Death Over the Dam (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 2) Read Free

scrambled for the treetops. White-tailed deer, rabbits and foxes headed for higher ground.
    At 1: 30 a.m., the rain was slowing down but the creeks were still rising and the river was about to reach its record crest. A man who lived nearly a half mile from the old river ferry landing called 911 to report that he had stepped out of his bed in the dark and found himself up to his knees in water. He was sitting on his roof with his wife and his dog.
    After conferring with the Clarence Bartow, the county’s emergency management director, Sheriff Sam Bailey divided his forces between the two sides of the river, put Sgt. Taneesha Martin in charge of the west side, and drove at top speed, sirens on, to make it back to Merchantsville before the flood divided his jurisdiction in half.
    At 2 a.m., Bartow ordered all roads to the river and creek bridges barricaded.
    At 3 a.m., the river was over the Cathay levee and covering the pews at New Life CME Church.
    At 5:17 a.m. the 75 year old Timpoochee Lake dam, five miles north of Cathay, collapsed. The waters it had been holding back roared across the two-lane bridge and the highway leading up to it.
    The foundation under the highway on the south side, built a half century earlier on mounded dirt, red clay and gravel, washed out. The bridge buckled and collapsed, creating a trap for flailing catfish, branches, old bait cans, and, finally, for a casket.
    It was built of pine, stained to a reddish black by earth, clay and water. It splintered, but did not break open as it tumbled and jolted to a stop, caught between a tree trunk and a slab of asphalt-covered concrete.
    The floodwaters parted around the casket and moved on.

CHAPTER 3
    O N S ATURDAY WHEN THE SUN ROSE, the rain had stopped, and Magnolia County was cut in half by the flood. The river was still seeking its own level, finding places to go, backing into creeks that had already overflowed onto highways and into any building that happened to be in the way.
    Merchants were drifting down the main street of downtown Cathay in boats, looking sorrowfully into stores and shops flooded to the ceiling, worrying about what their insurance would cover and what to tell their employees.
    Merchantsville, just five miles away on the other side of the river, had been built on higher ground, and wasn’t hit as hard, but there were still closed bridges, and the dirty water had reached a half dozen homes, the baseball field at the Middle School and the animal shelter.
    Tyler Bankston listened to the reports on the radio while he drank his morning coffee at 7:30 a.m., and said, “I’ll be damned,” at least a dozen times before his wife Ellie reminded him that she didn’t like cursing in her house.
    Tyler called Hunter.
    “Where are you?”
    “At R&J’s,” she said, “They opened early for the emergency workers, and I’m getting Sam some breakfast to take over to his office. He only got a couple of hours of sleep.”
    “Well, how about getting some news out of him instead of just holding hands? And see if you can find a way over to Cathay. That’s where the worst of it is.”
    Hunter grinned as she often did when Tyler Bankston’s priorities became clear. Sam might want her to stay at home and take no risks. Tyler put getting the news for his weekly newspaper first.
    “I talked with Novena a few minutes ago,” Hunter said. “She said to tell you they’ve got creek water up to their back steps, and the interstate’s closed for about seven miles. She’s figured out that she’d have to drive about 70 miles to get to that ribbon cutting in Cathay without having to drive underwater. Oh, and she said to tell you she and Bobby didn’t drown, in case you’re interested.”
    “Looks like she’d have figured out that there’s not going to be any ribbon cutting in Cathay,” Tyler said. “Sounds like the whole downtown over there is in six feet of water.”
    Ramona Martin was waiting at the cash register, so Hunter said a quick