The man is so out of breath, he doesn’t raise his hands. “For God’s sake, don’t shoot! I’m the one who called the cops.” He gulps air, chokes on his own spit, and begins to cough.

Scowling, Tomasetti lowers his weapon, but he doesn’t holster it. “What happened?”

“There’s a fucking dead body down there!” the man chokes out.

Tomasetti’s eyes dart to the woods. Using his left hand, he shines the beam of the Maglite on the trailhead. Nothing moves. It’s as if the forest has gone silent to guard the secrets that lie within its damp and murky embrace.

“Is there anyone else down there?” Tomasetti asks.

“I didn’t see no one except that fuckin’ body.” He coughs, taking great gulps of air. “Just about gave me a heart attack.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Danny . . . Foster.” The man raises his head and squints at us. “Who’re you? Where’s Sheriff Goddard?”

I pull out my identification and hold it out for him to see. “You got your driver’s license on you?”

He straightens and, still on his knees, digs out his wallet and thrusts it at me with a shaking hand.

Tomasetti comes up beside me and glances at the wallet, then frowns. “What are you doing down there?”

“F—fishing.”

“At four o’clock in the morning?”

“Well, I gotta be at work at eight,” he snaps.

Tomasetti holsters his sidearm, and I do the same.

The man looks from Tomasetti to me. “Can I get up now?”

“Sure,” I say.

He hefts his large frame and struggles to his feet. He’s a short, round man wearing oversize khaki pants, a flannel shirt, and a fishing vest. From ten feet away, I see that his crotch is wet.

“What happened?” Tomasetti asks.

“I was fishing by that deep hole down there, about a quarter mile in.” Swallowing hard, Foster jabs his thumb toward the path from which he emerged. “I’d just put my line in when I noticed something on the bank, tangled up in some tree roots.” He heaves a phlegmy cough. “I thought it was one of them mannequins, like at the department store down there at the mall. I put my light on it and got the shock of my life. Scariest damn thing I ever saw.”

“You sure she’s dead?” Tomasetti asks.

“Her eyes were all fuckin’ glassy and looking right at me.” He blows out a breath. “She’s dead all right.”

Tomasetti digs out his cell phone, hits speed dial. I listen with half an ear as he explains the situation to Goddard and asks him to set up a perimeter with roadblocks around this part of the creek.

“What did you do after you found the body?” I ask.