Read Online Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour by Aaron Stander - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Aaron Stander
Ads: Link
them. The trail turned into a muddy stream as they slogged deeper into the swamp. And then the trail disappeared completely in the rising water.
Kim stopped, brushing loose strands of wet hair away from her face. She looked at the two possible paths through the marsh. “I not sure which way, I’ve only been here once. And with all this water it looks different.”
“We’ll go with your best guess, Kim,” said Ray.
“I just don’t know.”
Ray moved ahead of Kim and studied the terrain. “Let’s go to the right. The terrain looks a bit higher.” He sloshed ahead, finding firmer ground as they entered a thick stand of cedar. “Does this look familiar?” he asked.
“I can remember trees like this, we walked along the edge of a swamp.” She carefully surveyed the area. “If we can find the little lake, his hut will be off to the side.”
They worked their way through the cedar swamp, moving along the small isles of solid ground found at the base of the trees. Eventually they reached the shore of a mud lake, only a few dozen acres in size.
“This is it,” said Kim. “It’s about halfway around. Over there.” She pointed toward a thick stand of second growth pine.
Ray could see little through the fog and rain, but he marched off in that direction. A primitive wood and tarp shelter, thirty yards from the edge of the water near the base of a large pine, came into view. As they approached, Ray could see a metal stovepipe, but no hint of smoke. The frame of the tiny structure was built with small cedar logs. The walls were scraps of rough lumber and driftwood nailed in a haphazard manner to the log frame; the roof was draped with a blue plastic tarp fastened with ropes at the corners. A small wooden door faced the water. Ray pushed the door; it was secured on the inside. He shoved it forcefully, and it fell off its makeshift hinges. He peered into the dark cavity, and then fished for the small flashlight on his belt. In its beam he could see an unmoving body wrapped in a sleeping bag huddled against the back wall. Ray dropped to his knees and crawled through the door to get a better look. Sue crawled in behind him and helped illuminate the scene with her light.
“Is he okay?” Kim asked, looking over them from the outside.
Ray touched the wet clothing. He palpated the cold, clammy skin. He reached for the carotid artery, eventually finding a weak, stringy cadence. He put his light on Arnie’s face; his eyes were open but non-reactive to the light. “Arnie,” he said softly. He said it a second time, giving him a gentle shake. No response.
“Is he all right?” Kim asked the question again, this time more frantic than the first.
“Sue, do you have a large evidence bag?”
She crawled beside him. His flashlight pointed to a woman’s sandal close to Arnie on the floor. She carefully picked it up with a gloved hand and slid it into the bag, placing a second bag around the first.
“What’s wrong with him? Is he dead, sheriff?” asked Kim— panic in her voice as she peered over Ray’s shoulder.
“Arnie’s suffering from hypothermia. He’s been cold and wet for a long time. We’ve got to get him to the hospital. Kim, move outside for a few minutes while I cover him. Then you can sit with him.” Ray backed out of the hut. “Sue, see if dispatch can get a Coast Guard chopper in here. Tell them we have a victim in stage-three hypothermia.”
Ray took off his raincoat and jacket and climbed back into the shelter. After unwrapping the thin damp sleeping bag from Arnie’s upper torso, Ray covered him with his jacket and coat and laid him back down. Ray studied the 5-by-5-foot interior—the tiny sheet-metal stove in the corner with a plastic garbage bag nearby, a dented aluminum pan hanging on a nail at the side, three soggy People magazines, the wet blue nylon sleeping bag, and a small telescope laying near the stove—its eyepiece extending out from a protective nylon bag, nothing else. Kim
Kim stopped, brushing loose strands of wet hair away from her face. She looked at the two possible paths through the marsh. “I not sure which way, I’ve only been here once. And with all this water it looks different.”
“We’ll go with your best guess, Kim,” said Ray.
“I just don’t know.”
Ray moved ahead of Kim and studied the terrain. “Let’s go to the right. The terrain looks a bit higher.” He sloshed ahead, finding firmer ground as they entered a thick stand of cedar. “Does this look familiar?” he asked.
“I can remember trees like this, we walked along the edge of a swamp.” She carefully surveyed the area. “If we can find the little lake, his hut will be off to the side.”
They worked their way through the cedar swamp, moving along the small isles of solid ground found at the base of the trees. Eventually they reached the shore of a mud lake, only a few dozen acres in size.
“This is it,” said Kim. “It’s about halfway around. Over there.” She pointed toward a thick stand of second growth pine.
Ray could see little through the fog and rain, but he marched off in that direction. A primitive wood and tarp shelter, thirty yards from the edge of the water near the base of a large pine, came into view. As they approached, Ray could see a metal stovepipe, but no hint of smoke. The frame of the tiny structure was built with small cedar logs. The walls were scraps of rough lumber and driftwood nailed in a haphazard manner to the log frame; the roof was draped with a blue plastic tarp fastened with ropes at the corners. A small wooden door faced the water. Ray pushed the door; it was secured on the inside. He shoved it forcefully, and it fell off its makeshift hinges. He peered into the dark cavity, and then fished for the small flashlight on his belt. In its beam he could see an unmoving body wrapped in a sleeping bag huddled against the back wall. Ray dropped to his knees and crawled through the door to get a better look. Sue crawled in behind him and helped illuminate the scene with her light.
“Is he okay?” Kim asked, looking over them from the outside.
Ray touched the wet clothing. He palpated the cold, clammy skin. He reached for the carotid artery, eventually finding a weak, stringy cadence. He put his light on Arnie’s face; his eyes were open but non-reactive to the light. “Arnie,” he said softly. He said it a second time, giving him a gentle shake. No response.
“Is he all right?” Kim asked the question again, this time more frantic than the first.
“Sue, do you have a large evidence bag?”
She crawled beside him. His flashlight pointed to a woman’s sandal close to Arnie on the floor. She carefully picked it up with a gloved hand and slid it into the bag, placing a second bag around the first.
“What’s wrong with him? Is he dead, sheriff?” asked Kim— panic in her voice as she peered over Ray’s shoulder.
“Arnie’s suffering from hypothermia. He’s been cold and wet for a long time. We’ve got to get him to the hospital. Kim, move outside for a few minutes while I cover him. Then you can sit with him.” Ray backed out of the hut. “Sue, see if dispatch can get a Coast Guard chopper in here. Tell them we have a victim in stage-three hypothermia.”
Ray took off his raincoat and jacket and climbed back into the shelter. After unwrapping the thin damp sleeping bag from Arnie’s upper torso, Ray covered him with his jacket and coat and laid him back down. Ray studied the 5-by-5-foot interior—the tiny sheet-metal stove in the corner with a plastic garbage bag nearby, a dented aluminum pan hanging on a nail at the side, three soggy People magazines, the wet blue nylon sleeping bag, and a small telescope laying near the stove—its eyepiece extending out from a protective nylon bag, nothing else. Kim
Similar Books
