Im fine, I say with more confidence than I feel. Shes over there. I point to the maple tree. Just over the ridge, in the water.
Stay here, he orders. I pretend I dont understand him and follow him up the incline, both of us grabbing onto low-hanging branches to avoid slipping on the slick decaying leaves that litter the ground. When we reach the crest my eyes immediately go to where Gwens body sways with the gentle current. Officer Wagners head swivels from left to right, searching. When his spine goes rigid I know he finally sees her. He gropes into his pocket and pulls out a cell phone and presses it to his ear.
I bend at the waist, again light-headed. I was an ER nurse for eighteen-odd years. Ive seen people come in with injuries beyond comprehension. Ive seen dead bodies before, have had people die from catastrophic injuries in my care. But always at the hospital, in a sterile, antiseptic setting.
I force myself to stand upright and take a deep breath. I feel useless. If there was a chance Gwen was still breathing I could have given her CPR, but its clear that shes dead. Gwen is a bit younger than I am, and shes fithas the slim physique of a serious runner. Was she running or hiking the trails and then waylaid by a predator who dragged her off the path, raped and then killed her, finally tossing her into the river like trash?
From our vantage point, I cant see any obvious injuries. No bullet holes, no gaping wounds, no scavengers have discovered her. She cant have been in the river long. I think of the waves that knocked Stitch off my paddleboard and sent me to my knees just before I found Gwens body. I wish I saw what the boat looked like. I wish I had more information to offer the police. I wonder if her husband, Marty, has missed her yet. Or worse, could he have been the one to do this? I dont know him well, but I met him several times. Gwen never mentioned having any problems in their marriage and he seemed like a nice man. And then there is their daughter, Lane. She will be devastated when she learns that her mother is never coming back home.
I swallow back my tears, pull my eyes from the body and scan the earth around me. Muddy footprints everywhere. I think I can discern three different shoe treads. Most likely my own and the DNR officers, and possibly the killers. There are also the imprints of Stitchs large paws zigzagging the ground chronicling his agitation. Off in the brush is a discarded glass beer bottle. It could have belonged to one of the ever-growing number of weekend warriors who have discovered this length of river due to the opening of Five Mines Outfitters, located right next door to my house. The outfitter offers an array of outdoor services including canoe, kayak, paddleboard and in the winter, snowshoe and ice skate rentals.
Below us Stitch waits, wiggling impatiently while somehow remaining in a seated position. I gesture for him to settle and stay and he complies. Officer Wagner tugs on my sleeve and nods toward the woods below us. Emerging from the trees is a small troupe of four-wheelers. Unable to contain himself, Stitch leaps to his feet and begins to spin around in excitement.
Five of the six people on the ATVs are law enforcement officers, including Jake. The lone civilian I recognize as my new neighbor, the proprietor of Five Mines Outfitters. Weve never officially met, but I hate him anyway. The day he opened his business he brought a steady stream of unwanted strangers into my backyard, disrupting my solitude. The four-wheelers most likely belong to my neighbor and the Mathias Police Department commandeered them and asked him to lead the way through the woods so they could get to the scene as quickly as possible. Jake and the four other officers slide from their ATVs and begin to move toward us, leaving my neighbor behind.
Stitch knows Jake so he greets him with an enthusiastic wag of his bottle brush tail and attaches himself to Jakes side. When the officers reach the bottom of the bluff, Jake says something to the group and they remain below as he and Stitch make the short climb to where Officer Wagner and I wait.
Jake still has the same boyish good looks that he did thirty years ago. Seeing him in his detectives uniform of a suit and tie makes me smile at the incongruity of how I remember him as a kid. He was a constant at our house, preferring ours to his own. His father was volatile, unpredictable, mean. Daily, hed show up with his mussed sandy-brown hair, smelling of fresh cut grass and bubble gum, dressed in grubby jeans, scuffed tennis shoes and a purple-and-gold Minnesota Vikings T-shirt in search of my brother.
Jakes normally cheerful face is now set in rigid seriousness and hes oblivious to the mud that has caked his dress shoes and splattered onto his suit pants. Hes not even out of breath when he reaches us, a testament to the great physical shape hes in. Instead of first asking where the victim is, he eyes me up and down. He winces at the sight of my bloodstained shirt, extends the index finger of both his hands and brings them toward each other, the right hand twisting one way and the left hand the other, making the ASL sign for hurt.
I tripped, I explain, holding up my hands. It looks worse than it is. He takes my hands in his and turns them over to examine my cut and scraped palms. His grasp is warm against my chilled fingers and I realize just how cold I am.
Her name is Gwen Locke. I know her. We worked together. Shes been to my house, I say. Ive been to hers.
Jake looks surprised but doesnt ask me if Im sure of the womans identity. He releases my hands, and I immediately miss his warmth. He turns his attention to the DNR officer. Wagner points to the water, and a muscle in Jakes jaw twitches and once again he becomes all business.
Go back down by your paddleboard, he signs. We have to seal off this area. Ill be right down to take your statement and Officer Snell will make sure you get home safely. I nod, and Jake gives me a wisp of a smile as if to let me know that everything will be all right. I want to believe him.
Officer Snell, with his closely cropped hair and smattering of acne across his forehead, looks to be barely out of his teens. Hes waiting, pen and pad already in hand by the time I reach him. Cold has seeped through my pants, still damp from wading through the water and from my tumble to the ground and I begin to shiver.
Just a few questions, maam, Snell begins, but I quickly lose the thread and stop him.
Maybe we should wait for Jake. Detective Schroeder, I amend. He knows sign. Officer Snell nods his understanding and we stand around awkwardly until Jake makes his way down to us.
Jake knows how to talk to me. Not only does he know sign, he looks me right in the eye and keeps his sentences short. I answer out loud while Snell writes down my answers. He covers all the expected questions: name, address, phone number, age.
You say you know her? Jake signs.
I nod. Her name is Gwen Locke. Shes a county sexual assault nurse and last I knew was a nurse at Queen of Peace and Mathias Regional. I try to keep one eye on Stitch who grows bored and wanders away. His attention is on a black squirrel that looks curiously down from a tree branch at the drama unfolding before him.
Do you have any contact information for her? Know her next of kin? Jake signs as Snell flips his notebook to an empty page.
I havent used the phone number I have for Gwen in almost two years. After my accident she reached out to me, came by the hospital and to the house to visit but I refused to talk to her. To anyone. Her husbands name is Marty and she has a daughter named Lane. She grew up here. I pull out my phone and find Gwens number. Snell adds it to his growing list of notes.
I havent used the phone number I have for Gwen in almost two years. After my accident she reached out to me, came by the hospital and to the house to visit but I refused to talk to her. To anyone. Her husbands name is Marty and she has a daughter named Lane. She grew up here. I pull out my phone and find Gwens number. Snell adds it to his growing list of notes.
Jake has me take him, step by step, through my morning right up until Stitch discovered Gwen in the river. Beyond his shoulder I see Stitch wander toward my neighbor who is waiting next to a four-wheeler, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. He bends down to scratch Stitchs ear. Stitch, Ke mne! I call. Ke mne is Czech for come and pronounced as khemn yea. Stitch leisurely trots back to my side. Stitchs trainer, Vilem, who is originally from Prague, trained all of his police and rescue dogs using Czech commands, including Stitch and Jakes K-9.
Jake shifts so that his face is once again in front of mine. You going to be okay? he asks. Do you want me to call someone for you?
Thats when I realize Im late for my interview with Dr. Huntley. Ive forgotten all about it.
Oh, shit! I say. I check my watch. Its close to ten thirty. Im already a half an hour late. By the time I get home, cleaned up and to the clinic Ill be well over two hours late. I tell Jake about the interview and that I have to get home.
Sorry, he signs. Officer Snell will get you home as soon as possible. Youll have to come to the police station at some point and well have you sit down with a certified interpreter to take your official statement. Ill check in with you later. Then he moves back up the bluff toward Gwens body.
I check my phone and find two texts from Dr. Huntleys office manager. The first reading, Dr. Huntley is running behind schedule and will be about thirty minutes late for your interview.
For a moment Im hopeful that Ill still be able to get to the clinic in time to catch him but then I read the second message and my stomach sinks. Dr. Huntley has to leave for another appointment. He will contact you if hed like to reschedule. Great. The professional equivalent of dont call me, Ill call you.
Theres a third text from David. Its only one word but it speaks volumes.
Typical.
3
Jake orders me not to share any details about my discovery with anyone so I send a text to Dr. Huntleys office manager, apologizing for my absence. I explain that I have a good reason for missing the interview and that I will tell her all about it later. My fingers itch to respond to Davids smart-ass text with something equally snarky, but my attorney, Amanda, has advised me to keep all my communications with David cordial so I shove my phone into my pocket before I change my mind.
Because Im not Noras biological mother I have absolutely zero rights when it comes to custody or visitation. If and when I get to see Nora is completely in Davids hands.
I clearly remember the day, even though I was completely sloshed, that David finally had enough. He had come home from his shift at the hospital and found me sitting on the floor of our bedroom with a bottle of Smirnoff and my coffee mug with Cute enough to stop your heart and skilled enough to restart it written across the side. A Valentines Day gift from David. I couldnt be that bad off if I was still using a glass. At least I wasnt chugging directly from the bottle, never mind that I was holed up in my bedroom with the shades drawn, lights off, drinking vodka and watching closed captioned episodes of Judge Judy at four in the afternoon on a Tuesday.
Of course I didnt hear David come into the room, but once he turned on the light and I saw the look on his face I knew things were bad. You forgot to pick up Nora, he said, pointing to his watch as I rolled the Smirnoff beneath the bed.
Sorry, was all I could offer. Ill go get her now. I got unsteadily to my feet. My face felt numb and I almost didnt care that I couldnt actually hear what David was saying.
No, Amelia, you wont. You cant get in a car and drive like this. I couldnt stand seeing the anger, the disappointment in his eyes, so I averted mine. David grabbed my chin. Not hard, but firmly, so that I couldnt help but look at him. You will never drive with Nora again. Do you understand?
You cant tell me what I can and cant do, I said, my chin still cupped in his hand. I remember actually being glad that his hand was there, I was having trouble keeping my head steady. I kept wanting to lie down, close my eyes.
I can and I will, David said through clenched teeth, making it difficult for me to read his lips. I en an I ill, it looked like he was saying, and for some reason this struck me as funny and I started to laugh.
Dammit, Amelia! David said, his fingers now digging into my cheeks so hard that tears sprang into my eyes. You will not get into a car with my daughter. If you do, Ill call the police, I swear, I will. Once you sober up, I want you out. Out of my house. Do you understand? Davids face was pale and he was nearly vibrating with rage.
I wrenched away from his grasp, the half-filled mug still in my hands. Now Noras your daughter? I knew you would do this, I spat. I knew you could never deal with me being deaf. Im not your perfect little wife anymore so youre going to just throw me away, I slurred.
Im not doing this because youre deaf, Amelia. Im doing this because you are a fucking drunk. This I understood. No need for my husband to repeat these words. I read his lips perfectly.
The mug was out of my hand before I even realized that I had thrown it. The mug struck the wall, exploding into shards just as Nora came into the room. Vodka sprayed in all directions. Noras mouth made a perfect O as she clamped her hands over her ears and then ran from the room. David gave me a look filled with pure hate and rushed after her.
Trista wasnt perfect, either, was she? You ran her off too! I shouted. No wonder she got as far away from you as possible. I slammed the door, locked it, and with shaking hands I rooted around beneath the bed in search of the bottle of vodka. When my fingers found the cool smooth glass, I sat with my back against the wall, the carpet wet beneath me, and drank until the tremors slowly subsided.
Officer Snell tugs on my sleeve and points to an opening in the trail. The EMTs arrive in a six-wheeled contraption thats a cross between an ATV and a short bed truck. It has a yellow stretcher strapped to the back and I realize that this is how they plan to transport the body out of here. Its not enough that Gwen has been found murdered, nude and dumped like refuse into the river, now she has to be unceremoniously hauled out of here by a mud-splattered OHVoff-highway vehicle. I know my irritation is misplaced. This isnt the first time that a body has been found in a rural, hard-to-get-to spot but usually its due to a hunting accident or a drowning or someone collapsing on the trail, not murder.
I decline the offer from an EMT to tend to my hands even though they are still oozing blood and sting. Officer Snell is deep in conversation with my new neighbor so I find a rock to sit on while Stitch explores the muddy banks. I take this opportunity to survey the man who moved into the cabin next to my home. The two-story luxury stone-and-log home with its wide windows and wraparound decking puts my ragtag cabin to shame. The previous owners lost the home to foreclosure and it sat empty for the last three years. My new neighbor bought the property at the beginning of summer and opened Five Mines Outfitters. Now my once quiet road has a regular flow of traffic. Even worse, my stretch of river and the trails that have been my safe haven have been invaded by strangers. To be fair, were not exactly next-door neighbors, either. The outfitters is settled nearly out of sight behind thick foliage atop a bluff and well above the river, safe from any flooding while my somewhat shabby A-frame sits dangerously close to the rivers edge and is one heavy rain away from being swept into Five Mines by floodwaters.