Read Dead River for Free Online

now.”
    “Detective Carillo will be staying here around the clock. So if you have any questions, just ask him. Okay?
    “Yes,” Adam replied.
    He was sure there would be many things to ask once he had time to think straight again. But right now the only question he had was about the search party. Why hasn’t Detective Wilkerson called?

 6 
    Adam checked the grandfather clock in the foyer. It was seven-forty. Detective Wilkerson should have called by now. He slid the detective’s card from his wallet and settled on a barstool in the kitchen.
    “Wilkerson.”
    “This is Adam Riley.”
    “I was about to call you.”
    Adam thumped his fingers on the counter. “What’s going on with the search party?”
    “That’s why I was going to call. I’ve organized about seventy-five civilian volunteers. They started combing the woods around your house about an hour ago.”
    “Where else are they searching?”
    “In your backyard.”
    “Why there?”
    “Actually they’re walking the shoreline along the river in the back.”
    Adam’s heart raced. “Okay,” he whispered. “Please call me if you find out anything.”
    “I will. Better get off the phone.”
    Adam slowly pushed the bedroom door open. Valerie was sleeping. The blanket was on the floor beside her, in a pile. He gently walked to the bathroom and flipped the light on, then slowly closed the door, leaving it cracked. When he turned toward the bed he saw the narrow beam of light illuminating Val’s face. He stood motionless for several moments. He still marveled at how Sara Ann resembled her mother.
    His thoughts drifted to their days together at Florida State. Valerie was an Alabama girl, a Baptist. She’d have to become a Catholic if they were to ever marry.
    “You’d do that?” Adam asked. “Really?”
    Each word she spoke was protracted, but smooth and sensuous to his ear. “I said I would, didn’t I?” Valerie answered, with a soft smile.
    “What would your parents think?”
    “I love you. That’s all that matters.”
    “It’ll matter to them if they don’t want you to convert.”
    Valerie gently poked Adam’s ribs. “Silly man. They don’t mind at all.”
    Valerie rolled over. The rustling on the mattress swept Adam back.

    “Detective,” Adam said, as he entered the living room.
    Carillo was sunk into the couch. He looked up from his Louis L’Amour paperback. “Yes?”
    “Have you heard anything?”
    “Nothing.”
    Adam paced the room, glancing at the equipment on the table at each pass. “I need to do something.” He massaged his forehead with both palms and stared at the ceiling. “Goddamn it, something!”
    “Mr. Riley, there are a lot of people on this. You need to calm down.”
    “Calm down? How the hell do you think I can do that?”
    “This isn’t helping.”
    Adam stopped and faced Carillo. “You remember my daughter’s diabetic, right?”
    “Yes, I know that.”
    “Do you know how severe her diabetes is?”
    “No, I don’t. But if you’re going to make a point, please make it.”
    Adam dropped on the couch, taking a deep breath. He looked over at Carillo. “I don’t know how much insulin she has with her.”
    Carillo didn’t say anything.
    “She must have her waist pack with her because it wasn’t in the car. So she has some syringes, but I don’t know how many.”
    “How many does she usually take with her?” Carillo asked.
    “Two or three, maybe four. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

 7 
    TWENTY YEARS EARLIER in a small Mississippi town, a boy sat at the edge of his bed in an aging two-story house. The house was built in 1939, and years of neglect gave way to mostly exposed, weathered wood on the exterior. What paint that remained had faded to a chalky gray. The house had no air-conditioning, and inside, the heavy air had a crumbling, musty smell.
    In the sweltering heat of a July evening the boy on the bed read his Bible. David Allen Sikes was twelve years old.
Flee fornication. Every