Seeds of Evidence (9781426770838) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Linda J. White
away from that, but old habits die hard, and he had to set his jaw to keep from turning around to retrieve it.
Walking through the motel parking lot he could hear kids playing in the swimming pool out front, and his mind turned again to the little dead boy on the beach. Itâs not your case, he told himself, but he couldnât help wondering how the boy got there, and where his parents were. Was he dead when he hit the water or did someone choke him then throw him overboard, still alive?
Shaking his head to dislodge those thoughts, he looked through the motel office window. He saw the front desk clerk, a young woman named Maria, waved to her, and continued walking through the parking lot and out onto the blue-gray weathered dock. A few small boats bobbed in slips near the shore and a couple of youngsters, two boys wearing Washington Nationals baseball caps, stood on the dock. One of them had a small line in his hand, the other a net. They peered excitedly over the edge and David knew they had a crab nibbling their bait.
The sun sat just above the horizon, a blood orange disk lending its dying light to the shimmering atmosphere. The marshes to the west, deep in shadow, looked purple now. David could still smell them. He was a long way from D.C.
When he stood at the end of the dock, he felt like he was in the middle of the water, surrounded and enveloped by the colors of the sunset and the deepening twilight. The wavesbeneath him lapped gently against the pier and birds swooped all around, looking for one last morsel of fish, their wings making soft whooshing noises in the air. As David breathed slowly, evenly, his soul reached out for the beauty before him.
The sunsets were why heâd taken the house on South Main Street, and in just the few days heâd been there, heâd not been disappointed. Every night seemed different; tonight, a symphony of deep red yielding to pinks and purples played out before him on the horizon and echoed on the water, first on the channel, then in the runs and sloughs beyond the marshes across the way. He saw waterfowl lift off from a marsh, and a large white bird land on a channel marker, and he heard fish plop as they jumped up to catch the insects that hovered over the water. He looked down at the dark, swiftly moving water, and for a second he imagined taking one step forward, and slipping into its embrace.
Muttering an oath he diverted his eyes. He could hear a boat coming up the channel. He stood still and watched it make its way north, its running lights defining its outline. It was a good-sized powerboat, something like a Grady-White or a Boston Whaler, with a small canopy. It cut through the water efficiently, undeterred by the strong currents. David watched as it pulled into the Coast Guard station just a few hundred yards away.
Then it was quiet again, except for the call of a night bird.
As darkness fell, he heard footsteps on the pier, and thought it was one of the crabbers, but when he turned and looked, the footsteps belonged to Maria, from the motel office. â
¡Buenos noches, señorita!
â he said. He found himself anticipating her smile. She wore a sundress with a white background and big splashes of bright flowers. Her thick, dark hair framed her face and fell to her shoulders.
âSo how are you tonight, Señor David?â she asked in her thickly accented voice.
He responded in Spanish, telling her he felt tired from surfing and running errands and that he was going to go back to the house, read for a while, and go to sleep. She loved the fact he would speak to her in her language, and he was happy to please her. It seemed such a small thing.
â¿Dónde comió usted esta noche?â
she asked. Where did you eat tonight?
He told her he hadnât eaten, and she frowned at him, pursing her lips, and began making restaurant suggestions. Finally he raised his hand, laughing, and told her he would just probably make a sandwich and
Walking through the motel parking lot he could hear kids playing in the swimming pool out front, and his mind turned again to the little dead boy on the beach. Itâs not your case, he told himself, but he couldnât help wondering how the boy got there, and where his parents were. Was he dead when he hit the water or did someone choke him then throw him overboard, still alive?
Shaking his head to dislodge those thoughts, he looked through the motel office window. He saw the front desk clerk, a young woman named Maria, waved to her, and continued walking through the parking lot and out onto the blue-gray weathered dock. A few small boats bobbed in slips near the shore and a couple of youngsters, two boys wearing Washington Nationals baseball caps, stood on the dock. One of them had a small line in his hand, the other a net. They peered excitedly over the edge and David knew they had a crab nibbling their bait.
The sun sat just above the horizon, a blood orange disk lending its dying light to the shimmering atmosphere. The marshes to the west, deep in shadow, looked purple now. David could still smell them. He was a long way from D.C.
When he stood at the end of the dock, he felt like he was in the middle of the water, surrounded and enveloped by the colors of the sunset and the deepening twilight. The wavesbeneath him lapped gently against the pier and birds swooped all around, looking for one last morsel of fish, their wings making soft whooshing noises in the air. As David breathed slowly, evenly, his soul reached out for the beauty before him.
The sunsets were why heâd taken the house on South Main Street, and in just the few days heâd been there, heâd not been disappointed. Every night seemed different; tonight, a symphony of deep red yielding to pinks and purples played out before him on the horizon and echoed on the water, first on the channel, then in the runs and sloughs beyond the marshes across the way. He saw waterfowl lift off from a marsh, and a large white bird land on a channel marker, and he heard fish plop as they jumped up to catch the insects that hovered over the water. He looked down at the dark, swiftly moving water, and for a second he imagined taking one step forward, and slipping into its embrace.
Muttering an oath he diverted his eyes. He could hear a boat coming up the channel. He stood still and watched it make its way north, its running lights defining its outline. It was a good-sized powerboat, something like a Grady-White or a Boston Whaler, with a small canopy. It cut through the water efficiently, undeterred by the strong currents. David watched as it pulled into the Coast Guard station just a few hundred yards away.
Then it was quiet again, except for the call of a night bird.
As darkness fell, he heard footsteps on the pier, and thought it was one of the crabbers, but when he turned and looked, the footsteps belonged to Maria, from the motel office. â
¡Buenos noches, señorita!
â he said. He found himself anticipating her smile. She wore a sundress with a white background and big splashes of bright flowers. Her thick, dark hair framed her face and fell to her shoulders.
âSo how are you tonight, Señor David?â she asked in her thickly accented voice.
He responded in Spanish, telling her he felt tired from surfing and running errands and that he was going to go back to the house, read for a while, and go to sleep. She loved the fact he would speak to her in her language, and he was happy to please her. It seemed such a small thing.
â¿Dónde comió usted esta noche?â
she asked. Where did you eat tonight?
He told her he hadnât eaten, and she frowned at him, pursing her lips, and began making restaurant suggestions. Finally he raised his hand, laughing, and told her he would just probably make a sandwich and
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