Zeke was awakened Sunday morning by the shrill ring of the doorbell coupled with someone pounding on the front door. He pulled on a pair of jeans before racing down to see who was there.

When he opened the door, Greg pushed past him, heading to the living room as if he'd been at the house before. All he said was, "He's dead," as he turned on the TV, scrolling through the channels to a local news station. Then he dropped onto the sofa, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Zeke watched in disbelief as the reporter interviewed the lead detective, Tom Calloway, about a body that had washed up on the banks of Cherry Creek, at the confluence with the South Platt River. In the background he could see the police on a sandbar across from Shoemaker Plaza.

"The body had been tentatively identified as a twenty-one-year-old student at Metro State," Calloway was saying. "We won't know positively who he is until we can talk with his family. Until that happens, we won't be releasing his name."

"Was it an accidental drowning?" the reporter asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say at the moment."

"How long was the body in the water?"

"Again," Calloway replied, "I'm not at liberty to say, or to answer any other questions pertaining to the death."

"It's Rory, I know it is," Greg said, his voice hollow with fear and grief. He scrubbed his hand over his face. "Sorry to bother you like this but I didn't know who else to turn to. It's Sunday, I knew you wouldn't be at work, so I looked up your home address in the white pages online."

"It's okay." Zeke sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Have the police contacted you?"

"No, though they tried. I just ... I can't talk to them. Not yet. I saw the story the first time it ran, an hour ago and had to get out of the house before ... " He shuddered. "Before I exploded and tore the place apart. It can't be him, can it?" He looked at Zeke, his expression full of hope.

"There's one way to find out. Call the police, or I can if you want."

"Please," Greg whispered.

Zeke made the call, and after being shuffled around was finally connected to Detective Tom Calloway. Zeke knew him, having shared information with him a time or two, with his client's permission -- when the client was connected to one of Calloway's cases, and vice versa.

"Now what, Zeke?" Calloway sounded tired, which wasn't surprising since according to the news the victim's body had been found in the early hours of Sunday morning.

"I'm working for Greg Sanford, whose brother is missing. He's with me, now, and he thinks the body found at the Confluence could be him."

"If by 'him' he means Rory Sanford, than it is. We didn't let that information out because we haven't been able to locate any family, so far. Let me speak with him."

Zeke handed Greg the phone and then went upstairs to finish dressing and give Greg some privacy. When he returned to the living room, Greg was staring into space and the phone was lying on the coffee table. He turned to Zeke, his face tearstained. "It's him. They found ID in his pocket. I have to go down to the morgue to ... to ... " He took a deep breath. "To identify him."

"Would you like me to come along?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

Zeke shook his head. "Not at all. I can take you if you don't feel up to driving."

Greg nodded.

The drive to the Medical Examiner and Coroner's Office was done in silence, with Greg gazing out the side window. Zeke had the feeling he wasn't watching the passing scene. When they entered the large, nondescript building, Detective Calloway was waiting and took them to the morgue where the ME greeted them. He led them to a viewing window.

"It's him, but ... Damn it what the hell happened to him?" Greg asked angrily.

"I can tell you what didn't happen," the ME replied. "He didn't drown. The majority of the damages were inflicted before he was put in the river."

"Why?"

"That's what we have to find out," Calloway replied before the ME could. "It's obvious he was badly beaten."