth so dry he could hardly swallow, let alone sound casual when he spoke. “Did she go alone?”

“Yep. I tried to talk her out of it but she’s one stubborn lady. There’s not a lot of traffic on the river this late in the day, especially not till the time changes to daylight saving next month. She promised me she’d go ashore and call for the van before dark.”

Concerned, Cody shaded his eyes and squinted at the setting sun. “How long does she have?”

“An hour and a half. Maybe two. Depends on the lay of the land.”

Something inside Cody kept insisting he had to act, even though the thought almost made him gag. He pointed to an empty canoe. “How hard is it to man one of those?”

“Not hard at all,” Will said. “It might be a little tough to balance or kneel to paddle with that stiff leg of yours but I wouldn’t worry. Compared to them rapids you’re used to, this river’s easy as pie. Want me to set you up?”

“Yes,” Cody said. He gritted his teeth. “Give me the works, life vest and all. If I turn the thing over I don’t want to have to try to tread water.”

“Might do you good,” the old man offered. “I hear swimmin’ is good fer bad joints.”

“In warm water,” Cody replied. “Trudy Lynn told me this comes from an underground spring about thirty miles north. She says it’s so cold when it hits the surface they built a trout hatchery at the headwaters.”

“True enough. Them trout love it. The colder the water the better.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Cody said flatly.

Shrugging into the bright orange life vest he slipped a map of the river into his pocket, then cautiously climbed into the waiting canoe while Farley and Will steadied it. Thankfully, there was enough room to stretch his sore leg as far as he needed for comfort.

“Okay. I’m in,” he said. “I’ve been to all the landings with Trudy so I know what they look like. I’ll catch up to her unless it gets too dark to see.”

Will handed him the cane. “Better take this, too. Some of that country’s pretty rugged.”

“Yeah, I know.” Cody gritted his teeth and steeled himself for what he was about to do. “Push me off,” he said hoarsely. “I’m ready.”

P
eace flowed over Trudy Lynn like the ripples bathing the smooth rocks beneath her canoe. She dangled her fingertips in the water and drifted with the slow current. Few course corrections were necessary in this deeper portion of the river. Water levels were holding higher than normal since the heavy rain they’d had the day Jim had disappeared, and she skimmed along above submerged hazards she’d have had to paddle around in drier times.

A red squirrel on the east bank realized he had company and scampered up the closest oak. Watching him, Trudy Lynn noticed dozens of robins. Spring was here all right. Soon, the flock would pair off and the migrating purple martins would arrive. The meadowlarks would begin their morning serenades and the steady calls of the whip-poor-will would lull her to sleep every night.

She sighed. Too bad
her
life wasn’t that simple. Just when she thought she had it all figured out, along came another problem. A vivid image of Cody Keringhoven popped into her mind.
Speaking of problems
.

One quick assessment of the river told her it would be safe to close her eyes for a moment of prayer. Where should she begin? What should she ask? If she knew
that
, she’d have the dilemma half-solved.

Finally, she whispered, “Father, thank you for all this. For letting me live here.” Gratitude filled her heart to overflowing. “This is a beautiful place and I am grateful for everything. I just need help dealing with the people.”

Boy, was that the truth. Give her birds and squirrels and Widget and she’d be totally content, she told herself. Was that true? Was she really happy single? She’d certainly thought so until very recently. Until she’d been given the chance to spend time with Cody. Was the Lord using him to try to tell her she was on the wrong track?

Trudy Lynn’s eyes popped open. She blinked in the brightness.
Whoa
. Cody might be someone’s idea of the perfect husband but he certainly wasn’t hers. For one thing, he was way too opinionated. Too bossy. Then again, maybe God merely wanted her to open her mind to the possibility of marriage. Even Adam had needed his Eve. It would be comforting to have someone to share both her good times and her burdens. Yeah. Like now.

Her worried musings turned to her cousin. How could Jim have vanished so completely? Finding a life vest and damaged paddle was worrisome enough. Losing a full-size canoe was nearly impossible. Even if it had floated further than normal due to the flooding, it would run aground eventually. Her camp ID and logo were stenciled on it. It should have turned up by now and so should Jim.

Lost in a fog of contradictory thoughts, Trudy Lynn
had quit paying much attention to the passing scene. A cloud of aggravating gnats buzzed around her head. A hungry one landed on her forearm.

“Ouch!” She swatted and missed. The tiny insect’s escape route took it up and away, to her left. Waving her hands to disperse the swirling mass of insects she caught a flash of unusual color in her peripheral vision.

Seconds passed before she reacted. Her head snapped around. Eyes wide, she scanned the bank. Nothing seemed amiss. Still, if she let herself continue to drift on by, she’d always wonder if she should have stopped to take a better look.

Grabbing her paddle, Trudy Lynn dropped the blade into the water and used its drag like a rudder to swing the bow of the canoe toward shore. Rather than fight against the current, she’d hit the beach and hike back. It wouldn’t take long. All she wanted to do was assure herself that what she’d glimpsed was unimportant. Chances were good it was nothing but a pile of trash a group of campers or picnickers had left behind.

She was ashore before she realized what a poor choice the rocky, wooded terrain was for socializing. Flying insects would be enough to discourage most tourists, and the bugs hiding on the forest floor, more than ready to dine on man or beast, would deter the diehards.

Removing her life vest and leaving it behind so it wouldn’t catch on the undergrowth and slow her down, she headed into the forest. The sooner she satisfied her curiosity and got back on the river where she belonged, the happier she’d be.

Cody easily mastered maneuvers with the paddle. Now that he was committed, his misgivings were lessening. If he’d had any choice he still wouldn’t have wanted to go canoeing, yet he did seem to be coping pretty well. That was a relief, given his earlier uneasiness.

Trudy Lynn hadn’t exaggerated when she’d claimed it was peaceful on the Spring River. After the Tuolumne, this trip would have seemed almost boring if he hadn’t been on a mission. Catching up to Trudy was the most important quest Cody had undertaken in ages. If he’d had any inkling that his hardheaded landlady was going to wander off alone, he’d have forced himself to accompany her no matter how disconcerted he’d felt. If anything bad happened…

He paddled faster. Muscles that had once piloted him through raging rapids and over foaming cataracts adopted a familiar rhythm. Cody likened himself to a marathon runner who was so focused on reaching a goal he refused to acknowledge fatigue. Good thing, too. Judging by the rosy glow in the west he was running out of time.

Brambles caught in Trudy Lynn’s T-shirt and scratched her bare legs, making her wish she’d worn jeans instead of walking shorts. She could tell how high the river had most recently crested by noting the undulating piles of dead leaves and twigs it had deposited along the upper banks. No wonder poor Jim had lost some of his equipment. He must have been caught in a fearsome torrent.

One foot slipped in the slick mud, dropping her to her knees. She righted herself and grabbed a deadfall for balance. Leaving her canoe had been a mistake. Here she was, in the middle of nowhere, covered with gummy, red mud, rotting leaves and disgusting slime, chasing figments of her imagination that had probably never existed in the first place. If she hurt herself, no telling how long it would be before rescuers found her.

“I should turn back and forget it,” she muttered. That was excellent advice. Unfortunately, a contrary part of her character refused to be deterred by logic. It couldn’t be much farther to the place where she’d seen the flash of color. As soon as she was satisfied it was nothing, she’d gladly make for the nearest landing and phone Will to come get her.

The vegetation grew thicker, harder to traverse. A stand of young hickory trees was almost impenetrable. Trudy Lynn was about to call it quits when she spied another bright spot of paint. It was red, as she’d thought, but it wasn’t trash. Even without seeing a number or name, she knew. It was one of her canoes. And the only one unaccounted for was the one Jim had taken the day he’d disappeared.

It took Trudy Lynn several more minutes to fight her way to her goal. Flood or no flood, it was clear the canoe hadn’t wound up that far out of the water by accident. Though it may have floated in this direction while unmanned, it hadn’t pulled itself up the bank and covered its own hull with loose brush for camouflage.

Uneasy, she stopped and peered into the surrounding woods. Shadows had deepened while she’d been on foot. Details were dimmer. Not only was the sun obviously setting, nearby trees were so close together they blocked out the usual patterns of dappled, filtered light on the leaf-strewn ground.

An unexplained tingle skittered up her spine. The fine hairs on the back of her neck tickled. She wrapped her arms around her torso and shivered, head to toe, before finding enough willpower to reclaim her self-control.

Being afraid was ridiculous. These woods were her home, her solace, her place to hide when the outside world began to close in.

Dwelling on that truth, she managed to relax a bit, though she couldn’t totally banish the innate urge to chatter whether there was anyone else present or not.

“What I do next is critical,” she told herself, calmed by the sound of her own voice. “I have to tag a tree next to the water so I can locate this place again when I bring the police. And I need to back out of this thicket so I don’t disturb the ground any more than I already have.”

Such sensible planning triggered a smile. At last she had a plausible excuse for reading all those mystery stories Will kept teasing her about. Hopefully, she’d learned enough from them to do her—and the police—some good.

She took several steps backward, then halted. “What if poor Jim is in the canoe? He could be hurt. Or worse.”

If she crept closer to peek, she’d know for sure. If she
didn’t let curiosity get the better of her, however, any footprints or other clues to his disappearance would be preserved. Which choice made the most sense?

Trudy Lynn had encountered dead animals in the woods a few times. Their stench was unforgettable. The air she was currently breathing was clear, fresh, unsullied, proving there were no dead bodies close by. And since no one who was incapacitated could have buried the canoe that well with himself still inside, she was reassured.

Satisfied, she gave in to the growing urge to turn and flee. Since her hands, knees and shoes were already covered with mud she took no pains to proceed slowly and avoid getting dirtier. Her impulsiveness led to a slipping, sliding descent to the river, punctuated by an occasional “Oof,” or “Ugh.”

She’d almost reached her beached canoe when a guttural, angry-sounding “Stop!” stood her hair on end.

She froze. Whirled. Stared, openmouthed. The man crouched on the low bluff directly above her was terrifying! He had wild, stringy hair and a beard in the same condition. His shadowed figure conveyed so much malice it took away what little breath she had left. In his hand was a rifle or shotgun, she couldn’t tell which, and his clothing looked as if he’d put it on years ago and hadn’t taken it off since.

“You’re trespassing!” he roared. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Trudy Lynn hoped the good Lord would forgive her for telling a bold-faced lie because this seemed like a
very dangerous moment to admit the truth. “I got lost,” she called back. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving.”

Instead of the chastising she’d expected, the man gave a bearlike bellow and charged!

Trudy Lynn didn’t know she was screaming till she heard the piercing wails and realized they had to be coming from her! She planted both hands on the prow of the canoe and shoved it into the river as far as she could wade, then gave one last mighty push and heaved herself aboard.

Instead of continuing forward, the canoe came to an abrupt halt and began rocking. Violently. She knew what she’d see before she looked back. Her pursuer had her! And he was starting to reel her in like a helpless fish.

Her paddle lay on the floor beneath her. She grabbed it and flailed wildly at him. The edge of the blade cracked against the metal rim of the canoe. With a maniacal laugh the man yanked the splintered weapon out of her hands and turned it on her.

Trudy Lynn ducked, stumbled, backpedaled. She had only a split second in which to decide. If she dived over the side she might have a better chance of survival. Staying in the canoe like a sitting duck was out of the question. There was no telling what her attacker might do if—when—he got his filthy hands on her.

I knew I should have polished up my swimming skills
. Well, it was too late for regrets. From here on she’d have to either wade, swim as best she could or drown. Given this man’s aura of rage and menace, any of those choices would be preferable to letting him get close enough to touch her.

A woman’s screams echoed up the river and across the hills, confusing the direction the sound was coming from. Cody strained to listen. He had no idea if Trudy Lynn was the one yelling. He didn’t care. Anyone that scared needed help. Fast. Hopefully, he was close enough to give it.

He plied the paddle skillfully and sent the canoe skimming along, faster and faster. In the distance, a male voice was shouting curses. Something crashed. Splintered. Banged. It sounded like a dozen men were brawling just around the next bend in the river. He had to be getting close.

The woman’s screeching suddenly ceased. Cody’s heart leaped, bringing the bitter taste of gall to his throat. Silence was a bad sign. It meant the situation had changed, probably not for the better.

Slewing around a curve he spotted another canoe. A man was standing in the water next to it, hip deep. Perhaps he was trying to rescue someone. That would explain the shouting.

Cody continued his rapid approach. He saw the man climb into the canoe and kneel to use his hands as oars. Sighting along a line to where the other boat was headed, Cody saw a figure splashing in the water.

He was farther away but his pace was much faster. Chances were good he’d reach the swimmer first. Elated, he shouted, “Hang on. I’m coming!”

When the person in the water screamed, “Cody!” then went under, his gut tied in a knot. He’d found Trudy Lynn.

If this is what it’s like to die I don’t like it. Where are the bright lights? The comforting feelings?

Trudy Lynn’s toes touched bottom. Instinct spurred her to bend her knees enough for a powerful jump.

She popped to the surface, gasping and spitting. Had she really seen Cody a moment ago? Or was hallucinating an element of death by drowning?

Wet hair plastered to her face and hampered her vision. She managed another “Cody?” and a few wild strokes with her arms before going under again. This time, however, she’d grabbed a gulp of air and knew what to do.