Among the Missing Read Online Free PDF Page A

trail. When they reached the bottom, trees no longer blocked the way and Rusty noticed a shape on the sand near the shore.
    Even from this distance, he could tell that it was a naked woman. He could tell that she was dead, too. She looked all wrong. Her skin color was off. The positioning of her body looked awkward and unnatural. Even her shape looked strange and off kilter, though he couldn't really see from here that her head was gone.
    "Where were you standing when you first saw the two of them?" Rusty asked.
    "Just about here, I guess."
    He glanced at his notes. "You said the man was a Caucasian, about thirty, five-eleven, a hundred and sixty pounds, and bald. Did he wear glasses?"
    "No."
    "Any physical irregularities? Did he limp? Have a scar? Any tattoos?"
    "No, I don't think so. Not that I noticed."
    They walked closer to the body.
    "What about his voice? Did he speak with an accent?"
    "Nothing foreign or anything. I mean, he sounded like he could be from around here. But all he said was 'Stay back.' "
    Rust could now make out details of the woman's body.
    It looked as if it had been a very fine body.
    By the blue tint of her skin, he figured that she must've died by suffocation. Either she'd drowned or had been strangled. By her proximity to the river, death by drowning seemed likely.
    Rusty looked at Bass.
    The young man was gazing at her, a sickish look on his face.
    "So after the man ran into the river with her head, did you come over and take a closer look at her?"
    He nodded slightly.
    "Did you touch her?"
    "Touch her? No. Are you kidding? Why would I . . . ? No, I sure didn't."
    "So she was in exactly this position when you found her?"
    "Yeah."
    "You didn't touch anything!"
    "No."
    "Okay. Just asking. I need to make sure everything's just the way you found it."
    "Exactly the same. I mean, I know you're not supposed to fool with a crime scene."
    "What about Faye?"
    Turning slightly, Bass pointed. "She was over there barfing her guts out."
    "So she didn't touch anything either?"
    "No. Huh-uh."
    "Good. Now, why don't you wait here?"
    Rusty walked alone toward the body, moving his eyes carefully over the area near it. Slowly, he circled it. Then he approached, knelt down, and studied the neck stump. Flies were already on it. Though he started feeling nauseous, he stayed on his knees and refused to look away.
    The spinal column looked as if it had been neatly severed with a fine-toothed saw.
    Feeling more woosy than ever, Rusty realized he was holding his breath.
    He scurried backward, got to his feet, and breathed again. Turning to Bass, he asked, "Where did the man enter the river?"
    Bass pointed. "About there."
    Unwrapping a cigar, Rusty walked over to the shore. "He was running?"
    "Yeah."
    Rusty stuffed the cellophane wrapper into his pocket. Then he bit off the end of his cigar and spat it out. "He entered about here?"
    "That's right."
    "What kind of stroke did he use?"
    "Stroke?"
    Rusty struck a match. Cupping it against the breeze, he sucked the flame into his cigar. He took a few puffs. "How did he swim? Breaststroke, sidestroke, crawl?"
    "He was carrying her head."
    "How'd he swim?"
    "It was a sidestroke, I guess."
    "He carried the head in one hand?"
    "Sort of clutched against his chest. You know, like a football."
    "Was the other hand free?"
    Bass nodded. "I guess so."
    "How long did you watch him?"
    "Till he got across. I kept thinking I should chase him, but Faye wouldn't let go of me. And I didn't want to leave her alone."
    "Just as well. You might've ended up as dead as that woman."
    "Maybe."
    "Did you see him get out on the other side?"
    "Yeah."
    "Was he still carrying her head?"
    "Sure was."

Chapter Four
    The Deputy
    Deputy Mary Hodges, known from childhood as the Pac or just Pac because of her father's allegiance to his native Green Bay football heros, had never been accused of looking like a fullback. At five foot eleven, she didn't look much like a gymnast, either. Not until you saw her on the