BURYING ZIMMERMAN (The River Trilogy, book 2) by Edward A. Stabler Read Free Book Online Page A

two highly respected landowners, developers,
and benefactors. So Drew was mourned as a friend and neighbor but
also as something like a hero. By sacrificing himself to kill
Garrett, he had removed a potential predator from our midst.
    But as I thought about Bullard's narrative
during the days that followed, questions gnawed at me. And they all
involved Henry Zimmerman.
    First, was Henry even present that night? I
concluded that he must have been, because Drew wouldn't have tried
to apprehend Garrett by himself.
    Once they met at the trailhead, why did Drew
and Henry leave without me? Was Drew trying to protect me, as
Bullard implied? Did he consider me a liability? Maybe Henry
convinced him I wasn't needed. But could they really have forgotten
that I had Drew's handcuffs? Maybe Henry brought a pair of cuffs
himself!
    Assuming that Bullard had the first part
right – that Drew and Henry confronted Garrett at the door with
guns drawn, why was Henry sent back to get me? Bullard implied that
Drew might have suspected Henry would warn Garrett about the
fingerprinting, then let him escape. But I wondered whether Drew
had an agenda of his own. One that required he be left alone with
Garrett.
    Why put Garrett in the cellar? Surely Drew
could have had him stand in a corner on the main floor, and Garrett
wouldn't have been able to run without taking a bullet or two at
close range. Granted, the cellar gave him no chance to flee. But it
had obviously been a fatal choice, because Bullard was right –
Garrett had kept a loaded shotgun down there.
    What if Henry knew that? What if the entire
premise of that night's visit was false, and its real purpose was
to give Garrett an opportunity to shoot an armed intruder in
self-defense? If so, it hadn't worked out as planned for Garrett.
But maybe it had worked out just fine for Henry.
    What had Henry expected or wanted to happen
that night, and what would have been different if I'd been there?
Those were the questions that nagged me during the weeks after
Drew's death. As the autumn wore into winter and Henry failed to
materialize, the nagging receded. I researched academic programs
and, after consulting with my parents, decided to apply for
admission to the University of Texas, where I hoped to study
archaeology or anthropology. Maybe Austin was far enough away from
Cabin John. I sat for the entrance examinations in Washington and
was relieved to hear weeks later that I'd been admitted.
    But the questions about that night never
disappeared entirely, and twenty-two years later, I want Henry
Zimmerman's answers tonight. And I want to know how his
relationship with Gig Garrett changed after Jessie's death, and
during his stint with Garrett in the Yukon.
    If after all that, Henry still felt loyal to
Garrett in 1902, why pretend otherwise to Drew?
    And if he didn't, why leave Drew alone with a
killer?

Chapter 6
    The lamplight glows in Captain McDonald's
lonely house as I pass by on River Road, but I'm too far away to
hear signs of life. The road to Sandy Landing is just ahead. I turn
left on the rutted track that follows a trickling gulch down to the
canal and the river, and make sure I remember what Henry Zimmerman
heard about me from my niece Isabelle, who met him at a speakeasy a
few days ago. The story that Zimmerman expects to hear again
tonight sounds like this:
    I'm Tom Owens, here to buy heroin for my
wife, who suffers from debilitating muscle pains. She used it once
and found that it provided relief, but the pharmacist from Santa Fe
who offered it to her closed his shop and disappeared. Since I was
traveling east, I asked my niece if she knew where I could find
heroin near Cabin John. She got your name from a friend of a
friend, so I'm here tonight with a hundred dollars to
spend .
    Except that once we're seated across a table,
I'll tell him the truth. I'm Owen Thompson, and we met thirty-one
years ago when I was eight. He and my brother Drew rescued me from
a mine. And now I want him to