Herb Kowalsky left the front row. He looked around fifty, his gray hair cropped close to his scalp. Low and tight, my brother Ben would have called that haircut, and it fit Kowalsky, for he had the demeanor of a former military man. He wore a dark, stylish suit you could tell had been tailor cut. He wasn’t much bigger than Phillips, but he walked with the confidence of a man who expected to dominate any situation. He stepped behind the lectern and took a few moments to look the crowd over. You could tell he was used to speaking to people, even more used to people listening, which was to be expected of a man who was vice president of Minnesota’s largest savings and loan.

“I want to thank Mr. Phillips for calling this meeting,” he said in an accent more urban Northeast than Midwest. “I’d have liked it called sooner, but there’s no reason to go into that now.”

I glanced at Allen to see if he was taking notes. He wasn’t, but the tape recorder’s red light was on. He’d placed his palm in front of the recorder, as if to conceal it.

“The point is this,” Herb Kowalsky said. “I’ve tried it Oconee County’s way for three weeks. This county’s search-and-rescue squad, this county’s divers.”

Kowalsky looked in the back corner where Randy and Ronny Moseley stood, TAMASSEE SEARCH AND RESCUE SQUAD printed on the front of the faded ball caps they wore. They were twins, though not identical. Ronny was six feet tall and long-limbed. He’d been a good baseball pitcher, good enough to get college scholarship offers, but, like his brother, he’d chosen instead to work in his family’s orchards. Randy was similarly built, though not as tall or athletic. While his twin played baseball, Randy had learned to scuba dive. He was still in high school when he began helping recover bodies for the Search and Rescue Squad. Even then people said he was the best diver in the county.

“I was told Ruth would be out of that river in a day. Then it was a week. It rains and I’m told it’s too dangerous, and two more weeks pass. I think it’s time you people backed off and let the experts take over.”

“Quite the diplomat, ain’t he?” Billy said, not bothering to lower his voice.

I looked at Randy and Ronny, their caps creased in the middle and pushed back at the same angle, arms crossed right over left. Their faces, brown already from weeks in the orchards, revealed nothing as they stared back at Herb Kowalsky.