The Thieves of Faith by Richard Doetsch Read Free Book Online Page B

horrible fashion. “Listen, the Bennett brothers are up in Maine for the week and we’ve got no one else to dive that deep.” He let his unasked question hang in the air. “And, Paul, if we wait until morning the press will be here and God knows they’d be drooling and disrespectful. I don’t want to see the poor souls pulled from the water on the morning news.”
    Busch had known Captain Delia twenty years now. They were never close but held a mutual respect for each other dating back to their beat-cop days watching each other’s backs.
    “If there was anyone else I could have called…”
    When Busch was on the force, he was the lead diver and handled the department’s boat whenever it was needed. He much preferred it to his usual police and parole work but the need for a marine unit was slim to none; he could count on one hand the number of times the boat was called out. “I’ll be down there in five. Do me a favor, though.”
    “Name it.”
    “Call Michael, tell him to bring his gear and meet me there.”
    Delia said nothing, the moment hanging in the air. Busch expected the reaction, as he always did. Michael had been one of Busch’s parolees and they subsequently became best of friends. It was Busch who flew off to help Michael on a job in Europe, a deed that stood in contrast to everything Busch stood for. But Michael was his best friend. When Busch had returned to the States battered and bruised, Delia looked for any excuse to throw Michael in jail and Busch along with him. But Busch stood by his friend, swearing to his innocence. Delia let it slide, out of deference to Busch’s years of service, but still held a deep suspicion of Michael.
    “Cap, you know I can’t dive alone,” Busch said.
    “I know.” The police captain relented with a sigh.
     
     
     
    Michael and Paul waded out into the reservoir, giant klieg lights sixty feet above on the bridge illuminating the waters around them. The bridge was blocked off from both sides and covered in emergency vehicles. There were no witnesses to the accident, but the thirty-foot-long skid marks ending at the section of missing guardrail left an obvious question mark.
    Michael had driven over the four-lane bridge thousands of times, enjoying the placid view of the wide-open waters ringed in thick forests. It had always offered a respite for him on troubled days, but now…As he looked at the moonlit waters, he knew it would never provide that solace again. He couldn’t stop imagining the car plummeting downward, its passengers screaming in terror for help that never arrived.
    Paul and Michael each wore a full complement of summer diving gear: single air tank, mask, fins, a buoyancy control vest. They each carried a knife, compass, dive bag, and large underwater high-intensity light.
    “I haven’t swam here since, God, it must be twenty years.” Michael looked up into the blinding klieg lights above as they kicked out. A small crowd had gathered on the bridge, watching in suspense.
    “And he thought we’d never work together again.” Paul waved to Captain Delia, who was on the shore with his deputies, an EMT, and an angry look on his face. “It had to kill him to ask for your help.” Paul adjusted his regulator. “What did he say?”
    “He said the only reason he was calling was he needed your help and, as a result, you needed my help. And not to infer that he was asking me for a thing.”
    “And…?”
    “I said, ‘What if I say no?’”
    Paul smiled. “Then…”
    “He told me to piss off and slammed down the phone.” Michael smiled ear to ear as he spit in his mask, rubbing the saliva about in the lens. “This is one way to cool off.”
    Paul and Michael tried to keep their humor up in preparation for what might lie ahead; it was a way to keep them focused and still their minds to deal with the eyes of the dead that they might momentarily be facing.
    They swam out to the car’s estimated point of entry into the lake, checked each