Today's Reading

"I was afraid that might have happened when I couldn't find him." She sounded like she was explaining why she had missed a sale at Cub Foods. "E. J. wanted to look at the boats and at the river. He liked boats and the river. I was waiting in the car for him."

The woman gestured at the SUV in the parking lot with the words E. J. WOODS TREE CARE SERVICES painted on the door. "I waited in the car because it was cold," the woman added.

"When he didn't return—I waited at least a half hour." She glanced at her watch as if to confirm the time. "When he didn't return, I went looking for him. I didn't find him. I feared the worst. I met you two. You were very kind. I'm grateful for what you've done."

Geez, lady, my inner voice said. Your husband just drowned in the St. Croix River. When are we going to see some tears?

"Did you call 911?" the woman asked.

"Yes."

"I'm grateful for that as well. It saves me the trouble. I guess there's nothing to do now except wait."

We didn't wait long. The woman spun toward the parking lot at the same moment that another black SUV pulled into the lot, this one with the name STILLWATER POLICE printed in white on the side. When she saw the vehicle, the woman moved away from us and sat down on the dock. She brought her knees up, holding her skirt around her thighs, and leaned forward, resting her face against her knees. After a moment, she uncurled enough to glance behind her. She watched a female police officer slide out of the SUV. The officer was dressed in full battle regalia, her long hair piled on top of her head. As the officer approached, the woman resumed her near-fetal position and began rocking side to side.

Okay, now this is really off.

The officer landed on the dock and started moving toward us. She stopped when she reached the woman, who was now humming unintelligible sounds filled with grief and sorrow.

The officer knelt and rested her hand on the woman's back.

"Ma'am," she said.

"My husband, my husband... He's gone. It's the marina's fault."

"Ma'am, what's your name?"

"Bizzy."

"Ma'am?"

"It's the marina's fault."

The officer looked up at me. The name tag above her left pocket read STOLL.

"Are you McKenzie?" she asked.

I nodded in reply.

"You found the body?"

I gestured at Nina.

"Both of us. This woman"—I pointed at her—"apparently, she's the vic's wife."

I purposely used the word "vic." It's a cop word, slang for victim. I wanted the officer to know that we were both on the same side.

"Show me."

Officer Stoll rose and I led her across the dock to the far end of the pier. She asked me how I had come to the marina.

"It's still off-season," she said.

I explained.

"Did you see anything?" she asked.

"Only the body," I replied.

I led Officer Stoll to the edge of the dock. She looked down, went to her knees as I had done, and looked some more.

"Wow," she said.

Wow, indeed.

"McKenzie, were you on the job?"

"Almost twelve years in St. Paul."

"Have you seen anything like this?"

"I didn't catch many drownings."

"I have. A couple, anyway. This is...the way he's hanging on to the ladder like that. Wow."
...

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