"Go long," he said.
His friends sprinted into the park. Benny waved, telling them to keep going. He heaved the football with all his strength. Wind-aided, it nearly made it to his friends. They wrestled with each other and rolled in the grass to gain control of the bouncing ball. Benny ran to catch up with them. His friend pitched it back to him, rugby-style. The threesome ran along the asphalt bicycle path, pitching the ball back and forth among them. The winding trail took them up and over a hill, deep into a lush green meadow. The impressive Japanese tea garden loomed ahead. The boys were more focused on the ball than the sights. The long run had them breathless, but no one wanted to be the sissy who stopped the game. Benny pitched a high one. His friend got a hand on it but missed. The ball rolled down the hill into a heavily wooded area.
"Idiot!" shouted Benny.
"Me? You threw it!"
They stood at the edge of the bike trail. The hillside dropped off at a steep forty-degree angle. The longpole pines were nearly thirty feet tall, the Douglas firs even taller. Yet the ravine was so deep that some of the treetops were at the boys' eye level. They could hear running water splashing against the rocks somewhere below, but the evergreens were too thick to actually see the creek.
Benny glared at this friend. "Go get it."
"No way."
Benny shoved him off the ledge. He rolled about thirty feet down the hillside before grabbing hold of a tree. Loose gravel continued down the hill. He looked up in fear, about ready to cry. Benny didn't flinch. "Get the ball," he said.
The other boy spoke up. "Just forget it. It was stolen anyway."
"You afraid?" asked Benny.
"No. Are you?"
Benny's eyes narrowed. "If you get there before I do, you can keep the ball."
His pal smiled at the challenge. Quickly but carefully they started sliding on their butts down the side of the hill. It was grassy at the top, making it easier to control the descent. But the mud near the bottom made the slide even faster. Too fast. They were bouncing, then tumbling out of control. Low-hanging branches. slapped their faces. Mud was flying everywhere, into their shoes and up their shirts. The farther the descent, the darker it got. The sound of the creek grew louder, until finally they landed with a thud at the foot of the hill.
Benny groaned. His friend groaned louder. They were only a few feet apart, but there was barely enough light for them to see one another.
"Benny?"
He shook his head, getting his bearings. "Yeah?"
"What the heck is that?" "What?"
His friend pointed. "That. Up there, behindyou."
Benny turned. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dimness. Something was in the tree, a good twenty feet overhead. He stared, trying to focus. Finally, he could see it. Turning. Twisting. His eyes widened. There was no mistaking it.
A body was hanging at the end of a rope.
The boys looked at each other, then screamed in unison as they ran the other way along the side of the creek.
For a special agent in the FBI, it was hard to define a "typical" Monday. The Monday after a wedding like Andie's definitely was not typical.