River Run (The Forensic Geology Series, Book 5) by Toni Dwiggins
Release date: April 10, 2019
Subgenre: Forensic thriller, Adventure thriller
About River Run:
There are plenty of ways to die in the Grand Canyon.
Forensic geologists Cassie Oldfield and Walter Shaws investigate one way: trouble on the canyon's Colorado River. Stranded raft. Life vests unused. Rafters missing.
The only clue to the fate of the rafters is a bag of pebbles caught by the bow line. Following that clue, the geologists uncover a hellish scheme. Not only are the rafters in peril, but the river itself is under attack.
The race to stop it takes Cassie and Walter deep into the canyon, and onto the mighty river, putting their own survival at stake.
► RIVER RUN is the latest adventure in the Forensic Geology Series.
"You gotta love a geologist that gets in this much trouble!" (reviewer)
► All books in the series are complete novels, and can be enjoyed in any order.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
“There's a
boatload of ways to die in the Grand Canyon,” the ranger said. “But this...” He
did not complete the thought.
I considered,
again, the scene in front of us.
The raft nosed
the shore of the muscular Colorado River. It had been caught in an eddy, pinned
by a tree branch, its trip interrupted, the raft itself abandoned. The beach
where we stood was lightly haired with brush and bordered by a steep cliff of
hard schist. The beach was unmarked, save for our own footprints and the
churned-up sand at the downriver end where the helicopter had deposited us.
There was no
sign of the rafters.
I yanked my
attention back to the frowning ranger. In our short acquaintance, National Park
Service Ranger Pete Molina had not once failed to complete a sentence.
“But this?” I
asked.
“This one's hard
to read, Cassie.”
“You talking
about the life vests?” I indicated the three vests stowed in the raft.
“Starting with
the PFDs, yes.” He added, “Personal flotation devices.”
I knew what PFD
meant. Life or death, it seemed. “If the rafters went into the river without
them...”
“Then they sure
made drowning easy.”
Pete Molina was
head of Search and Rescue, which gave him a lot of years responding to trauma
in the Canyon. He had a round boyish face that belied those years—tanned,
lightly weathered, thanks no doubt to that long-billed ball cap. He had already
impressed me with his vast knowledge of this river, this canyon, this
world. Born in the nearby town of Tusayan, a Grand Canyon native. This place
was bred in the bone, as he'd put it.
“Plus,” Pete
continued, “there's the strangeness with the bow line.”
I nodded. The
yellow line lay in a tangle at the bow. Plus, there was the zipper baggie
pinned under the bow line. The rock chips inside the bag were the reason my
partner and I were here.
My partner
Walter Shaws and I are forensic geologists: Shaws and Oldfield, Sierra
Geoforensics, home base in California's Sierra Nevada mountains. What we do for
a living is analyze earth evidence at scenes of crimes and crises. Thirty-plus
years on the job for Walter, well weathered. Ten-plus years for me, scrupulous
about using sunscreen but nevertheless carrying my own marks from the field.
Walter turned
from studying the raft, to the ranger. “Pete, what's your take?”
The ranger
considered. “To begin, the ignition key's in the off position, which means they
never started the motor. So let's begin ashore.”
Walter frowned.
“Here?”
“I doubt it.”
The ranger indicated the lack of unfamiliar footprints on the beach. “I'd say
the raft came from someplace upriver.”
“Runaway raft?”
I said.
“Yep, but not
like any I've ever seen. If the bow line just came untied from its anchorage,
it'd be trailing in the water.”
“So somebody
tossed it aboard.”
“Looks that
way.”
I glanced again
at the vests. “About the PFDs...do you get people who just don't wear them?
Careless, too many beers, whatever.”
“We do. But I
don't think this was a case of party animals.”
“Why?”
“Look at the
rigging.”
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