James Patterson - Till Murder Do Us Part

San Joaquin County, California

August 7, 1980

Friends Reggie Sanders and Pat Moorehouse walk along a path parallel to a concrete channel filled with slow-moving water. There isnt a cloud in the sky, and the sun reflects off the steel-gray surface, making visibility into the water impossible. Between them, the two men are carrying fishing poles, tackle boxes, portable lawn chairs, and a small cooler. The cooler currently contains only a six-pack of Schlitz, though the men hope it will be full of striped bass when they make this walk in reverse in a few hours.

Are we there yet? Pat asks, his forehead beaded with sweat.

Almost, Reggie assures him. Its just up here. Im telling youI saw all kinds of fish in there. You wont be sorry.

A few weeks ago, Reggie and his wife had taken an evening walk along the canal, and hed spotted a section where dozens of fish were swimming. The deeper water is nearly opaque, but in the right light, the top foot or so is translucent enough to allow for glimpsing whats floating around down there. As soon as Reggie saw how many fish there were, he told Pat they needed to come throw some lines in and try to land a fewthough its taken the men, who both work at the nearby Altamont Speedway, until now to find time in their schedules to go fishing.

The waterwaytechnically named the Governor Edmund G. Brown California Aqueduct, though most people simply call it the California Aqueductis a series of canals and tunnels carrying water throughout the state. Its four hundred miles of waterways also happen to be full of fish, at least in this twenty-foot-wide section outside the city of Tracy.

Its morning, but the temperature is already warm. The day is only going to get hotter, so the two friends will probably knock off by early afternoon. There isnt any shade out here.

Here it is, Reggie says. The spot I was telling you about.

He sets down his tackle box and lawn chair, and takes the teardrop-shaped fishing net dangling from his belt and drops it in the dirt.

I dont see any, Pat says, squinting down at the water. Its hard to see anything because of the angle of the sun reflecting brightly off the surface. You said the water was so thick with them that you could practically walk across it.

That was a figure of speech, Reggie says.

The men set up their lawn chairs and open their tackle boxes. Reggie has also brought a Styrofoam container of live night crawlers, and the two men bait their hooks with squirming worms and then cast their lines out into the water.

Want a beer? Pat asks.

Does the pope shit in the woods? Reggie laughs as Pat tosses him a Schlitz. Its nice and quiet out here, aint it?

Sure is.

Its hard to believe that to the east, the bustling San Francisco Bay Area is not far away. But here, among the beige sandy walkways along the canal and the fields of golden hay stretching in all directions, the crowded metropolitan world feels very distant.

Hey, Pat says, sitting up in his chair and pulling on his pole. I think I got one.

His rod curves sharply as he tries to reel in whatever is on the end of the line.

Nah, he says, disappointed. It aint no fish. Im snagged on something.

Huh, Reggie says. Wonder what it could be.

One benefit of fishing in the aqueduct is that its relatively free of debris. Compared to a river or lake, there are few logs, branches, and rocks. Snagging a hook on something is relatively uncommon.

Whatever it is, its gonna break my line if Im not careful.

Reggie picks up his fishing net and kneels down at the edge of the slope.

Get it close to the surface, and Ill try to get the net on it, whatever it is.

Reggie reaches with the three-foot-long handle and dips the teardrop-shaped loop down into the water. He feels something largemaybe a logand gets the net over it. He heaves and is surprised by the weight. He cant believe Pats line hasnt broken already.

What is it? Pat asks.

Cant see it. Reggie groans with the effort of trying to pull the thing up without falling into the water.

What soon surfaces from the water, Reggies fishing net all tangled around it, is a human head, with the rest of the body visible just below the surface of the water. The face belongs to a man, its skin ghoulishly pale, its eyes sunken and milky inside cavernous sockets. A tongue pokes from the mouth like a swollen purple leech.

Holy shit! Reggie shouts, letting go of the nets aluminum handle as if it has suddenly become scalding hot.

Pat jerks his pole in terror and the line finally snaps. The body bobs at the surface for a moment before it begins to sink again. Before it disappears back into the murk, pulling the fishing net down with it, they can see that a heavy chain, like a vehicle tow cable, is wrapped around its shoulders and torso.

Reggie and Pat stare at the surface of the water, their chests heaving.

Did I just see what I thought I saw? Pat says.

Im afraid so, Reggie says.

What do we do?

What do you think? We get the hell out of here and go call the police.