The Reckoning - BLACKBIRD book 3

1. the river

"What am I to do
With all this silence
I'm better off without you
Tearing my will down."
Maynard J. Keenan, A Stranger

**picture: Salmon Falls River

A cool breeze murmured through the leaves, dappling the riverbank in shivering spots of shadows and light by the water, that sparkled on its way to the sea. It was such a beautiful spring morning, it looked specially designed to be outdoors. But not where the dead body of a ten-year-old boy had been found, pushed ashore by the current.

Gillian lingered near the water while officers of South Berwick PD moved around the taped-off area of the riverbank, searching for any piece of evidence they could find. Gillian knew there would be nothing. The Coroner's first inspection showed the body had been in the water for more than twelve hours. It had come floating down Salmon Falls River, New Hampshire on one side, Maine on the other.

She looked to her right, up the river. What had happened to that boy? Had he fallen into the river and drowned? Was he killed and dumped? Where?

Aldana came down from the shoulder of the road to join her. "The body's being taken to Alfred, the county seat. Hank's already on his way there. They're waiting for him to start the autopsy," Aldana said, stopping by her side. "Ron is setting up shop at the police station and Fred is finding us accommodation."

Gillian just nodded, absentminded. She hated cases involving children. She breathed deep, forcing herself to bring her head back to the game. "T needs a picture of the body, to run against missing children reports," she said, stealing her eyes away from the hypnotic motion of the water to face Aldana.

"You don't think it was an accident," Aldana said, statement, not question.

"Even if it was, the body spent at least all night in the water. Meaning somewhere up the river, there's a family looking for their missing child."

"But you don't think it was an accident."

Gillian almost smiled at Aldana's repetition. She shook his head with a sigh. The preliminary report didn't mention visible lesions or mortal wounds on the body, but for her, it only meant the boy hadn't just stumbled into the water, hit his head and drowned.

"There's no Amber Alert in this area," said Aldana.

"That only means the boy left his house with his parents' permission and nobody saw him being hijacked."

Aldana arched her eyebrows at Gillian's dull, gloomy voice. She knew those cases had an effect on her. Maybe later, when they got something to work on, the thrill of the chase would bring her spirits up.

"Let's go to the station," Gillian said.

"We're on foot."

Gillian turned to her—really?

Aldana shrugged. "Just saying."

"C'mon, it's only half a mile away. And I can use some real fresh air."

Aldana headed back to the road and noticed Gillian hadn't followed. She was still by the riverbank, looking north, up the stream, phone to her ear.

"T, search this river's currents and find me how far a body can float down in twelve hours," she said, and disconnected. She sighed again, turned her back to the river, and joined Aldana in no hurry.

A while later, the team gathered around a desk, in a corner of the squad room at the South Berwick Police Station, when Hank called from the Coroner's office in Alfred.

"Shoot, Hank," Gillian said, turning to the board, where they only had pinned the picture of the dead boy and a map of the area.

"The body's been in the water for twelve to fifteen hours, but the boy died at least three days ago. No water in his lungs. There's a ligature mark around his waist, thick rope. It suggests that the body was thrown to the river with a weight tied to his waist and it loosened up. Then the body surfaced and floated down the river."

Aldana, Ron and Fred traded a look.

Gillian kept facing the board, her back turned to them. She couldn't help but sound dry, as she stomached the report. "Anything on his identity?"

"No, nothing. And the water obviously washed away anything I could've used to get a clue about where he'd been..."

Gillian scowled at the way he trailed off. "What is it, Hank?"

"He was sexually abused, Reg. Many times."

All of them growled.

"D'you have anything left to do there?" asked Gillian.

"No, I'm on my way out."

She glanced at Ron, who disconnected and dialed Tanya.

"Hey, lads," the girl greeted them. "Reg, I'm still trying to calculate—"

Gillian cut her off. "Forget it. I want you to look for missing children matching our Johnny Doe in a ten-mile ratio from here. Go back one year. Kurt, turn your damned music off and search for matches with T's search in morgues, same area, same period."

Ron disconnected and Gillian turned to them. "Aren't we lucky," she said, her voice oozing bitterness. "We got ourselves a homicidal pedophile."