Page 70 of Stormy Ride

“Okay, thanks for that.” Billy turned on the listening device and all they could hear was Amanda Hubbard banging around in the kitchen.

“If she’s cooking,” said Tammy, “then Chris and those killers might be coming home for dinner.”

“I guess that’s possible,” said Billy, “or maybe she just feels like a fried egg sandwich.”

Tammy laughed.

Milk River Bridge.

Endless days of rain had turned the placid Milk River into a raging torrent. The bridge was hanging by a thread, still connected by a few pieces of bracing on one end. The other end dangled precariously in the turbulent water, swishing back and forth in imminent danger of braking free and being swept away.

“Shit,” said Harlan. “Look at that fuckin mess. Never seen a washout before.”

We stood together on the side of the road looking down at the car. Sitting on the bottom of the river on its side, it was obvious the driver was gone.

Ted came along with the tow truck, took a look and shook his head. “No way I can hook onto the car, Travis. No way in hell to get to it until the water goes down.”

“Rain has to stop first and then it’ll take days to dry up after that.” I moved closer to see what kind of car it was and said to Ted, “Can you guess what kind of car it is? If we could get the make and model or see the tag, we’d know who we were looking for.”

“Can’t tell a damned thing from here,” said Ted. “And I don’t want to get into that freezing water. The current is moving so fast, I’d be swept downstream and never get out.”

“Where does the Milk River empty?” I asked. “I’m asking…like… where would a body end up?”

“Huh,” said Ted. “That’s a good question, Sheriff. Best if we had us a map. Or we could call and ask Joe. He knows the terrain around here better than anybody ‘cause he’s always on foot or on horseback and off the main roads.”

“I’ve got his number in my phone.” I pressed the number for the local game warden and Joe Erickson answered.

“Travis, what can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a body in the Mill River, Joe, and I need to know where it’s going to end up. It’s long gone from the point of entry at the Milk River Bridge.”

“Okay, let me think. The Milk is a tributary of the Flathead, and that river flows directly into Lake Elwell.”

“Great. Can you give me a hint where the Flathead enters Lake Elwell? I’m talking, north side, east…some place I can drive to.”

“Go to Shelby and turn south on the interstate. Go about two miles and take the ramp for Elwell Lake Road. That road follows the Flathead as it heads for the lake, and you might get a sighting of the body along there. Any idea who it is?”

“None. The car is in the Milk and Ted can’t get it out. We can’t see the plate on the car.”

“Right. Good luck, Travis.”

“Thanks a lot, Joe. I appreciate it.”

Elwell Lake Road.

Harlan and I drove up and down that muddy lake road in the pouring rain looking for the body. Every time we saw something that might resemble a floating corpse, we got out of the squad and checked it out.

We spent hours looking along the banks of the Flatonia from I-15 to the far end of Lake Elwell and found nothing. “That’s it, Harlan. We’re done for today. Somebody will find the body and call it in. Until then, we’re going home.”

Drenched and tired, I called Molly and told her we hadn’t found out who it was, and we hadn’t retrieved the body.

“You sound exhausted, Travis. Go home and try again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we have to call it for today, Molly. We need food, dry clothes, and half a dozen beers.”

Wild Stallion Ranch.

Tammy and Billy were home when we got there, the woodstove was kicking out a beautiful heat and Tammy was frying pork chops for dinner.

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