“Build it yourself. You order it. Comes in pieces.”
Maggie was more interested in the surface of the water. With the fog it was difficult to see more than ten feet. If Katie’s father was out here, his body might be miles downstream.
“CSU team and the medical examiner are on their way,” he said.
Cunningham stepped up beside her on the riverbank. In silence they studied the area, looking and listening. Both stood motionless. The slush-slap of water against the boat was the only sound. Twice Maggie saw something riding the current. Once it was a branch. The second time was debris.
“What are you thinking, Agent O’Dell?” Cunningham finally asked and she wondered if he was asking as a mentor testing his student or simply as her boss looking for an answer?
“I don’t think Katie’s father is the killer.”
“Why not?”
“A father who’d let his daughter witness that? Even if she just saw the aftermath. If he let her see that he probably wouldn’t have a problem killing her, too.”
“So that means if she’s still alive…”
“Her father is most likely dead.”
She felt his eyes on her now. Without looking she could see him push up the bridge of his eyeglasses and cross his arms. A gesture she was used to seeing.
“I think you’re right.” And he stared back out at the river.
They stood side by side, again, in silence. Several minutes passed and suddenly Cunningham’s arm shot out.
“There. On the other side of the river.” He was pointing to his right, head tilted, body bent at the waist, trying to get a better view.
Maggie saw it now, too. Something bobbing in the water. Something large but not moving with the current. Obviously tethered down.
“Let’s check it out.” Cunningham started to untie the boat.
He caught her off guard. Was that the way they did things in the field? Weren’t the CSU techs supposed to recover the bodies? What about evidence? And she found herself digging in her pockets for another pair of latex gloves.
Cunningham glanced up and saw her hesitancy.
“We’re just going to take a look.”
“But the boat –”
“It’s pretty clean. If it has been used we’re adding only our prints – easy enough to discount.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, but how could she argue with her boss who was already climbing down into the boat.
She looked over her shoulder. No one else had followed. From this angle the double-wide seemed far away and insignificant. The bed sheets continued to flap on the clothesline blocking her view of Delaney and the girl. A good thing. The girl was dehydrated and in shock. The last thing she needed was to watch them fish the bloated body of her father out of the river.
Cunningham rowed. It was obvious he’d done this before. He knew how to maneuver the oars to keep the small boat going in the right direction despite the current. Surprisingly it wasn’t any easier to see once they were in the water. What had looked to be a large mass suddenly disappeared as the fog moved in thick layers. Twice Cunningham stopped rowing and waited until one of them could spot it again.
“There.” Maggie pointed at what looked like a pile of debris bobbing and bumping against the opposite bank of the river.
Three feet away she could see the arms tangled in the branches. As Cunningham brought the rowboat parallel to the rubble Maggie saw the bloated face of a man before his head dipped under the surface again. The constant wash of water was probably the only thing that discouraged the insects.
“I don’t think his throat was slashed like the others,” she told Cunningham who was working to keep the boat beside the debris while she got a better look.
Frustrated, she grabbed at the vines and branches that made it impossible to see. The water was cold but the biggest tangle was just beneath the surface. Cunningham didn’t stop her. Instead he worked the oars encouraging her to tell him what else she could see.
“Do you think he drown?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
Maggie pulled and tugged at prickly twigs. The water was murky. She couldn’t see what was anchoring the body down. His arms were twisted inside the debris. At times his face bobbed up, eyes open almost as if staring at her, imploring her to help. She tried to focus instead on the tangled mess that kept him submerged, working her fingers until her hands were numb from the cold water.
“Is it possible he was hiding out here?” Cunningham asked.
“Why not hide in the cellar with his daughter?”
“Maybe he was trying to lead the killer away from her so that she could hide.”
“She said he fell in the water,” Maggie said, sitting to rest. “But she didn’t say anything about the killer. Do you think she saw him?”
Cunningham shrugged. “Might not make a difference. You know how reliable witnesses are. Compound that with the shock and her being just a little girl. But I know someone who can help her remember.”
Maggie turned back to the debris.