Free Dead River by Fredric M. Ham Page B

stepped out into the darkness. Hurricane Alberto had made a sharp turn north, no longer threatening the East Coast. But weather reports showed the outer bands drenching most of central Florida by late in the week.
    Adam walked to the main road to get his newspaper. Not one star was visible on the black backdrop of sky, and the early-morning air was sultry and still. From deep within the bushes along the south side of the driveway, a lone bullfrog croaked.
    On his way back to the house Adam stopped in front of the mailbox. He stood staring at it for several moments then turned in the direction of the main road. He dropped his head. Why did I ask her to get the mail?
    As he continued up the driveway the bullfrog stopped croaking. He tried to settle on the right time to tell Valerie and Dawn about the second phone call.
    In the house Adam poured himself another cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, not sure what to do with himself.
    “How about a cup of that coffee?” Carillo asked.
    Adam wheeled around at the sound, sending coffee flying out of his cup. “God, you scared the shit out of me.” His chest burned from the hot java.
    “Sorry. Let me clean up the mess.”
    “No, that’s all right. You pour yourself a cup and I’ll clean up.”
    “Hope you didn’t get burned.”
    “I’m all right.”
    Adam dabbed the coffee puddles off the tile floor and then went upstairs to change. He returned to find Carillo at the kitchen table reading his newspaper.
    Carillo glanced over the top of the paper. “I hope you don’t mind. I want to see if the Mets won last night.”
    “No, go ahead, Detective.”
    “Call me Peter, okay?”
    Adam sat at the table opposite Carillo. Elbows planted with his chin resting on his hands. Only his eyes looked up. “Sure. And call me Adam.”
    Carillo folded and creased the newspaper back like new and slowly laid it on the table. Adam sat staring at his coffee.
    “Better drink that stuff before it gets cold,” Carillo suggested.
    Adam didn’t look up. “Yeah, I know.”
    Carillo sipped his coffee then shifted in his chair. “I know this is a nightmare, but you can’t give up hope. Agent Goldman’s coming today. This is a big break for us.”
    Adam shook his head in silence.

 19
    FALL HAD FINALLY ARRIVED, and the Mississippi afternoon air was cool and crisp. The last school bell had just sounded, and David Sikes was ready to go home. But today, something was going to delay him. Something that would make him famous, at least at Jefferson Elementary. It all happened on the playground, south of the school building.
    “Don’t call me that,” David said. His face burned with anger.
    “Why not? You are chubby. You’re the fattest person in sixth grade. In fact, you’re the fattest person I ever seen.”
    “The Bible says I should turn the other cheek,” David said, rubbing the side of his jaw where the first blow had landed.
    Barnes stared at David for a moment, then held his stomach with both hands as he bent forward, laughing uncontrollably.
    By now seven kids had formed a circle around the two. Four were Barnes’s followers. David tried to swallow but couldn’t.
    Barnes looked around at the crowd. “Can you believe this asshole?” He turned and sneered, staring into David’s eyes. “You kill me, Sikes. You’re not only fat, you’re a total dipshit. Turn the other cheek. Go ahead, I’ll just hit you again.”
    Suddenly Barnes’s right fist seemed to come out of nowhere and crashed into the left side of David’s face. Pain exploded in his head, and all he could see were flashes of light against blackness. He fell, still unable to see, but felt Barnes trounce on his chest, his knees pinning David’s arms.
    The first thing David saw when his vision cleared was Barnes’s right fist, high in the sky, ready to strike again. “Okay, shithead, turn your other cheek again. This one’s for tryin’ to run over me with your bike.”
    At that moment David decided once was