Juarez pointed his flashlight at the ground. The soil under the trees was soft. A set of boot prints led away from the house toward the river. Matt let Brody move forward. The dog needed no footprints. He followed a scent on the air.
Bree followed them, maintaining a parallel path and taking care not to disturb the prints themselves. They led to a cliff.
“Whoa, boy.” Matt commanded Brody to sit. The dog obeyed, but his reluctance was clear in his stiff posture. His gaze and full attention were focused on the drop-off.
Bree walked to the edge and shone her light into the abyss below. The drop was about forty feet. Cutting through the darkness, her beam barely reached the rocky riverbank below. Horror paralyzed her for one heartbeat. In the weakened light, she could see the distinct outline of a body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Matt stared over the edge of the cliff. Below, weeds, rocks, and sandy earth composed the riverbank. The body lay facedown, but Matt could see that it was male, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
When he’d last seen Todd, the chief deputy had been dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Matt tamped down his rage and sadness.
At his side, Bree was already moving away from the edge. “Let’s get down there.”
To the north, the ground leveled off some. Matt spotted a trail that zigzagged down the slope to the river. He pointed and headed for it. “There!”
With Bree on his heels, they ran for the descent. Brody was reluctant to leave the cliff’s edge, but once he saw the trail, he all but dragged Matt down it.
In his ear, Bree issued commands to her deputies, instructing them to call an ambulance and fetch a first aid kit. Matt didn’t hear the rest of her orders. At first he thought the river was drowning out her voice, but then he realized it was the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.
But Matt couldn’t unsee the man’s body. As much as he wanted him to be alive, in his heart he knew it was too late. While they’d been dicking around, following procedure, adhering to the letter of the law, a man had lain here dead.
Maybe he’d even been actively dying.
The deputies dispersed, presumably to follow orders. Matt’s focus tunneled to his own footsteps on the rocky path as Brody lunged into his harness. The dog’s weight forced Matt to concentrate or fall on his face. By the time they reached the bottom, sweat had soaked his shirt under his vest. Bree raced for the body. Matt held the dog back for fear of contaminating the scene.
The corpse lay in about two inches of water. Bree slowed. She stopped just ahead of Matt. The beam of her flashlight shook. She was doing the job, but she was as panicked as he was.
Todd was a hell of a chief deputy—and a good man.
Matt stopped. He almost didn’t want to know. Sickness rose in his throat as Bree approached the body. Her gaze was on the ground. She was likely making sure she didn’t step on any evidence. Matt shone his flashlight on the body. Even from ten feet away, he could see the grayish-blue tone of the skin.
Crouching, she pressed two fingers to the neck, then shook her head. “No pulse, and he’s cold. Really cold.” She reached for his shoulder and turned the body just enough to see the victim’s face. She gasped and nearly lost her grip.
Not Todd.
Matt also sucked wind as he took in the very dead face of Jim Rogers. Rogers and Todd were about the same size. Both had short brown hair. Both had been dressed in jeans and T-shirts the last time Matt had seen them. It was no wonder Matt had confused them from the back.
Relief—then guilt—rocked him. He shouldn’t be glad that it was Rogers instead of Todd.
Rogers wasn’t a horrible person. He’d done some bad things, but he had clearly regretted them. He’d struggled with his change of heart, and his remorse had been evident over the past months.
Bree rocked back on her heels. It seemed to take a few seconds for her to reset. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Me either.” A wave of nausea swept over Matt as his adrenaline rush abruptly ceased. He let it pass through him. No choice really. Couldn’t stop it.
Bree got to her feet, visibly steadying herself. She leaned on her thighs and took a few deep breaths before touching her mic. “It isn’t Chief Deputy Harvey.”
Brody lay down at Matt’s feet and rested his head on his paws. Matt crouched and stroked his head. “Good boy.”
“Is he OK?” Bree asked.
“He gets depressed when he finds dead people.”
Bree stepped away from Rogers. She canceled the ambulance and called the medical examiner.
Matt stood. “Could you see how he died?”