Free Night of the Living Thread (A Threadville Mystery) by Janet Bolin Page A

beginning of the trail leading upriver. Maybe Floyd had gone that way. No wonder the dogs had stopped trying to lead me home.
    The fire truck raced into view at the top of the hill and stopped, its mist-filtered spotlight on me and the surrounding area. Clay jumped out of the driver’s seat. The dogs stood straighter, wagged their tails, and faced up the hill as Clay, Haylee, and the other volunteer firefighters thundered down it. Apparently, Sally-Forth thought this was an excellent opportunity to practice obeying the “speak” command, even though I wasn’t giving it.
    The 911 dispatcher let me go. Juggling dog leashes and the rope attached to Lenny’s life ring, I phoned Edna. No answer. I left her a breathless message to return my call.
    Clay reached me first and steadied me with one warm hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Willow?”
    I pointed at Lenny and told Clay and the other firefighters what had happened.
    As we’d practiced, in the absence of the fire chief and his deputy, Clay directed the rescue operation. Two members who were divers began putting on their gear. The rest of the crew spread out to search the riverbanks.
    I grabbed Haylee’s arm. “Do you know where Edna is?” I asked. “She didn’t answer her phone.”
    Her eyes opened wide with fear that matched mine. “She should be at Gord’s. I’ll try him.” She fingered her phone screen. Her hands were shaking as much as I was.
    Out on the river, Lenny hung on to both the life ring and the skirt’s extension cord as currents carried him toward the lake. He lifted his head to breathe, then continued his underwater search.
    Haylee left a message for Gord to have Edna call her or me immediately. She pocketed her phone and bit her lip. “No answer. I’ll go help Clay search the banks.”
    I’d have gone, too, but I needed to focus on Lenny.
    Our two divers plodded down the boat ramp and into the water. When they reached Lenny, he handed one of them the extension cord.
    I beckoned to the surfer-boy lifeguard zombie. Still gripping the life ring, he swam to the base of the boat ramp and waded out of the water. No vestiges were left of his zombie makeup, and he had turned into a rather stunning man, though not nearly as stunning as Clay, nearby on the riverbank in his jeans and chambray shirt.
    I handed Lenny his towel and pulled my dogs away in case he wouldn’t understand Sally-Forth and her nurturing ways and wouldn’t want her holding him down with her paws and attempting to lick him dry.
    Clay strode to us, pulled a packaged survival blanket from a pocket, and tore open the packet. “Wrap up in this,” Clay ordered, “and please wait here for the ambulance. The techs will check you out and give you a warm drink.”
    Lenny’s teeth were chattering. Mine were, also, although except for the toes of my sneakers, I hadn’t been in the water.
    Clay and I both thanked Lenny and asked him if he’d like to join our volunteer fire department.
    “I would,” he said, “but I live down near Slippery Rock.”
    Clay slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “When did you hear that splash?”
    “About ten to ten.”
    His jaw tightened. “Over fifteen minutes ago. If someone was trapped in that dress this long, only a pocket of air could have saved her. Do you think that fabric would hold enough air?”
    “I hope so.” I grasped the dogs’ leashes more tightly. I could barely speak. I managed a halting, “What if it’s Edna?”
    “She’s probably safe and sound at Gord’s.” His voice was comforting, but I could tell he was worried, too.
    I leaned into him. “She didn’t answer her phone. Haylee and I both left messages.”
    “Maybe no one is in that skirt,” he said. “Maybe kids pushed it in.”
    “I hope so. I did hear someone running away, up Lake Street. And they left wet footprints.”
    “You’re shivering.” Clay locked both arms around me. “We’ve got a good crew here. I hope it will turn out that