From a Dead Sleep Read Free Page A

horror at the image of the man purposely letting his body fall forward off the bridge. Sean’s mind interpreted the scene in slow motion. Regardless of how fast his legs were pumping, there was no way of reaching the stranger in time. This curtain of helplessness was quickly replaced by numbing shock when a deep-red spray jetted through the air, just above where the stranger’s body dropped from visibility. After hovering for a second, the red mist quickly dispersed into the breeze.
    There was no sound of a gunshot. The silencer had done its job.
    With a coarse gasp and a wrenching cramp in his stomach, Sean immediately altered his direction toward the railing at his side. He dropped to his knees and craned his neck over the edge, just in time to see the fluttering trench coat drop into the swirling water below with a loud splash.
    Water flew high into the air, but the jetting rapids quickly replaced all disruption of the river’s flow. The body disappeared into the violent churning; swallowed whole. All that was left was a burning smell and a red, discolored stream of water that dissolved into whiteness as it was quickly carried downstream.
    Sean’s chest heaved in and out as he struggled for breath. He felt as if he himself was drowning. The realization of what he had just witnessed quickly sank into the depths of his stomach.

Chapter 2
    B reath was in short supply as Sean’s feet fumbled briskly along the rocky edge of the river. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the black blob he’d thought he saw momentarily bobbing up and down as it shot downstream.
    Thick pine branches smacked against his face, and his ankles repeatedly buckled under the weight of his body as he negotiated round, wet rocks and overturned foliage. He could taste sap on his lips. More than once his legs dipped down into freezing cold water, which drenched his pants. Yet, none of nature’s obstacles hindered resolve.
    Sean himself couldn’t say where his persistence and motivation were coming from, but the helplessness he had felt while kneeling at the top of the bridge did not sit well. His heart wouldn’t let him give up. Anger encompassed him as he briskly lumbered alongside the water. The anger stewed from his failure to recognize, until it was too late, what was transpiring right before him. He also felt intense guilt over the effect his poor decision from the night before was having on his body. If his head was just a little clearer, and his legs had moved just a little faster, maybe he would have been able to stop the stranger. Then again, if he wouldn’t have gotten drunk, he wouldn’t have been there in the first place. Perhaps he was being too hard on himself.
    After a few more seconds, and one last possible appearance of the bubbled-up coat, Sean lost all traces of the stranger. The water was moving too fast. The body was gone.
    He stopped and dropped to his knees, refusing to take his eyes off of the river. All was eerily tranquil again. A light breeze; birds singing. It was as if nothing had ever happened.
    Minutes later, his side cramped with ferocity as he strove to keep up a jogging pace. A dry belch bellowed from deep within his stomach and he tasted hours-old alcohol in his mouth. His ankle ached from twisting on a rock along the river’s edge. Still, even through straining muscles and painful panting, he lumbered his way steadily down on the dirt and gravel of County Road 2, headed toward town. Dense beads of sweat poured down the sides of his face. His drenched hair shone. Images of the horrific scene from the bridge were still fresh in his head, and the scent of a gun being fired still lingered in his nose. They all took a momentary backseat to the thoughts of what reaction he would face from the town’s authorities.
    Sean had a very complicated relationship with the chief of police, Gary Lumbergh. The two were engaged in what could best be described as a rivalry that was a secret to no one. In fact, it was often the