The Lifeguards(22)
It hurt. It hurt so much.
Look away and it will go away. Salvatore made himself stand up, walk away from his puddle of anguish and toward the crime scene.
Barton Hills Drive was packed with cars on this 90-degree day: everybody wanted that feeling of flying through the air on the rope swing, letting go at the perfect moment and smashing into the water below.
And there was the usual chaos surrounding a murder: radio and print journalists, television news anchors (their heads shaking at a “senseless loss of life right here on our Barton Hills greenbelt”), concerned neighbors, rubberneckers, even local politicians wanting to attach their “tough on crime” sound bites to the latest grisly headlines.
* * *
—
SALVATORE, NONDESCRIPT IN PLAINCLOTHES and sunglasses, kept his head down. He made his way along the steep trail to the creek, ducking off the marked trail. The body had been found at a relatively unknown swimming spot surrounded by cliffs. There was no public parking near this place, so it was used almost exclusively by people who could walk from their homes along the greenbelt—in other words, neighborhood kids. Salvatore’s team had blocked the scene of the crime with yellow tape, but had not released the location.
Salvatore tried to get into his mental tunnel. His job was not to discover the why. He was here for the what. If he had learned anything, it was that spinning a narrative before gathering all the facts was a mistake. He needed to focus on what had happened to his Jane Doe. (And, OK, who the hell she was.) All he knew was that she’d ingested opioids and ended up with her lungs full of water…but on land.
He’d always loved the canopy of trees, how it morphed as he descended to the creek bed. The light on the leaves changed by the hour—neon, noontime greens fading to otherworldly purples by nightfall.
This was no country club, though; it wasn’t sanitized or safe. People had drowned down here; people had been murdered. Even as the houses around the greenbelt had changed hands from old hippies to Silicon Valley refugees, the trails remained open to everyone. Many Austinites wouldn’t go near the greenbelt. It was intimidating—if you didn’t know your way around, you could wander in circles. Phones didn’t always work down here. The greenbelt might have been the one remaining place in Austin where you could get lost—where you could stay lost. Trails shifted with storms, and waterfalls appeared and disappeared. Sometimes, the turkey vultures winging overhead felt menacing.
When Salvatore reached the water, he crouched down. This secret swimming hole could be reached from two official greenbelt entrances: Spyglass Drive (you parked behind Tacodeli) and Gus Fruh (you parked on Barton Hills Drive). But you could also get into the greenbelt via hidden trails, or by bushwhacking a trail yourself. There was no saying how the victim had arrived here or why. She’d likely swallowed pills, gone swimming, and then…what?
Salvatore scanned the muddy bank, looking for footprints, for anything that didn’t belong. He was in the tunnel. The sun played across the water. He saw minnows under the surface, a large turtle on a floating piece of driftwood. And then…at the far end of the swimming hole…something that wasn’t right. He narrowed his eyes. A black object was half-submerged in mud; he could see why the previous team had missed it. It was probably nothing, trash. Still, he scanned the bank.
There was no way to hike to the spot.
Salvatore took his pager and phone out of his pockets and placed them on the ground. He dove in, propelling himself across. He saw a set of footprints, and in the shadows, so covered with mud it was almost invisible, a kneepad, like the one you’d make a kid wear skateboarding, or biking. Salvatore hauled himself out of the water and examined the pad. A small tag gave him his first clue:
IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO:
CHARLIE BAILEY
1308 OAK GLEN AVENUE
AUSTIN, TX 78704
-14-
Barton Hills Mamas
HIKRGURL
OMG, Mamas! I was trying out my new Burley D’Lite bike trailer and there was lots of action when I rode by the Gus Fruh entrance to the greenbelt. I slowed down and saw six uniformed cops gathered around something. I’m scared.
COFFEEISLIFE
Oh, no. Do you think it was a body? Also—unrelated—is the D’Lite worth the splurge?
HIKRGURL
No, it wasn’t a body. Something small—a guy in normal clothes was showing the cops something in his hands. I should have snapped a pic. I don’t know what it was. An animal? Jesus.
***And YES! My husband almost killed me when he saw the $850 charge but the D’Lite is awesome.
PACIFICHEIGHTS4EVER
I will head over to Gus Fruh with the triplets now to see what I can find out. I bet it was drug paraphernalia…needles, pipes…Always was in San Francisco~
COFFEEISLIFE
Ha, maybe you should change your name, @pacificheights4ever! Don’t blame you, BTW.
PACIFICHEIGHTS4EVER
Sigh. #truth. Guess I am @pacificheightsuntilIgetmuggedinbroaddaylightandthenImovetoAustin
COFFEEISLIFE
Ugh, I’m sorry. Let us know what you find out by Gus Fruh.
-15-
Whitney