Deadly Currents by Beth Groundwater Page B

business and patrol the river at the same time.”
    “I’ll quit.”
    David took her hand. “No, you won’t. You weren’t willing to give up being a river ranger for Uncle Bill before. Why do it now when he’s not here to care?”
    Tears of frustration and guilt clogged Mandy’s throat. “Because I care.”
    David pulled her into his arms. “I know, and I’m sure he knows. But you shouldn’t give up your new career for a hopeless cause that has almost no chance of succeeding. Maybe we could sell—”
    Mandy’s groan of protest was muffled against David’s shoulder. She stiffened and tried to push him away.
    “Okay, too soon to talk about that. How about this idea?” He pulled back and looked at her. “Find someone to manage it through the rest of the summer. Then when things slow down, you and I can revisit the situation. Take the time to look at it logically.”
    “When I’m not so emotional, you mean.”
    “Well, yeah.”
    Mandy sat silently, staring out the back window at the equipment yard, looking forlorn and dilapidated in the encroaching gloom of twilight. She didn’t want to accept any of this, Uncle Bill’s death, the death of his business, the death of her dream of becoming a river ranger, the death of everything bright and sunny in her life.
    David gave her a few minutes, then asked tentatively, “You know anyone who might be able to help us manage?”
    “I guess we could ask the other outfitters.” The memory of her argument with Rob over stealing her uncle’s customers made her sigh. “Maybe Rob knows someone.”
    “I’ll talk to him. And I’ll come in here tomorrow to get a complete picture of the business, unless you want my help planning the memorial service.”
    “Oh, God. I can’t face that yet.”
    “We probably should hold it this weekend.”
    “This weekend?” Why isn’t that going to work? “Oh no, we can’t. FIBArk is this weekend. The Chamber of Commerce kickoff is Wednesday night. All of Uncle Bill’s friends and associates are involved with the activities.” As am I.
    “The First in Boating festival? What’s so important about that? Why can’t these people take a break from it to attend a memorial service?”
    “Because the river is their livelihood. And FIBArk pulls in way more rafting customers than any other weekend. It’s been the most important event in this town since the first race was run in 1949. Every guide and outfitter will be working their tails off when they’re not competing in races or volunteering. No way would Uncle Bill want us to interfere with the festival.”
    “His friends aren’t going to be in a very festive mood.”
    “They’ll put on a brave face for the tourists. And putting on a good show for the tourists is what matters. Uncle Bill knew that. I know that, and so do his friends.”
    “Okay, we’ll plan the service for next week sometime.” David glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, though. Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Are you going to stay home or come in here with me in the morning?”
    “I’m supposed to work.”
    “I’m sure you can call in sick.”
    Mandy suddenly itched to get out of this gloomy house, away from the morbid memory of finding Uncle Bill slumped dead over his desk mere feet away. She couldn’t face coming back and spending the next day here. Nor could she face being alone at home. She had to get out, get away, get on the river.
    “I probably could, but I need to go to work. If I sit around here or at home, I’ll just cry all day. I couldn’t stand that.” And Uncle Bill wouldn’t want me to. He understood my need to be on the water. The river thrummed in his blood, too.
    David stood. “Okay, let’s go.”
    Mandy began gathering up the papers David had printed. When she picked up the bookings sheet, a realization hit her and the sheet fluttered to the floor. “Whoever killed Tom King is responsible for Uncle Bill’s death, too.”
    “What?”
    “Don’t you see, David? The