Page 33 of The Girl in the River

Mia Norman

Ellie swallowed hard. There was no doubt that Mia had been afraid of something – or someone.

FORTY-ONE

MOSQUITO COVE

Cord hated mosquitos. The damn insects were the bane of his existence during the humid summer years back when he’d had to live in the woods in order to survive. Night after night he’d swatted and slapped at them, rubbed natural herbs over his skin to ward them off, and clawed at the bites that covered him.

This place, Mosquito Cove, was known to house the biggest insects in the area, and at night they clogged the air in clusters so thick you could barely see your own damn finger in front of your face. The muggy heat and the weeds choking the riverbank bred them just as the river bred the cottonmouth water moccasins that slithered through the tangled weeds and vines. This was their home and the tourists were invading it. They defended their territory and fed on unsuspecting flesh.

He sprayed his arms, ankles and even his socks, then patted his cheeks with the stinking stuff, hiking along the path to the cove where the rescue and recovery team had been dragging the river.

Water crashed violently as the current carried debris from storms and visitors downstream.

The sun shone hot and bright, reflecting off rocks and toads sunning on lily pads.

Voices sounded from ahead, and he picked up his pace, waving off flies and gnats circling his eyes. He slashed at the overgrown brush choking the land, climbed over a fallen tree and trudged through the muddy sections until he reached the riverbank edge.

There, he found an SAR team standing over a whiskey barrel. “Over here!” one of them called out.

He broke into a sprint and crossed to them, breaching the clearing by hacking away another cluster of weeds and briars.

“Chopper spotted it and thought we should check it out. We haven’t opened it yet,” Milo, his coworker said.

Cord zeroed in on the find. The whiskey barrel was stuck in the mud.

He approached cautiously, a knot of fear seizing his gut. This area was about eight miles directly downstream from Magnolia Manor, where Mia had disappeared.

Was Mia’s body inside?

FORTY-TWO

BABBLING CREEK RANCH

With a frown, Ellie contemplated the message Mia had left in the envelope.

A breeze stirred, bringing the scent of honeysuckle and farm animals. Behind them, Emily’s boys shouted, the sound of the basketball hitting the goal post echoing over and over.

“Mia made plans for her daughter,” Derrick said in a low voice.

“She did.” Ellie’s mind raced. Why leave this to her and not Mark or an attorney?

“What does it say?” Emily asked.

Ellie folded the page and slipped it back into the envelope. “She asked me to take Pixie to a couple named Jo-Jo and Seth Pennington. Do you know who they are?”

Emily massaged her temple with her fingers. “No, she never mentioned them to me.”

“I know your counseling services are confidential,” Ellie said, emphasizing her earlier comment. “But if Mia mentioned someone she was afraid of, you have to tell us.”

“I would tell you,” Emily said. “But she honestly never said anything. She mostly talked about her fear of the water. Apparently, her parents died in a boat accident when she was young and it traumatized her.”

“Maybe Pixie knows who these people are,” Derrick suggested.

Emily bit her lower lip. “We’ll have to ask her. But she might be overwhelmed if we all go in together.”

“I’ll wait in the car and dig into the Penningtons,” Derrick said. “Mia may have had contact with them through email or her phone.”

---