No Such Person Read Free Page B

Miranda asks herself. Say nothing? Let it go?
    Nobody else saw it. He’ll deny it. My sister will say it’s my lifelong habit to exaggerate. Everybody will despise me for making a bad situation even worse.
    Miranda never wears clothing without pockets because she never goes anywhere without her cell phone. Lander is wrong that this is not a video, because Miranda filmed the
Paid at Last
when it was circling. The driver is very good-looking. It upsets Miranda that she would even notice, under these circumstances.
    Lander helps the boy tie up at their narrow dock. Riverine laws do not permit the Allerdons to build a larger dock because the channel here is so close to the shore. One family in their neighborhood has an aluminum dock that is winched up when it is not in use. Some families have waterfront property, but not dock rights. Only one family has land low enough and far enough from the channel for a real dock with a pier.
    Lander puts the big striped beach towel around the young man’s shoulders and Miranda takes another picture. Lander and the boy are looking at each other, faces close, and they are both beautiful, with oddly similar profiles. Lander’s sympathetic smile looks like the smile of a coconspirator.
    Miranda is sickened by this thought.
    Lander is right: the little sister still exaggerates in a hideous cruel way. Miranda drops her cell phone back into her pocket.
    The boy takes the mug of coffee from Miranda’s mother. Maybe coffee is a nice idea for helping someboby in shock, but nevertheless, while his friend is drowning, he’s sipping coffee. “It’s my fault,” he says.
    Nobody disagrees.
    But Lander and Miranda’s mother are thinking that his faulty action led to an accident. Miranda is thinking it is homicide. A murder that takes no time, no effort, no weapon, and will not be found during autopsy.
    Behind the barge and tug, young men on Jet Skis have been racing back and forth over the wake, springing up and slapping down on artificial waves, having a great time. They have not seen the tragedy and are shocked when Miranda’s father signals from the Zodiac, tells them what happened, asks them to look.
    How many deep breaths has Miranda taken since the poor swimmer was swept underwater? A lot.
    The boy is young. Maybe twenty. He will not finish college. He will not have a career or get married or have children or go home for Thanksgiving. He will have a funeral and his mother and father will never get over it.
    The ambulance comes down their driveway, but a land-bound rescue crew can do nothing.
    The Coast Guard patrols on weekends in a little white boat that looks like a tub toy. They try to keep the speed down among powerboats, prevent racing, check permits, monitor safety regulations, fine people for not using flotation devices. The patrol boat will be on its way, but it could be miles from here.
    Supposedly the patrol boat also makes sure nobody is doing drug runs. There are plenty of little inlets and tiny winding streams in wide yellow marshes where a boat could drop off illegal substances. But Miranda has never heard of any druggie or criminal being caught along the river, although she has often thought that their own property is perfect for silent, secret comings and goings.
    She glances up the bluff. Their little town has a resident state trooper and he is here.
    Do I tell him about the tow rope?
    But already the image is not clear.
    Neighbors gather. There is a whole line of people on the Allerdon bluff. Henry and Hayden either never left in the first place or are back. Jack, the twelve-year-old, and Geoffrey, the fifteen-year-old, want to jump in the water and help with the search, but Miranda’s father is not letting them.
    Out in the water, the Jet Ski men give a shout. They have the body.
    Miranda is amazed. The river does not easily give up its dead. The water carries a body out to sea or lodges it in some sunken tree to become fish food.
    On the dock, Lander puts her arm around