Free Dead Float by Warren C Easley

one more time. Suddenly he bent down and pointed at something in the grass. “Looks like I missed something this morning.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œA cigarette butt. Can I pick it up?”
    I hesitated for a moment. It was physical evidence, but the area had already been searched and cleared. “Yeah, go ahead. They can get a DNA profile from the urine sample.”
    Philip picked it up and put his nose to it. “Jeez, smells like camel dung, but it’s fresh, probably less than twenty-four hours old. He took several more steps and said, “Here’s where he took a leak. Looks like he flicked the butt away while he was peeing.”
    â€œNice work!” I said as I came over to have a look. The filter was still intact and some unburned tobacco was packed in against a ridge of remaining paper. I brought the butt to my nose and smelled it. My head kicked back reflexively. “Camel dung’s putting it mildly. People actually smoke this crap? Can’t be American tobacco.”
    We went back to the car, and I carefully wrapped the butt in a tissue and put it in the glove compartment. “So, you think our guy dropped it?”
    â€œMy gut says yes. The trailhead’s at the northwest corner of the switching area, a good fifteen yards from the tracks, and the urine spot another twenty yards down the trail. It’s unlikely the butt was dropped by a railroad worker, but I guess I can’t say for sure.” He paused again and nodded toward the glove compartment. “You sure we shouldn’t give it to Escalante?”
    â€œNah. We’ve compromised the chain of possession. Besides, I don’t want him to get the impression we’re trying to lead him. After all, you already showed him the tracks and all.”
    â€œYeah, and he wasn’t very impressed. I think he likes one of our party for the killer. He won’t want to hear any phantom of the railway theories.”
    â€œYou’re right. I shudder to think what a good prosecutor would do to your description of how the spring grass was bent but not broken. Good Paiute tracking work but not strong physical evidence in a court of law.”
    â€œFigures,” Philip answered.
    â€œBut we know someone came down that path last night. That’s the important thing. And we know he was probably a smoker. That’s more than I could have hoped for an hour ago.”
    We sat in my car for a while, not saying anything. It suddenly occurred to me that my friend had never once questioned my innocence. He’d taken my explanation at face value and had thrown himself into the task of helping me without a word of complaint.
    A cool breeze sprang up. Across the river a pinto mare and her colt grazed languidly on the grass that carpeted the slopes running down from the basalt formations. Below, the surface of the Deschutes glittered in the sun’s angled rays like a strand of braided gold.
    We didn’t need to say it. It was a given that we both longed to be down there, wading in that cold, green water, waiting expectantly for the next strike. But the events of the day had pushed that possibility away. It looked like we had a lot of work to do before we would be fishing together again.

Chapter Fourteen
    I asked Philip to drive my car as we headed back to Madras so I’d be free to phone Harrelson at Well Spring. He’d left a message for me to call, but no details. The extraordinary events of the day had managed to neutralize my anxiety about Claire, but it was now coming back with a vengeance. I caught him on his commute home.
    â€œMr. Claxton, thank you for getting back to me. We, uh, still haven’t been able to reach your daughter’s group. But, again, there’s no need to worry. We—”
    â€œNo need to worry?” I interrupted. “She’s five days overdue for our call.”
    â€œI understand your concern, Mr. Claxton. We’ve consulted with the AU, and as a