Chasing The Dead

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The woman’s nude body lay faceup on a narrow sandbar in Rock Creek. Her head and torso were cushioned in soft mud jutting out from the edge of the bank. September moonlight flattened against her pale skin, her sightless eyes open and as cold as the lunar gaze. Long black hair fanned out from her face. A gold crucifix was embedded flat against her skin just above the swell of her bruised left breast.

She looked like she’d fallen from the sky. Her arms were flung away from her body, forearms dangling like broken wings. Her legs were flared out from her waist, all four limbs resting in the shallow water on either side of the sandbar.

Jared Bell stared at her. She reminded him of Ali. He knelt and stroked her cheek, letting his hand find her breast, his fingertips curling around the crucifix, prying it loose as a diamondback snake slithered out of the water and across her belly, disappearing downstream.

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