Free Among the Missing by Richard Laymon Page B

A-positive blood."
    "That's how it looks. If you get a suspect, we can pin him down with a DNA analysis."
    "Right. Was there anything else?"
    "That's about it. We'll send over a written report, of course."
    "Thank you very much."
    "Pleasure's mine."

Chapter Thirteen
    Indian Point
    Rusty didn't hurry. He drove at normal speed to the Indian Point turn-off, made the left rum, and took his time steering up the twisty, narrow road. At the top, he drove across the paved parking area toward the low stone parapet in front of the cliff. He passed five parked vehicles: two camper vans, a Jeep, a Toyota and a gray Chevy pick-up truck. The Chevy's license plate was the one he'd seen at the Sweet Meadow roadhead. Trink's mother had been right.
    He saw half a dozen people. Three of them, a father and his sons, were taking turns viewing Silver Lake through a pay telescope. A pair of lovers stood facing the lake, arms around each other's shoulders. A lone man sat on the parapet, facing the parking lot as he bit into a sandwich. Trink and Bill were nowhere to be seen.
    Rusty parked beside their pick-up and climbed out of his patrol car. He looked into the bed of the truck. No Trink, no Bill, only a couple of filthy, rumpled blankets. He glanced at his wristwatch.
    Pac should be getting here pretty soon, but she might not arrive for another five or ten minutes.
    "You're Sheriff Hodges," said the man with the sandwich. The wind off the lake blew his white hair forward. He fingered a few strands out of the corner of his mouth and kept on chewing. "Voted for you."
    "Thanks. I appreciate it."
    "Tough but fair, that's how I like 'em. Up here on a case?"
    "That's right." He stepped over to the man and shook his hand.
    "I'm Voss. Harry Voss."
    "Good to meet you, Harry."
    "Same here. You like it up here?"
    "As long as I don't get too close to that ledge. A mighty long way down to the lake."
    "Did you know the Washoes used to fling their chiefs off the cliff here?"
    "I hope they were dead first."
    "Oh, yes." The old man laughed. "I reckon they were dead, all right. Know how come they'd get the old heave-ho?"
    "Not off hand. If I ever heard, I've forgotten."
    "Water's a thousand feet deep right off the point here. Over a thousand feet deep. Know how cold it gets down there?"
    "Pretty cold, I imagine."
    "Awful cold. Down in the thirties. Near freezing. A hundred years, those old chiefs are as fresh as the day they died. That's sure something, huh?"
    "Sure is," Rusty said.
    "And they stay down there, too. Never come up. Never. Being an officer of the law, you can probably figure out how come that is."
    "Right. If they aren't decomposing, there's no gas build-up. No gas in the bodies, they stay down."
    "You nailed it right on the button there, Sheriff. Glad I voted for you."
    "Now I have a question for you, Harry. If the chiefs never come up to the surface, how are you so sure they've stayed so fresh and nice?"
    "Oh, now and again one of 'em washes up. Changes in the current, mostly."
    "That hasn't happened recently, has it?"
    "Last I recall it happening was some thirty years back. That would've been around sixty-seven, sixty-eight, around that time. Sure had the sheriff going. That was Sheriff Rawls, back then. He thought sure he had a homicide on his hands. You eat yet? I've got another sandwich here." He flicked a finger against the top of a grocery bag resting between his feet. "Turkey, lettuce, and mayo on Wonder Bread."
    "Thanks, Harry, but I'll have to turn you down on that. I just finished my lunch."
    "Suit yourself. More for me. Can't get enough of that Wonder Bread. Must be the softest bread they've ever made, don't you think so?"
    "It's nice and soft," Rusty said.
    "Stays that way, too. Stays that way a long time. Nice and fresh, like those chiefs they threw in the lake. Know what I think, Sheriff? When my time comes, I wouldn't mind going off the edge here. Suppose I might get that arranged?"
    Rusty thought about the lake's strict pollution