Today we rejoin Skip on the search for the body of Mateo Ortiz in the river. If you want to revisit the first part, here it is. And now, back to the river…

Bubbles appeared on the surface of the otherwise still river. The bubles intensified and the neoprene-covered head burst above the surface followed by a diving mask and breathing mouthpiece. The diver eyed the closest shore, oriented himself, then rotated until he caught the eye of the Sheriff on the opposite bank. The diver shook his head negative, then dove back under the surface.

Skip sighed, then raised his radio and keyed the transmit button. “My divers are coming up empty,” he said, looking down river towards the bend and in his mind stared further down towards the dam at summer crossing. “Are your waders doing any better?”

Silence for a moment, then Andy’s voice came across, “Negative, Skip. We’re about 5o yards up from the dam and moving up.”

“Okay, Andy, thanks. Let me know if you come up with anything.” Skip would have preferred the waders further up towards him, but he knew if they were any closer they’d stir up the river and turn the divers’ already murky water completely opaque.

Ahead of Skip another head broke the surface of the water, shook his head at Skip and then dipped back beneath the green water. Skip removed his wide-brimmed hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief and replaced his hat.

“Another warm one, eh Jack?”

Skip smiled at the voice. “Lousy day for fishing, Timothy,” Skip said without turning around.

“No fishing today,” Timothy held out his empty hands in front of his King’s Sporting Goods t-shirt. “I’m here for the circus today. Besides, your guys stirring everything up probably has all the fish scared halfway to Healdsburg by now.”

“Can’t be helped. Trying to do a job,” Skip snapped.

“Whoa, Skip, I know it can’t,” Timothy said. “You doing okay?”

“Sorry, Timothy,” Skip rubbed his eyes. “Had a shitty night’s sleep, that’s all.”

“Shabaikai,” Timothy said quietly.

“No goddamn river ghost,” Skip growled, crossing further down the bank to get a better view towards the waders.

“Where’s the limp from, Jack?”

“Twisted my ankle getting out of bed.”

Timothy cocked an eyebrow at him. “Mind if I see?”

Skip stared hard at Timothy for a long moment. “Fine. Sure,” Skip said, pulling up his pant leg and folding his sock down over his boot to reveal the two, dark, quarter-sized bruises.”

“Oh shit, Skip,” Timothy said, “You got bit!”

“So what does that mean?”

Timothy slowly shook his head back and forth, “I’ve never seen that mark on someone breathing.”

Skip absorbed the statement for a moment until they were interrupted Skips radio crackling to life. He stared at Timothy while he raised the radio, “This is Skip. Come again.”

“Hey Skip,” a woman’s voice came across washed out by machine noise, “Julie here. We’re over Austin Creek checking on a grow site. Want us to buzz the river when we’re done here?”

“Yeah, Julie,” Skip replied, turning towards the river. “That’d be helpful.”

“Roger that, Skip. We’ll be there in probably… ten minutes.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

“Nothing today, Skip?” Leslie asked poking her head into Skips open door.

“Nothing today.”

She nodded. “Need anything?”

“Not unless you can do this paperwork for me,” Skip smiled.

“Fat chance,” she laughed. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks,” she said, disappearing.

Skip growled under his breath out of frustration. A frustration, he knew, outsized from the situation at hand because Skip knew that more often than not these drowning victims wouldn’t be found in the first 24 hours, and often not even in 48 hours. The body from the drowning last month stayed under for four days. One of the bodies last year ended up stuck on a rock down by the outflow at the dam and didn’t come up for over a week. So why was he so tense today? Lack of sleep? He thought about his conversation with Timothy earlier. Shabaikai. No, just a bad dream, he thought.

“Hey Skip, are you going to the candlelight vigil?”

Skip shook himself out of his own head, “Yeah, yeah, Leslie. When is it?”

“Supposed to start in about ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? It’s not even dark…”

“It’s almost 7, Skip,” she replied a little concern creeping into her voice.

“Seriously?” He verified with watch. “How’d time get away from me?”

“You looked a little out of it,” she told him frankly.

He sighed heavily, then got up started pulling on his jacket.

“Are you sure, Skip?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be good for me to meet with the family.”

Half an hour later, Skip stood on the bank of the river in nearly the same spot he was in earlier in the day watching the family and friends of Mateo Ortiz holding candles in the gathering darkness, singing hymns, and crying. He was heartened to see his deputy Eddy tight in with the family. When the group finally started to break up, Skip made sure to shake the hands of everyone present. Eddy stood close and translated Skip’s words to Mateo’s wife. Skip spoke serviceable Spanish, but was grateful for Eddy’s fluency.

“Are you coming to the potluck at Saint Hue’s, Skip?”

“I don’t think so, Eddy. Are you?”

“I was planning on it.”

“Good,” Skip said, patting him on the back. “Thanks, Eddy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the last light gone, Skip waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He moved down closer to the water. The moon, just off full, reflected off the still river. From the clearing of the beach, Skip turned upriver and admired the surrounding forest bathed in moonlight. Behind him he heard splashing of footfalls in the shallows. Turning, he saw a figure moving towards him through the shadow of an overhanging tree.

“Hello?” Skip asked.

The man didn’t reply. He came out of the shadows and the moon bathed his familiar face in the silvery light. Skip recognized Mateo Ortiz instantly – his features unmarred by the drowning.

“Mateo,” Skip started, “hablo Ingles?”

The man looked at him then nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said.

“Do you know where you are?”

Mateo thought for a moment, then looked around him. “In the river.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

Again, Mateo thought for long seconds, looking down at the water. “I chased a ball… then…” he looked up, meeting Skip’s eyes, “my leg was grabbed.”

“Grabbed?”

Mateo nodded slowly as the water behind him began bubbling violently, the luminescence of the moon on the water brightening unnaturally. Before Skip could warn him, the head of an enormous snake rose out of the water behind Mateo. Made of water, golden glowing eyes like embers, fangs dripping with water, the serpent lunged forward hitting Mateo in the torso and driving him over into the water.

“Mateo!” Skip yelled, reflexively drawing his gun as the man disappeared beneath the water and the unnatural glow dissipated and the splashing stilled. Silence fell again on the river and on the shore.  Skip stared hard at the spot trying to process what he just had witnessed. He heard a splash across the river. A fish, he thought. Then another splash a little further down. And another splash. Skip looked up and saw a figure across the river splashing slowly towards him. Up river, another splash and Skip turned to see another figure on his bank splashing slowly towards him.  Behind him another splash much closer. Skip spun, again drawing his gun, and came face to face with the bloated, drowned face of Mateo. He didn’t speak this time, but opened his mouth and uttered a baleful moan. Skip staggered backwards in the sand, managing to keep his presence of mind to holster his gun and reach for the flashlight on his belt. He turned it on, shining it at Mateo’s drowned figure and revealed nothing but water. He turned the beam towards the figure upriver and the yellow light fell on sand and disturbed river. Across the river the beam shone on the trees that came down to the waterline.

“What the hell?” Skip tried to catch his breath as he climbed to his feet. Again, he shone the light around him along the banks. Nothing. He backed away from the water towards the line of trees separating the beach from the clearing, parking area, and the road.  He didn’t turn his back until he reached the trees where he finally turned and started hurrying towards his Explorer. Behind him he heard a high plaintive cry: “Mis hijos!”