Point No Point Read Free Page B

usual.”
    “While the tree won’t help us find him, like a navy insignia would, it certainly will help us make a positive identification
    when it comes to that.” Amy’s eyes strayed down his body. “Any chance you can tell me what happened to his ankle? I told you what Bill said about it.”
    Again Janet looked at the mentioned body part even though all that was left of it was bone. “Not a snapping turtle, as your compatriot suggested. I’d say something was tied around it, probably attached to some kind of weight. Look here.” Her green rubberized finger pointed at the edge of skin over the ankle bone.
    Amy leaned in, trying not to breathe. She could see the skin looked stretched at the edges, worn through to the bone in places.
    The medical examiner continued. “I’m guessing somebody didn’t want this body to be found.”
    * * *
    Rich smelled Claire’s wet, sweet hair as she lay drowsing next to him. She must have been beat, because she asked him to keep a watch out for Meg and then fell right to sleep. It was nearly midnight—Meg’s birthday curfew. The book he was reading wasn’t bad, but he kept losing his place and staring off into space. He felt restless and not particularly sleepy.
    The phone rang. The real phone, not Claire’s work cellphone. Rich grabbed it before it could ring again and wake up Claire. He assumed it was Meg with some explanation as to why she couldn’t make it home in the next five minutes. Even though it was her birthday, he was going to have to be strict with her. Claire thought that he was way too lenient with Meg. He just found it hard to say no to her, and she didn’t ask for much.
    “Hello,” he said quietly as he slid out of bed and headed toward the bedroom door so he wouldn’t wake up Claire.
    At first there was no sound, then heavy breathing rasped on the other end of the phone line.
    “I think you’ve got the wrong number,” Rich said once he stepped out into the hallway and closed the bedroom door. He was ready to read whoever was on the other end the riot act. How stupid do you have to be to call a deputy sheriff’s number and make an obscene phone call?
    “Rich,” a deep male voice gasped.
    He recognized the voice immediately. His old friend, Chet Baldwin. Hadn’t heard from him in a while. What was he doing calling so late? “Chet?”
    “Rich, I need some help.” Chet’s voice sounded awful, like someone had shot it full of holes. He was wheezing and breathing hard.
    “What’s going on, Chet? Are you okay?”
    “No, I just don’t know.” Then he started to cry, a sound like wood being torn into shreds. Awful.
    Rich had never heard Chet cry before, in all their many years of being friends, really since grade school. They had played softball together. Chet had been a hell of a pitcher. Even the time that Chet got slammed in the face by a solid hit by Sammy Schultz and it broke his cheek bone, even then he hadn’t cried.
    “Chet, what’s the matter? Tell me what’s going on.”
    Chet managed to say, “I don’t know what to do. It’s just a big mess over here. Could you come over?”
    “Isn’t Anne there?” Rich asked.
    Chet had married about ten years ago to a younger
    woman—about fifteen years younger than Chet’s fifty-five years. Chet had met Anne at a square dance in Red Wing, Minnesota. She had danced him off his feet and vice versa.
    Chet started to cry. “She’s part of the problem.”
    “Anne?” Rich asked. But who else could the “she” be? They had no children. At least none that Rich knew of. Chet’s mother had died years ago. As far as Rich knew there was no other woman in Chet’s life but Anne.
    “Yes. I don’t know how it happened.”
    Rich hadn’t heard anything about Anne being sick. In fact, he had seen her a few weeks ago when the woodcarvers had met over at Chet’s house. She had looked lovely and seemed in good spirits. “Is she okay?”
    “I don’t know. I was gone. Went for a walk.”
    “Chet, has