I’m glad Benji didn’t want to talk as we ran toward the river. I struggled to breathe so much that I wouldn’t’ve been able to say a word with the pace he was keeping.

He was leading me off the beaten track and we reached the big bend much sooner than if we’d taken the road.

When the sounds of the river splashing over rocks reached us, Benji slowed and began approaching with care. I followed.

He said, “Do you know on which side it was supposed to have happened?”

“No, he said he’d been sleeping and was disturbed by sounds at the river so …”

Benji pointed to his left. A bottle of Wild Kentucky bourbon was thrown on the ground at the edge of the woods.

He walked over and picked the bottle up. His brow wrinkled when he said, “Look, someone did lie here recently.”

The dead leaves were disturbed as if they’d been scooped together for a pillow.

Benji sighed and stood at the edge of the forest, looking at the river.

After scanning the water and the other side of the river, he walked to the shore. “You go upstream,” he said. “I’ll go down.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Anything that’s unusual. If it happened yesterday, there may not be much left, but just look for something that doesn’t seem right.”

“How far up the river should I go?”

“No more than a half mile. If you find anything, whistle loud. If you go that far and don’t see anything, head back here. Keep your senses sharp for my whistle as well.”

Benji went downstream and I headed up.