As Chris drifted with the current, he watched the lights on the New Slab, as he approached it. It appeared that someone had a fire built on the Slab, and was fishing off the down-river side. A truck was parked on the slab near by, with the radio turned way up, on a country music station.

The New Slab was actually a ma.s.sive solid concrete road that had been poured across the river. It had been built illegally, in the early '70's, by a coal mining company, to conveniently haul strip mined coal across the river to the coal washing plant. It had dozens of 5 foot diameter pipes laid through the concrete, to allow the water to pour through it when the river was normal. But in times of flood, the water rushed over the top of the ma.s.sive structure. When the strip mine went out of business, the Slab was abandoned there, to be used by locals to cross the river, fish off of, and to party on. (The reason this was called the 'New Slab', was because there was also an 'Old Slab' farther up river. It was built for the same reason, by a different coal company, back in the 1930's.) As he neared the Slab, he yelled out, "h.e.l.lo! I need some help here!" He thought the people on the Slab might help him out of the river, when the casket got to the structure, but for all his yelling, the people on the Slab didn't hear him until it was too late. Between the loud radio, and the roar of water rushing through the pipes, the noise was too great to hear his voice. And then another danger became evident: If the casket turned broadside against one of those ma.s.sive spillway pipes, the power of the river would rip it in half, and probably bang him up, dash him against the downstream rocks, and possibly drown him. He was going to have to do like he had seen canoers do, try to align his 'boat' so that it would flow straight through one of the pipes, and out the other side. So he began trying to steer, by dragging his hand in the water on one side or the other. As he approached one of the giant pipes, he was not perfectly straight, but close enough. He hunkered down in the casket, to endure what he knew was going to be a wild and violent ride.

The casket entered the pipe, but not straight, which caused him to bang side to side, as he went through. He just hoped the casket did not wedge sideways inside the pipe, or he would be trapped, and possibly drown. But he swooshed through so quickly that he was out the other side, and a hundred feet below it, before he realized it. Safely through, he raised up to look back at the astonished fishermen on the Slab. There was no way they could help him, so he just waved at them, as he was swept on down the river by the white water.

Chris didn't know where his brothers were, but he knew one thing. He was going to have to get out of the river on his own. And now there was a new concern, as he could feel cold water in the bottom of the casket. It was leaking! And why not, considering the rough obstacle course he had been through. He felt around in the dark, and found the styra-foam Dari-Delite cup his c.o.ke had been in, and used the cup to start bailing water out of the casket. He needed to stay afloat until he could reach shallow water somewhere. And from what he remembered about the river below the New Slab, there was such a place about a mile farther down, if he could make it that far. And tonight, there should be plenty of people there to help him.

Back up-stream, Joey was still following the river, looking for any sign of the casket or his brother. He was soaked with sweat, and scratched up from encounters in the dark with saw-toothed briars. He had also side-stepped a few snakes, and was lucky he had not stepped on one. He was starting to wonder if the casket might have sank in the river, and drowned Chris. This was going to be very hard to explain to his mom, or to his dad, when he got back from England. How could such a simple prank, go so badly wrong? The way it had happened was almost unbelievable, but he was learning a valuable lesson about life: If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong.

And on top everything else, now Cory's flashlight was starting to get weak. He would be in a bad situation, if his light went out. It would be too dangerous to be tromping through the river valley at night without a light. He just hoped that Cory and Calvin were able to find Chris, if he didn't, because he was starting to get the bad feeling that Chris could actually be dead. This thought spurred him on, to move faster. If Chris was out here, he had to find him.

Up ahead, he saw the glow of a small camp fire on the bank of the river, and he was grateful for the possibility for help. As he neared the camp, he saw two old men sitting in front of the fire, with their backs to him, so they had not seen him approach. Joey clicked off the dim flashlight, to conserve his batteries as he walked up.

"h.e.l.lo there!" he yelled. The response of the two men was not what he expected. They leaped up from the fire as though he had shot at them, and one yelled back, "W-who's there!" The other man picked up a shotgun and pointed it his way.

"Speak up, or I'll shoot!"

"My name is Joey Lee!

"What you doin' out here this time of the night, boy?"

"I'm looking for my brother! I think he's in the river. Have you seen him?"

The two geezers' mouths fell open, as they both gazed with owl-like eyes upon what they thought was a ghostly apparition from the river.

IT WAS THE DROWNED BOY, LOOKING FOR HIS KID BROTHER!.

They slowly backed away, never taking their eyes off Joey. Finally one of them could stand it no longer, and broke and ran for the truck. The other was right behind him, moving a lot faster than geezers should move. They jumped into the truck, started it, and the tires slung gravel and sand, as they tore out of there. They disappeared up the road, and didn't look back.

Joey was bewildered. What was wrong with them? They acted like they'd seen a ghost! Oh well. He walked into their empty camp and looked around. He picked up the shotgun from where the old man had dropped it. Yep! It's loaded. He took it over near the fire, and propped it up. What caused them to run away at the sight of me? Do I look that bad? He looked around for a flashlight he could borrow, to replace Cory's dead one. He was going to explain the situation, and try to borrow one, but since they had run out on him like that, and since this was kind of an emergency, he picked up one of the cap lights and turned it on. Oh yeah, that was much better! He shined it across the river, and was amazed at how well it worked. He immediately set out down the river with the fresh light.

Miranda stayed at the scene of Lennie's accident to wait on the police to arrive, because she knew they would want to question all the witnesses. They first examined Lennie's body, and determined that he was dead, and laid a sheet over him. Then they turned to the men who hit him, and gave the driver a breathalyzer test, to see if he was intoxicated. They questioned them extensively, and then turned to Miranda.

"Your name, please?"

"Miranda Monroe. I live right here."

"Did you witness the accident?"

"No sir. I was on my front porch, when I heard the screeching tires, and a thud. I thought someone had hit a deer, until I heard frantic voices, and I knew it was serious. I got in my car and drove up to my mailbox. I saw the truck sitting where it is now, with those two men standing in front of it. When I went to see what they had hit, my heart sank, because it was that r.e.t.a.r.ded man that lives down the road."

"Did you know him?"

"Sort of. I see him all the time, riding his bicycle up and down the road. Sometimes he stops and talks to me while I'm getting my mail. His name is Lennie Kellerman. He lives in that brick house down the road. The only house on the right side, coming this way."

"Anyone live there with him?"

"No, he lives alone. Just recently, I took Lennie to Birmingham to see a medical specialist, because he had no transportation but that bike. His family doctor recommended that he have an MRI."

"So you took him to Birmingham?"

"Yes, to UAB Medical Center."

"And you are not related to him?"

"No, from what I understand, Lennie had no family. That's why I offered to take him to the doctor."

"Do you know why he had to go to the doctor?"

"Yes, he openly told me that he had a brain tumor, and from what the doctors told him, there was nothing they could do about it."

"I see. How did he take the news?"

"It didn't seem to phase him, actually. Lennie was always so happy and care-free. He had the mentality of a big kid. Even after he told me about the tumor, he acted like it was nothing. He shrugged it off by saying, 'everybody dies from something', which I thought was a very mature way of looking at it."

"Do you know why he was out on his bike tonight?"

"No, but he often rides his bike up and down this road, both day and night. There usually isn't much traffic, so it is usually safe."

"The other witnesses said he seemed to be coming out of that next driveway. Who lives up that driveway?"

"Uh, I think it is Mr. and Mrs. Rosewood. You know, the Federal Judge."

"Oh, Leon Rosewood, the Judge! I knew he lived up the road here somewhere. So I guess I need to go knock on his door to see what he knows, since the victim appeared to be coming out of his driveway. Is there anything else you can tell me about Mr. Kellerman?"

"Well, in spite of his r.e.t.a.r.dation, he was a really nice person. I took him out to lunch once, and to breakfast another time, just because he didn't seem to have any friends. I felt sorry for him. He said people made fun of him all his life, because of the way he looked, and the way he talked, and the fact that he was different. But sometimes he had a dark side. He would talk about strange things, and off-the-wall stuff. I just wrote it off as being the effects of his brain tumor. Sometimes he behaved irrationally. Sometimes he would get really angry for no good reason, and times like that, he scared me."

"Explain his irrational behavior."

"Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but sometimes he behaved scared and nervous, and thought people were out to get him. Of course, no one was out to get him, but you couldn't convince him of that. The same people who were making fun of him, were the ones who were out to get him."

"That's interesting," the officer said, as he made notes in his pad. "Tell me, did he ever show signs of wanting to commit suicide? Especially after he found out he had the brain tumor?"

"Well, he did say that if he died, he would get to see his mother and father again, and all his friends and family members who were already up in Heaven. He seemed pleased by that thought."

"But did he ever say that he was considering suicide?"

"Not in so many words, but he did say that he thought he would be better off in Heaven, if you could interpret that as being suicidal."

"Okay." The officer noted this. "When was the last time you saw him alive?"

"I saw him earlier today. I was coming home from Wal-Mart, and saw him riding his bike down the road. That was one, or two in the afternoon."

"In your opinion, was the truck that hit Mr. Kellerman speeding at the time of the accident?"

"I can't say. I mean, I can't see the highway from my house, and I didn't pay any attention to the sound of them pa.s.sing, until I heard the brakes screech."

"Is there anything else you can remember?"

"No, I've told you what I saw, which wasn't much. I just hate that such a thing happened to a nice person like Lennie. He had the mentality of a child, and it seems so unfair. I know I'm going to cry later, even though I didn't know him well."

"Okay, Mrs. Monroe. Thank you for your time. You said Judge Rosewood lives next door?"

"Yes."

"Have a good evening."

Miranda breathed a big sigh of relief, as she drove back home. Her first encounter with the police was over, and she thought she handled it just fine. She did not panic, and did not raise suspicions. That was good. She tried to behave like anyone would in a similar situation.

But she breathed the biggest sigh of relief when she realized that now she was basically home free. Whether or not Lennie deliberately steered into that truck was not her main concern right now, only that he was now incapable of unintentionally betraying her to the police. She had dropped enough crumbs of evidence that would point toward Lennie, how could the police suspect anyone else?

It made her nervous that the police were going to the Judge's house, but what would they find to suspect anything? All the evidence had been removed. How could they think anything other than they were simply not at home?

But then, as she was about to get out of her car, a thought stung her. The Judge's wallet! I planted it on Lennie. That was stupid, because they will find it, and now they will suspect that something might have happened to the Judge! Instead of no one missing the Judge until his wife returns from Europe, now they will suspect something starting today!

Suddenly, planting the wallet on Lennie didn't seem like such a brilliant idea. And another thing, genius, did you leave your fingerprints on the wallet? She did not have her gloves on when she planted it. This thought made her uneasy. There could be no plausible reason for her fingerprints to be found on the Judge's wallet. For a fleeting moment, she considered going back to Lennie's body and trying to retrieve the wallet, but now it would be too risky. What was done, was done. She just hoped that nothing pointed back to her.

She had another disturbing thought. Did Lennie keep a diary? If so, he might have wrote down all about her cutting up the judge and burying him under her pool. Did he ever say anything about keeping a diary? I don't think so, but can I afford to take that chance? I know the police are going to search his house. Maybe I should go search his house before they do?

She got out of her car and went into her house. What should I do? She went out back, to admire her new swimming pool, and remembered that it was time to start filling the pool, so she rolled out the garden hose, and dropped it into her pool, then turned it on full blast. She noted how insignificant the small amount of water seemed in the big pool. This was going to take days to fill. As it filled, she nervously paced back and forth. If I'm going to do it, I need to do it tonight, because the police will probably search Lennie's house tomorrow. When they can't find the judge tonight, they probably won't think much of it. No evidence of foul play at his house, and that could mean nothing more than Lennie just found the judge's wallet on the side of the road. They would try to contact the judge, of course, to return the wallet, but it shouldn't alarm them that they can't find him. Therefore, tonight is the perfect time to go search Lennie's house, just to give myself some peace of mind. Yes, that's what I'll do.

She was already wearing her dark clothes that she had wore to the judge's house, but she went to get her latex gloves and shoved them in the pocket of her tight fitting jeans. She would not risk driving to Lennie's house, and letting someone see her car there. No, Lennie lived within a half mile from her, so she would take her flashlight and slip down the road, keeping to the woods, in case she saw a car. Like a cat-burglar, she would check out Lennie's house for possible incriminating evidence.

Calvin thought he was going to jail too, but he was surprised when one of the officers told him that they would be dropping him off at his house, on the way to Arlington.

"You mean I'm not being arrested too?"

"What for? There are no charges against you. Were you driving the car?"

"No sir."

"Were drugs or alcohol involved?"

"No sir."

"Then you were just at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person. There is no law against that. Besides, I know your Dad. I know you are basically a good kid, so I'm letting you off easy!"

Cory was incensed. "You know my Dad too! Can't you let me go?"

"No. We clocked you doing 80 in a 35 mph zone. No, you are going to jail. We can probably release you to the custody of your dad, but we have to book you first."

"But then I'll have a criminal record!"

"Not a criminal record, but a strike against you on moving violations."

"What if I told you that I learned my lesson, and that I'll never speed again?"

"You will probably remember that a lot better if it is emphasized by your dad! That's always been my feeling. I'm sure your dad will have some way of occasionally reminding you that you screwed up. Besides, it's the law. We are bound to arresting you in this circ.u.mstance."

"My driveway is the next one on the right," Calvin reminded them, in case they forgot the address. Cory shot him a daggered look. The car pulled over, and Calvin got out. "See you later, Cory!" Cory did not reply, but he could imagine what was going through his mind.

He started walking toward his house, past his grand-parents house. Their house was dark, and they were already asleep. Old folks went to roost with the birds.

Calvin wondered what he was going to tell his mom. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, was not going to play well. It was going to be hard to put a positive spin on the night's events, no matter how he worded it. He reviewed the facts: 1)Chris is missing, and possibly dead.

2)Joey is stumbling down the river bank in the dark, dodging poisonous snakes, as he searches the river for Chris' body.

3)Cory has been arrested, and is on the way to jail.

4)And oh yeah, Dad's casket is destroyed!

No, he didn't really want to go home right now, and have to tell his mom what had really happened, and on such short notice. He wasn't real good at improvising plausible excuses on the spur-of-the-moment.

What he needed was a ride to at least go back and pick up Joey somewhere down river. But who could he get? His grand-dad might do it, but he was already asleep. He didn't know any other friends that lived close by, and had a truck, and would be willing to get out and do such a thing. Most of the kids his age were down at the Presbyterian Retreat listening to ghost stories, . . . where they were supposed to be!

His dad's truck was parked in the back yard, but who would drive it? Well he could drive it, because his dad had taught him, by letting him drive it down to the fields and back. But it was a whole different story, getting out on the highway. He had no license, no insurance, and after seeing what just happened to Cory, he was in no hurry to get on the road. But the fact was, the only option that met all his criteria, was for him to try to slip out of the yard with his dad's truck, and go get his brothers. Yes, he knew the risks, but he was down to very few options. He wondered what his dad would do in a similar situation, and he came back with the answer.

The first problem was getting to the truck. Their black lab, Annie, was a good watch dog. When he neared the house, he knew that she was going to bark, and sound the alarm that someone was there. He had to slip up and let Annie know it was him, without her barking first. That was going to be the trick. He saw the porch light on at his house, and the living room light, and Rebecca's light as well, so that told him where everyone was in the house. He had no idea where Annie was. She could be anywhere. Calvin walked on the gra.s.s beside the driveway, to avoid the crunch of the gravel. In the moonlight, so he could see around the yard very well. He was very close to the house when Annie suddenly bounded around the end of the house with a large bone in her mouth, but she stopped, no doubt because she smelled him.

"Here, Annie! Here, girl!" he said, as quietly as he could. Annie 'ruffed', but it was a m.u.f.fled ruff, because her mouth was full. By the time she dropped the bone, Calvin had convinced her that it was really him, and she came foreword to lick him endlessly. Having successfully quieted their alert system, Calvin walked around back, to check out the truck, with Annie bounding at his heels. The truck was there, and the key was in it, as usual. The only problem was, his mom, or Rebecca hearing it start up. He had to get it away from the house before starting it. And that was possible, because it was basically level ground from where the truck sat, to where the driveway sloped toward the highway, a quarter mile away. If he could roll it 50 feet or so in silence, then he could jump in and coast down the driveway far enough that he could start the engine without being heard. He went to the barn and got a piece of 2x4 wood, long enough to wedge between the clutch peddle, and the seat, so that he could roll it. He got behind the truck, and struggled to get it moving, which was a feat for Calvin, the smallest of the Lee Clan. But once it got started moving, it rolled well, and began to pick up momentum, until it got to a point where he decided it would roll on its own. Then he ran around and jumped into the driver's seat, and tried to steer the truck down the driveway, but the steering wheel was locked. He barely got the switch on, and the steering wheel unlocked in time to steer away from the ditch, and down the driveway he went, silently, and with no lights on. He let it roll until it stopped, but that was far enough away to start the engine. He left the lights off until he reached the highway, then let the clutch out, and lurched onto the highway, heading for the river.

Calvin couldn't have exceeded the speed limit if he wanted to, because he was scared to death. He had never driven on the highway before, so he was leaving it in second gear, and taking his time. As he got more comfortable, he shifted to third gear, but didn't get over 35. The first vehicle he pa.s.sed, he was sure was going to be a police car, but it wasn't. The pa.s.sing car did blow its horn at him though, because he forgot to dim his headlights. By the time he got to Turkey Ridge, and came down the other side, he had pa.s.sed a few more cars, and was feeling more confident. He was no Mario Andretti, but he was pleased that he was driving like a grown-up.

The first place he went on the river was the New Slab, because he reasoned that anything as big as a casket floating down the river had to get caught at the Slab. As he got within sight of the Slab, he was encouraged, because he saw lights on the structure. He parked the truck on the side of the road, and ran out on the Slab. There was a truck there, with its tailgate down. He didn't recognize the two people fishing off the down-river side, but folks usually were reasonably hospitable on the river. He walked out to talk to them, carrying his dad's flashlight with him. As he neared them his suspicions were confirmed. They were total strangers, but they looked un-menacing. It was a 50-something year old man, and a woman, most likely his wife, sitting in lawn chairs beside a cooler full of beer, as they watched over a half dozen fishing poles they had propped up and trolling in the water. A small campfire illuminated their faces, and the shiney beer cans as he approached.

"Catching anything?" he asked, as he walked up to them.

"Very little. Mostly just enjoying the river."

"That's good," Calvin said, looking up the river, then down.

"I'd offer you a beer, but you look to be a mite young."

"Thanks anyway."

"You looking for something, son?"

"Well, yeah, I was supposed to pick up my brother here. He's coming down the river."

"In a boat?"