Shock Wave

shore, towing a black metal box with wires dangling off the back.
    And Virgil laughed out loud with the sheer pleasure of being right. He shouted down, “That’s it, guys. Beer for everybody.”
    “You’re a good man, Virgie,” Retrief called back, and Frank said, “The paper’s gonna eat this up. I love this shit.”
    “Better’n pulling out a body,” Gretchen said. She climbed the bank, dripping river water, straining against the weight of her equipment, and handed the camera to Virgil.
     
     
    THEY ALL DROVE BACK to the scuba shop, where the divers took turns taking showers and rinsing down their equipment, including the camera and the console. When they were done, they walked down the street to Mitchell’s, a bar, carrying the recorder and camera. Virgil ordered beer, and when it came, called Barlow.
    “Hey, I got that camera and the recorder from the first trailer,” he said.
    “You got what?”
    “The camera and recorder from that first trailer, the one that was blown up.”
    After a moment of silence, Barlow asked, “Where’d you get them?”
     
     
    BARLOW GOT THERE in ten minutes, ordered a Coke, looked at the still-damp electronic gear. Virgil explained it all, and the grinning divers chipped in their bit, about finding the stuff in the murk—Frank had first found the recorder, and then a minute later, Gretchen found the camera—and finally Barlow asked Virgil, “How in the hell did you ever think of that?”
    “I was just thinking about this guy stumbling around out there in the dark, carrying all this crap, and whatever tools he had to break into the trailer, and I thought, Why would he take them home? Why not just get rid of it? Where would he get rid of it? He was walking right by this river, and he was apparently familiar with the area, with these deep pools. . . .”
    Barlow shook his head. “Dumb luck, that’s what it was.”
    “Ever notice how dumb luck seems to follow smart people around?” Retrief asked.
    “Where you’re gonna need the luck is, the recorder,” Gretchen said. “It’s been underwater for days.”
    “It’s a hard drive, and most of them are sealed units,” Virgil said. “I think we’re eighty percent for recovering the images. I’m more worried that he bashed it around than about the water. If he physically screwed up the disk, it’ll be harder to get at the pictures.” He looked at the case on the table. “It looks okay. He didn’t hit it with a hammer or anything.”
    “How long before we know?” Barlow asked.
    “I’ll get it back to St. Paul today,” Virgil said. “They’ll pull the unit, and take a look. If it’s not broken, we’ll have images this afternoon. Or tonight.”
    “That’s something,” Barlow said. “That really is.”
     
     
    “WHAT HAPPENED WITH SARAH ERIKSON?” Virgil asked Barlow.
    “She’s back,” Barlow said. “She’s pretty messed up, says her husband would never do anything like that. Wouldn’t know a bomb from his elbow, is what she says. She says she’ll come down and talk to us this afternoon. I’ll call you.”
    “I gotta go talk to the paper,” Frank said. “We oughta get a picture. I think they fired their only real photographer.”
    Gretchen demurred: “I don’t think I want this bomb guy to know I was involved. I live alone.”
    Frank said, “Mmmm . . . you could move in with me.”
    “No, I couldn’t,” she said. She looked at Virgil and lowered her eyelids.
    Retrief said, “Fuck ’im, if he can’t take a joke. You gonna be in the picture, Frank?”
    “I guess.”
    “Then it’s you, me, and Virgie,” Retrief said.
    “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Barlow said to Virgil.
    “I want him to know; I want him to feel me coming,” Virgil said. “I want to shake him up. At the moment, I got nothing else.”
    Virgil, Frank, and Retrief posed with the recovered camera and recorder, and Gretchen pushed the button on Frank’s cell phone and when he saw the photo, Frank said, “That’s a thousand dollars in advertising, right here.”
    “Really? That calls for another round,” Retrief said to him. “You’re buyin’.”
     
     
    VIRGIL TOOK THE RECORDER and camera back to the county courthouse and put them in a box, and Ahlquist dispatched a deputy to take them to the BCA labs in St. Paul. “Man-oh-man, this could be the break we needed. If his face is on that video, we got him.”
    “Keep your fingers crossed,” Virgil said. “Where do I go to see Sarah