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think it circled the field and somehow carried off a six year old child before the boys returned?” Andy asked skeptically. “What about a bear?”
    Murphy grinned at his best officer. “Oh, I see. You question my scenario of a dog but would have me believe no one would notice a bear? Besides, bears don’t howl.”
    â€œThey leave nice prints though, which we have none,” Andy smiled.
    Murphy paced in front of the crimson puddle where a small brush lay in the blood. “Whatever it was, I hope this is animal blood and she’s safe. Let’s get some volunteers to search before it gets dark.”
    He walked to the fence separating the field from Phillips Street and addressed the crowd. “We have a missing six year old girl, Cathy Collins. She may have walked off in the company of an injured animal. I am requesting volunteers to assist in a search of the immediate area.”
    All but two elderly women came forward, spreading out to begin a slow walk along the field toward the river.
    â€œSing out if you see anything,” Murphy called out from behind the line of searchers.
    â€œAndy, go back to the office. Tell Keith where I am and what’s going on. Then get Red saddled and look along the river up to the swamp, and be careful.”
    He was not sure why he told Andy to be careful. He was a good cop, on the force for a number of years and knew the area inside out. Perhaps it was the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach from his wife missing, now a young child; it did not sit right.

    * * * *

    Andy returned to the police office where Officer Keith Madden had desk duty. Andy informed him of the missing child, the Chief’s whereabouts and that he was taking one of the department horses named Red north along the river to search.
    In certain cases, a patrol car would just not do so the department maintained a small stable containing two Cumberland Bays. Both horses were invaluable in the search for lost hunters, hikers and like today, a missing child.
    Andy’s fiancée, April had given him a saddle as a birthday gift and he thought how special she was every time he saw it. One day they would marry and have a hundred kids, at least one to bear his name and one to carry hers. Andy and Red departed the stable. They headed north until the sun began to fall under the western hills.
    After a few miles, Andy rubbed his tired eyes from leering at the mud and soft earth where marshy bogs of the swamp met the river.
    â€œLooks like we’re not going to find anything up here.” He stroked the horse’s neck. “Let’s head back along the opposite bank.”
    He pulled lightly on the reins and turned Red toward the town. The sun now touched the tip of Deacon Heights, slowly falling from the sky. Shadows formed along the river’s edge and fell across the water onto the opposite bank. Andy noticed a few lights flicker on in the town along with the street lamps on Phillips Street.
    Without warning, the horse reared and tossed a startled Andy into the water. He stood quickly, confused, angry and soaking wet as Red galloped away. Andy suspected he would find him feeding comfortably from his oat supply but it was a long walk back to town. He wondered what spooked the horse. Then he heard the noise.
    Andy drew his revolver, walking slowly under the overhang of a willow. On the opposite bank lay a clump of bushes, a fallen tree trunk and a group of rocks where the river lapped gently against them.
    He heard splashing–perhaps a muskrat or a deer crossing to the other side? Andy squinted, looking into the deceiving shadows for the noisemaker. Then he froze. The tree trunk was not where it had first been. It moved to the middle of the river toward him, against the current.
    â€œWhat the…?” Andy whispered, pointing the revolver at the figure rising from the water. Its eyes penetrated the darkness, finding his.
    The revolver shook in his grasp, the wet