Ghost River Jon Coon (free reads TXT) 📖

Back in Bob’s cruiser Gabe tried Zack’s cell, and the recording announced the number was no longer active.

“It can’t be just coincidence, can it?” Gabe wondered aloud as he and Bob drove back to Jewels Peterson’s Southern mansion. “The girl dies or goes missing at the same place the kid’s dad dies after a big argument with the father-in-law, who’s the head engineer. Now the boy’s off the grid too.”

“Right, and then Charlie gets killed looking for the girl. Same spot. Now Peterson’s forgotten the diver who died is his son-in-law? What is there about that bridge that’s attracted so many fatalities, maybe murders? Something is waiting for us at the bottom of that river. Something that needs to be found.”

And now we know there’s another ghost in the river, Gabe thought. Another sad conversation waiting. Perhaps this one will have some answers.

“Richard’s death was an unfortunate distraction,” Peterson responded to Gabe’s question. The old man had been sleeping when they arrived: his scowl was in response to their intrusion. “It had nothing to do with the bridge and was probably just a careless accident.”

“Do you mean it was his own fault?” Gabe asked. This time they were in a stately living room full of well worn, Civil War-era furniture and portraits of grandly mustached men in gray uniforms. Peterson parked his wheelchair in front of the portraits, and Gabe thought it was to position him among the rank of his distinguished forbearers. “You of all people know how dangerous black water diving can be,” Peterson began. “That’s why there are standard operating procedures: protocols for doing the work. It’s my understanding Richard either had never learned or had chosen to ignore most of them.”

“Can you be specific?”

“Diving alone, no backup air tank, no dive plan. Shall I go on, or is that enough?”

Gabe thought immediately of Charlie, who when not under duress always followed the department’s SOPs and wondered why Greenly would have ignored standard safety precautions. Was there something motivating him, the way Mickey’s parents had pressured Charlie?

“It’s my understanding you two didn’t get along. Is that true?” Bob asked. He was standing by a leaded glass window. Peterson turned his chair to face him.

“It’s true. It was a family matter and none of your business.”

“Do you remember an argument you had shortly before his last dive?” Gabe asked.

“I do.” Peterson turned back to Gabe.

“Could you share that with us please?”

“Again, it was strictly family and therefore none of your business. Is that all?”

“Not quite,” Gabe said. “Just before Captain Brady was murdered I saw two men leaving his home with what looked like blueprints. Big ones. Do you have any idea what they might have been after or what Brady’s interest could have been? We are assuming they pertained to one of the bridges.”

“You told me Brady was dead. And I told you I didn’t remember knowing him. So I wouldn’t have any idea what his interest in the bridges might have been.”

“Really?” Gabe answered. “You both worked for the state for what, thirty years, and you never met him?”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you. I am a bit forgetful these days.”

“Have you remembered to let your old office know about the bridge?”

“I did, and they appreciate your information. Your men did a good job with that inspection.”

“Mr. Peterson, two good men have died, including your son-in-law, and someone went to a great deal of trouble to booby trap the old bridge. Certainly you have some idea why. What could have possibly been worth all that trouble?” Gabe asked and waited for an answer. “And one more thing. Do you have any idea where your grandson might be? He hasn’t been home in a couple of days, and his phone is out of service.”

“Officer, I wish I could help you. But I’m as much in the dark as you are. I don’t know anything about Zack or what’s happened on the bridge. Now if that’s all, I’m very tired . . .” He turned the wheelchair, pointed them toward the door, and abruptly left them standing on the frayed carpet.

Harriet, his housekeeper, came in to escort them out. “He’s bad sick, you know. Y’all need to treat him better. Hasn’t got him much longer.”

As they descended the marble porch steps, Bob asked, “What do you think?”

“He looks sick, but I’m not certain how sick,” Gabe answered. “One thing’s for sure. He’d have made a great politician.”

CHAPTER 7

2030

Chattahoochee River Bridge

By the light of the moon

After three days of nerve-racking dives, Gabe and Lomis finished removing the trip wires, detonators, and shaped charges. They declared the site safe for the repair work to be started on the new bridge and the cleanup completed on the old one. When Gabe returned he saw several trucks and a big barge with a hundred-ton crane. A dredge was tied to a makeshift dock, and truckloads of rebar and steel sheet piling were being stacked on the bank.

A familiar sight for Gabe was the white double lock recompression chamber, portable dive shack, and 5120 diesel compressor, with stacks of hoses and dive gear neatly stored on the port side of the barge. Life was less complicated in my oilfield days, he thought. And I didn’t get shot at nearly as often.

Now, a day later, Gabe was able to slip back into the water under the light of a full moon. This time he was the one ignoring the department’s SOPs. The current was down, and he decided to make the dive without Jim. He eased his double tanks and gear into his own jon boat and motored out to the center pier. He secured the boat with a large anchor and a painter line tied to a ring in the pier. When the boat was secure, he assembled his kit, lowered the tanks over the side, and clipped them off to a tagline. He then eased into the water,