Again, I find myself writing for a competition and again I find myself a little disappointed. I submitted this piece to The Novelry in hopes of being a finalist. Obviously, all tens of thousands of writers who submitted also had this hope.

Because the competition period is over, I am now able to share this story with you. For those who have read FONO, this is a completely different vibe. Written in the third-person POV of a grown man, I really pushed my writing limits trying to put myself in the shoes on Eli Reynolds.

Let me know what you think of this snippet below. Should I run with it and continue with a standalone thriller/mystery?

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What the Marsh Knows

by E. E. Nelson

Empty. 
Like his insides had been scraped out and he was walking flesh and bone.
Human remains of what authorities believe to be a young boy, possibly those of 9-year-old Oliver Reynolds, who has been missing since last week.
If Eli Reynolds had a heart, it’d be beating. But it stopped four days ago when he found his son floating in the Potomac.

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            Something crunches under his foot.

            Fuck.

            He lifts his left shoe to find broken glass spattered about the front doorstep. Bent stems of a floral arrangement with a Thinking of You card soaked in water lay below him.
He doesn’t enjoy these, even a week ago when his world was flipped upside down. Two weeks ago, when he’d sit on the floor of his son’s room, staring at his empty bed as if he’d materialize. The cards and the flowers and gifts were like everyone exhaled all at once.

            We knew he was dead. Now we can say it.

            He kicks the broken shards of glass off the steps and slams the door behind him.

            She’d hear the door if she wasn’t in a drug-induced slumber. His phone would ping with an annoyed text. But it remains as silent as their house as he makes his way to his cruiser.

            He can’t really blame her. There’s no right way to process it. No right way to grieve. Every time she looks as him, there’s blame in her eyes. Blame for what, though? That he wasn’t there to save him? He holds onto that too. Ollie went missing at day camp. “A Field Trip Gone Wrong.” That was one title of an article that splattered the front page. Went to the bathroom and never came out. They still haven’t found the man who took him.

            Eli’d been placed on a mandatory sabbatical, so as much as he needed to keep busy, he wasn’t allowed back at work. Instead, he finds himself driving straight to the Dyke Marsh Wildlife Preserve, continuing his own investigation into what happened to his son.

            Eli barely bends down, about ten yards from where Ollie was found, when his phone rings.

            “Right on time,” Eli mumbles into his phone, continuing his examination of the ground below him. He’s checked here a thousand times. The police checked here. There was barely any forensic evidence to be collected. The water washed away anything from Ollie’s body, and it had rained the week before—hard. The ground was soggy, creating a sucking sound every time any one of them glopped around in their muck boots canvassing the area.

            “It’s my job,” a deep voice from the other line says. “As annoying as it may be.”

            With the ground being so saturated, something could’ve been missed. Buried in the mud and left unseen. Eli ordered a metal detector that will be here this afternoon, but what if what he was looking for wasn’t metal? He had to explore every avenue, regardless.

            “I know, Dad.”

            A comfortable silence envelops the two men, miles apart, yet sharing the same emotions. A cool breeze sweeps up, emitting an odor of fresh water and decomposition. The city hasn’t cleaned up this stretch of water since the budget cuts, leaving it littered with plastic bottles and wrappers of sorts. Piles of fallen leaves sit along the water’s edge, feeding into the smell.

            “How’s Leena?”

            He’s not looking for a happy answer. That’s why these calls didn’t bother Eli.

            “Sleeping—finally.”

            A Virginia rail clicks. Eli’s eyes search for the bird instinctively.

            A heavy sigh comes from the other line. “Eli…”

            Anger boils in Eli. He never used to be so quick to anger, but his and Leena’s fight last night, her drugged sleep, the sympathy flower vase this morning, and the fact that his son is dead is too much. It’s all too much.

            “I’m just trying to find out what happened to him!” he shouts at his father.

            Bill Reynolds pauses. “You’ve got your crew on the job,” he starts slowly, easing into it. “You’ve got the best goddamn folks out there doing the best they can for Ollie.”

            “What would be best for Ollie would be sitting up in his room complaining about what his mother’s making for dinner instead of a watery fucking grave…”

            Eli trails off, his voice catching in his throat. There they are. The tears. They’re meaningless. They won’t find Ollie’s killer. They won’t bring him back.

            But they don’t stop.

            “I gotta go, Dad,” he chokes.

            He hangs up before his dad can respond and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

            The sick part of Ollie’s discovery here is the significance of the location. This was Bill’s go-to spot for taking Ollie. Him and Ollie were close, spending nights camping in the backyard, exploring the woods, and learning about various plant and wildlife species. Bill had dedicated most of his career to being a ranger, living and breathing the outdoors, and sharing his passion for nature with Ollie.

            Anyone close enough to the family would’ve known that. Is that why they picked this as his body dump?

            Eli mentally scans a list of people to check in on. Ollie wouldn’t have wandered off with a stranger. He knows all parents say that when they’re questioned, but it’s true. Ollie may have been wild and adventurous, but he was shy and smart. He was so smart. Didn’t they follow a buddy system with bathroom breaks? Why weren’t they doing their job?

            He kicks the ground in anger—in pain—as another tear escapes his eye. Whoever fucking did this to his boy would pay, that he was sure of.

            The ground had dried a little since last week’s rain, but it was still soft, the rust-colored runoff of the clay ground still moist. They butchered the crime scene. Try as they might, they couldn’t get the tent up soon enough, and even before they did the ground was covered.

            The call came across the walkie when the body was found. Eli’s partner, Officer Glenn Foley, knew better than to stop him. They drove straight to the scene, and Eli’s worst nightmare had come true. It was his boy, but they wouldn’t let him touch him. He couldn’t move him. They said he didn’t want to see him like that, anyway.

            “Remember him how you do in your head,” Foley said, like they say to every other goddamn parent grieving the loss of a child.

            But Eli just wanted him out of the water. He was bobbing with the waves like a fucking buoy in his red jacket.

            That. That’s how Eli sees Ollie now.

            The image flashes in his mind once again, prompting him to shake his head hard, as if he can shake it right out, and continues on his search.

            A twig snaps nearby and Eli whips his head toward it.

            Even though the marsh is open, the recent discovery has inadvertently kept park goers away. Eli feels like he’s in his own world here, and as pathetic as it may seem, he feels closer to Ollie here. Something about this place holds the answer he’s seeking, and he’s determined to find it.

            Another snap pulls Eli from his head again. He starts to feel a prickle on the back of his neck, like someone is watching him.

            “I’ve got a loaded weapon!” he shouts to the air.

            His hand instinctively goes to his holstered weapon. Even off-duty, he can’t break old habits.

            He starts circling toward an overgrowth of tall, dead grass, feeling exposed.

            Pulling his weapon out, he holds it in his right hand, his left spreading a patch of grass.

            His phone rings loudly in his pocket.

            “FUCK!” he exclaims, stepping back.

            A siege of herons flies from the grass. Eli grabs his phone with his empty hand and slams his finger, answering.

            “Chief,” he answers, his heart racing rapidly in his chest.

            “Hey, Eli. I’m going to need you to come down to the station.”

            “I’m on sabbatical, remember?”

            He can hear the humming of the comings and goings of the station. It’s soothing in a way. The phones ringing, people talking, doors opening and shutting. Life doesn’t stop at the precinct.

            “Yeah, I remember. I need you down here for something else.”

            Eli drops his arm, turning his back to the grass.

            “What’s going on, Chief?”

            “Just…Get a good lawyer, Eli. And get down here quickly before anyone knows I tipped you off.”

            Eli’s anger surfaces again. “For God’s sake, what the fuck is going on?”

            “I’d like to ask you the same thing!”

            Is the force watching him search the river? He’s in his right to do so. It’s no longer an active crime scene.

            “We got the surveillance footage from the park. You better have a damn good explanation.”

            Eli’s heart skips a beat. They found Ollie’s killer.

            “Explanation for what?”

            Something doesn’t feel right.

            “Why the fuck you’re on camera going in the bathroom after him.”