Deadly Currents Read Online Free PDF

awful.”
    Quintana pursed his lips as if debating whether to say something then shook his head. “She sounded more angry than sad. Said she was calling her lawyer.”
    “I don’t understand. Was she wondering about the will?”
    “No. Maybe you should warn your uncle. She said she was going to sue somebody.”

River guiding is a cowboy sort of job. Guides have inherited
the legacy of ruggedness and self-reliance once attributed
to mountain men and pioneers.
    — What the River Says , Jeff Wallach
    Questions whirled in Mandy’s head while she drove to her uncle’s combination home-and-business a few miles north of town. What did King’s widow hope to gain by suing Uncle Bill? Everyone signs a liability release agreement when they go whitewater rafting with a commercial outfitter. If King signed one, too, how could his widow win the case?
    She parked under the ancient cottonwood tree shading the small gravel car park beside the two-story wood-frame house. She got out and made a quick scan of the equipment in the back lot. The bus was still there, with two eight-passenger rafts tied to the top, instead of stowed in the storage shed where they belonged. But the thirteen-passenger van with its attached raft trailer was gone. So, a three- or four-raft trip had been planned and prepared for, but only one or two rafts had gone out, allowing all the customers and their guides to fit in the van.
    Not good.
    Mandy opened the front door that led into a customer check-in entryway, with company logo T-shirts and hats, sunglasses, and sunglass cords hanging on the wall for sale. She looked over the countertop, where those liability forms got signed, into her uncle’s small office on the other side. He sat at the cluttered desk, a phone pressed to his ear.
    He didn’t look happy.
    “But sir, I can’t give full refunds for last-minute cancellations. That’s clearly spelled out in our policies on the website and on the confirmation letter I sent you. I’ve already scheduled guides to work your trip.”
    Bill Tanner swiveled his barrel-shaped torso in his chair, saw Mandy, pointed at the phone and rolled his eyes. He rubbed his lined forehead with sausage-shaped fingers, then picked up his reading glasses to check his computer screen.
    She hiked herself up on the countertop to wait.
    As her uncle listened on the phone, his frown deepened. “No matter which outfitter you use, whitewater rafting is an inherently risky activity. If you check with the rangers at the Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area office, you’ll see our safety record is good—as good as any other outfitter’s.”
    He paused, tapping a pencil on his desk. “Yes, even with the recent death. We still don’t know the cause. It could very well have been a heart attack.”
    He listened some more and sighed. “This isn’t Disneyland. We can’t make guarantees because we don’t control the river. We just ride it.” Another pause. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, too. But with only one day’s notice, the best I can do is a fifty-percent refund. There’s sunk costs I can’t recoup. You’ll be missing out on a great run.”
    After a few more nods and um-hums and sips from the can of root beer on his desk, he finally hung up. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That’s the fourth cancellation today.”
    “I saw the bus didn’t go out,” Mandy said. “You get some no-shows this afternoon?”
    “Yeah. Then they had the nerve to call and ask for a refund. When I refused, they said they’d complain to the Headwaters office. Fat lot of good that’ll do them, but I’ve lost them as customers. They’ll never raft with me again.”
    “Rob came by this morning and warned me this might happen. At first, I didn’t believe him, but …”
    “Happens all the time. Folks can be skittish.” Uncle Bill pushed himself out of his chair with a grunt. “But enough of my problems, baby.”
    He gave her a hug. Then he stood back and looked