Six Seconds

Graham slid an envelope to Tarver who took several moments to collect himself.

“Do you know how it happened?”

“At this stage, we believe their canoe capsized in the Faust River.”

“And they weren’t wearing life jackets?”

“No.”

“I just don’t understand. Ray was so careful. When things were good, he’d taken Anita and the kids to Yellowstone. He was no stranger to the outdoors. For goodness’ sake, he’s an Eagle Scout.”

“You said, ‘when things were good.’” Graham was taking notes.

“Ray used to be a reporter with the Washington, D.C., bureau of World Press Alliance, the wire service.”

“What sorts of stories did he do?”

“He covered everything before moving to investigative features.”

Graham nodded.

“Then he began clashing with his editors. About a year ago he’d had enough and decided to try making a living freelancing.”

“How did that go?”

“It was rough. Anita was worried. He’d quit a well-paying job with benefits.”

“So there was stress in the home?”

“Some. Sure, over the money and for Ray quitting World Press.”

“So why not try to find another news job?”

“I think Ray always felt he was close to a big story, or a book deal. Until then, he was always borrowing money from us to pay the bills, always struggling, worrying about Anita and the kids. About six months ago, he took out extra life insurance so Anita and the kids would be okay, if anything happened to him.”

“Really? How much?”

“I think he said it was two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Means more premiums. How did he pay for this trip?”

“I loaned him the money for this trip. He told me they really needed to get away. He found a cheap package deal. I figured he was going to pay me back with the money he’d get for some travel features, which usually happened. It just took time.”

Graham didn’t voice his view that Ray came across as something of a contradiction. Here was a guy who was not a risk taker but had taken a gamble leaving his job. Ray’s father must’ve picked up on what Graham was thinking.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Corporal?”

“I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“You said it appears to be an accident, at this stage. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I’ve told you all we know. We just need to locate Ray.”

“Corporal, it’s hard to explain a life here. My son loved his family. For him, reporting was a quasi-religious cause. He worked hard on his articles, they were very good. In fact, I’d like his laptop returned to me as soon as possible. It would mean a great deal to me to read what he’d been working on.”

“Laptop? I don’t think we found a laptop.”

Graham flipped through the inventory sheets from the crime scene guys.

“He never went anywhere without it.”

“It’s possible we have it in an evidence locker, or the lab is processing it.”

“He had it with him when I took them to the airport for this trip.”

“I’ll look into it.”

Graham was certain no laptop was found anywhere with the Tarvers and spent the rest of the night on the phone to the lab and the guys in Banff getting them to search for it.

In the morning, Graham rose early and drove Jackson Tarver two hours west to Banff, then deep into the Faust region to the site. Jackson Tarver tossed roses into the river where his grandchildren, daughter-in-law and, most likely, his son had died.

That afternoon, Graham accompanied him to the airport and badged his way through to the gate where they watched three casket-shaped containers roll along the luggage conveyor and into the cargo hold of Tarver’s plane.

Before he boarded, Tarver took Graham’s hand and shook it.

“I heard what you did, how you risked your life trying to save Emily. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“I hope you’ll find my son, so that he can come home with his family.” Tarver’s grip was like that of a man fighting to keep from breaking into pieces. “Please.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Graham stayed at the window watching Tarver’s jet roll slowly from the terminal, turbines whining, running lights strobing, until his cell phone rang.

“Graham, it’s Fitzwald.”

“Fitz, did you find the laptop?”

“No laptop, but I did find something you should see.”

Twenty minutes later, Graham was at Fitzwald’s desk looking at a sneaker.

“We figure it belongs to Ray Tarver.”

Graham was puzzled; he’d seen this sneaker and its mate before.

“I don’t get it, Fitz, I’ve seen the shoes. They were in the tent.”