G. M. Ford - Red Tide

The native son is missing. Missing how? Packed his gear

The last moments of Carson Moodys life were silent. Surely

When the hand grasped her elbow, she twitched at the

Give it a rest, huh? Corso stood in the street

Her new boyfriend plays the saxophone in one of those

At first, hed attributed the sound to echoes. Told himself the noise

Assistant Fire Chief Ben Gardener sat down in front

Meg Dougherty spoke directly into the drivers ear. Dont lose

Corso rested his cheek on one of the rear tires

It was with great trepidation that SPD Chief Harry Dobson

Dougherty chewed at her lower lip as she trudged up

A bead of sweat slipped out of Corsos hairline, slalomed down

Dr. Hans Belder buried his nose in the TV monitor

Fingers pulled the strings around Corsos face tight, leaving only

Stevie had the radio on. KING 980. Action News. Jim Sexton

You see? Right here. Colonel Hines pointed at the close-up

Corso wadded the haz-mat suit into a ball and jammed

A hundred feet up, the maze of skeletal oak branches churned

Its inert, the man said. His name was Preston Novac

Detective Sergeant Charly Hart was not, by nature, a happy

Shauna Collins caught sight of them the minute she turned

Pitch black. Corso hurried now. Running quietly on the balls

They had always known each other. Thats how it was

The first thing he noticed was the red emergency light

I want to call my attorney. Youre starting to get repetitive

Hed told her to hold all his calls, so the

He gave them ten minutes to swap stories. Gutierrez and

They were lined up like so many schoolboys. Standing at

Along the western horizon, a dark line of clouds rolled

Governor James Doss unfurrowed his brow just long enough

Patricia Mitchell pointed to a spot on her front porch. The boy

Guy never even blinked, Corso said. Whos that? Gutierrez asked

The mayor was livid. How could you hang me out

The car took one final tumble and then lurched to

Hans Belder flipped the plastic evidence bag containing the coaster

Corso and Charly Hart came up the hall together. Other

The black-visored quartet bent low as they made their

When a soft tap sounded on the hotel room door

Samuel made a noise like a bird. Me too, Paul

Overhead, the banks of mercury vapor lights rained an eerie glow

Charly Hart slammed the phone on the bed. Son of

Wesley shifted his weight from foot to foot. Nathan gave him

Fifteen minutes, the foreman bawled. Right back here in fifteen

Harris pulled the spraying wand from the clips on the

Corso pushed the accelerator to the floor. The SPD cruiser

Charly Hart pushed the walkie-talkie button. Chief? he said

Eight hundred fifty-seven feet at the waterline, the captain said

At first, Bobby Darling, like all the others, wondered why

Having climbed over the rail without being noticed, Bobby Darling

On threeyou ready? Jim watched the officers jockey

STAND CLEAR, the voice boomed over the loudspeakers. STAND CLEAR

On the morning of the third day, a couple of moonsuited

Dr. Helen Stafford adjusted the microphone. I think it would

No dreams at all. No feeling. No moving. Just a sense

First out were the dead. Or what was left of them

Hes expecting me. The pair of marine MPs manning the front

Corso opened the damp envelope. Dear Frank, If youre reading

T he native son is missing.

Missing how?

Packed his gear and drove off in the van.

For thirty seconds the only sound on the line was static.

He was always the weak link.

A weak link with a personal ax to grind.

They all have an ax to grind. Thats why they were chosen.

We were hoping his local knowledge would be of use.

It was. The house is perfect.

He was always a loose cannon.

We knew that going in.

Yes, we did.

Should we abort?

He thought about it. No way he goes to the authorities.

The authorities are not what he has in mind.

Something in the tone served as an alert. Is there a problem?

He took the rest of the accelerated material.

A longer silence ensued.

Could have been worse, I suppose.

Yeah, he could have taken the other.

And wed be booking flights to the Falklands.

A dry cough scratched the silence.

Can you find him?

I put a transponder under the front seat.

A judicious move.

Im an untrusting man.

Find him thenand see to it hes not going to be a problem.

The others say he was getting crazy. Wanted to start things going right now. Didnt want to wait anymore.

Find him before he does something stupid.

T he last moments of Carson Moodys life were silent. Surely, other conversations must have swirled about him in those final minutes. It was, after all, rush hour and the bus was full, but, as he so often did in public, Carson Moody had tuned it all out. His full lips moved as he listened to his inner voice run down the dessert column of the Alexis Hotels room service menu. Hed already settled on the Veal Picatta entree and was debating the wisdom of finishing with a nice crme brle when the gruff voice came rattling out of the overhead speaker. Pioneer Square Station, the bus driver rasped.

Pulled from his gastronomic ruminations, Moody reached between his legs, slipped his fingers over the handle of his briefcase and lifted it into his lap. As the bus silently slid past the white tile walls, he turned his eyes toward the window. His distracted gaze ran over the string of bodies standing in knots along the bus tunnels northbound concourse. He was still staring at this random assemblage of humanity when, as often happened in his pensive moments, he heard his mothers voice reciting one of the hundreds of homilies by which he primarily remembered her. If youre going to Rome, you might as well see the Pope, he heard her say and smiled. It was settled then. Definitely the crme brle. He stifled an inner chuckle. Couldnt tell Wendy about it though. Oh, no. Since last May, when hed been diagnosed with diabetes, shed become the food police. Ever vigilant. No excuses. Nothe crme brle was most certainly destined to remain his little secret.

Carson Moody got to his feet as the bus approached the center of the station. He used his free hand to smooth his overcoat. Satisfied with his appearance, he straightened his shoulders and turned his attention to the automatic doors directly across the aisle from his seat. Staring through the doors plastic ovals, his eyes were drawn to an elderly couple in bright black and yellow ski parkas. He watched as they hurried across the floor, toward the open mouth of the elevator. The old man raised a hand and mouthed a plea at the thirty-something guy standing inside.

Moody watched as the younger man reached out and pushed a button. Quite naturally, he assumed the young fellow was holding the doors open for the couple, a misconception which perhaps explained why he went slack-jawed when the sliding doors snapped shut and the green light began to rise.

As the bus slid along, Moody was forced to turn his head and watch the unfolding scene through the buss dirty back window. Watch the old folks shuffle to a stop. Watch the woman bring her hands to her hips and say something to the man. And then watch the old guy shake his tousled head in disgusted disbelief.

He was still watching the pair when he caught sight of a puff of smoke. Not smoke exactly. Something thicker. More substantial. In the artificial light, it looked for a moment like his boyhood in Iowa, when the afternoon breeze rustled the late summer dandelions and filled the air with squadrons of tiny white parachutes.