Ghost River Jon Coon (free reads TXT) 📖

cushioned wicker chair and nodded as Peterson handed him a tea bag and poured the water. “I was hoping you could tell me about the old bridge. It’s a mess down there. It’s covered in a web of shaped charges and electric blasting caps. None of that stuff should have ever gone into the water. And it certainly shouldn’t be there now. What on earth happened?”

Peterson studied Gabe for a moment before answering. He sipped his tea and stared intently over the top of the china cup. “We finished the new bridge under budget and on time in 2003. Then we put out the contract to remove the old steel bridge with its lift span, twin towers, huge counterweights, and stone piers. She was a real beauty, built in 1919. I have pictures around here somewhere. I loved those old steel bridges. It took real engineering to put them up.” He paused to remove the tea bag from his cup, add sugar, stir, blow, and sip.

“You were saying,” Gabe prompted.

“Yes, well there was trouble from the day the demolition crew started. Almost like the old bridge was fighting back, refusing to die. A worker fell. A work barge and crane sank and had to be raised. But the worst was when the lift span collapsed. It was a Sunday morning. None of the crew on site, thank God. Thing just fell in. Demo contractor had done the prep work and set the charges. Standard operation. But the lift span collapsed the day before they were going to shoot it. The torch work must have been badly engineered or executed.”

“Anyone hurt?” Gabe asked.

“Not then, but of course we needed an inspection right away. Called in the state inspection team with video, but the water was so dirty you couldn’t see anything. One of their divers disappeared. Got swept away in the current. Don’t think the body was ever recovered.” He paused again, added two heaping spoons of sugar to his cup, tested the temperature, and then sipped before he nodded his approval. His gaze wandered. He shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair before he continued.

“I knew leaving before the job was done wasn’t the best call, but at the time it looked like the only safe choice. The water was deep enough that the steel wasn’t going to be a problem for boat traffic, and without electric current, the explosives couldn’t be detonated, so we just walked away. I left orders only my divers would do the inspections. They were familiar with the dangers. But I saw on the news you lost a teammate. He was looking for that missing girl, right? Just what we were afraid of. I’m so sorry, but there was good reason to keep other divers off the site. Will you continue searching for that girl?”

“Yes, sir. The girl and other things. No choice now.”

“Well you know the risks. I hope it’s worth it.” He placed his cup carefully in the saucer, then looked back at Gabe. “Did you know that police captain who was murdered yesterday? I saw it on the news. Tragic.”

“He was my boss. A good man who will be missed. He was with the department a long time. You might have known him. Captain Brady?”

Peterson ran an arthritically gnarled index finger around the rim of his tea cup, thinking, “Don’t think so. But my memory . . . He was shot, wasn’t he? Any idea why?”

“We’re wondering if it had anything to do with those bridges. Haven’t got a clue at this point, but there’s a problem with the new bridge. Footings are badly scoured out. Piers are just hanging from the span. Inspections should have caught that, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. I’ll let Tallahassee know what you’ve found as soon as we’re done here.”

“I turned in a report the next morning. They should be on it by now. But if you could let me know what you hear, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll be happy to. Is there anything else?” Peterson was getting edgy.

“Yes, just one more thing. I was wondering whether or not there were regular reports? Someone should have caught this.” Gabe noticed a tremor in Peterson’s hands. Now the old man held his teacup with both hands.

“As I said, it’s been years since I’ve looked at those reports. But you’re right. That’s serious. Let me see what I can find out for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Gabe said. “Just trying to keep the surprises to a minimum. You know, in this business, surprises get you killed.”

“That’s a good thing to keep in mind, officer, a very good thing indeed.” Peterson was staring hard, and the tone of his voice became brittle. Gabe stood up from the table and extended his hand to Peterson, but the old man’s hands were shaking so severely Gabe dropped his arm and merely nodded his thanks.

As Gabe walked down the marble steps to his truck, he looked back over his shoulder and saw the old man on a cell phone. Peterson talked for a moment and then slammed his fist on the table, sending the teacups flying. Gabe heard the glass shatter and saw Peterson spin the electric wheelchair back toward the massive front doors. As Gabe eased his truck down the drive, he wondered, you old fox, what are you hiding?

Early the next morning, with no rain and the current down somewhat, the full team and the brass gathered at the river. Gabe and Randy Lomis, one of the explosive ordinance disposal divers from Nick’s team, prepared to make the first dive. Like Nick, Lomis was every bit a Navy diver. Tall, lean, attentive. All business. Gabe was glad to have him stand in for Nick.

Apparently Captain Brady had not shared his intent to shut down the operation with the commander, as he had intended, so it was business as usual. In the morning briefing, the divers were instructed to finish the recovery of the shaped charges before looking for Charlie’s body. Gabe said nothing about having found Charlie,