I stared at the screen, my mind flashing through every second of the dialogue I had with Courtney Burke, the blood on her T-shirt, Celtic necklace she wore, the way she pushed her dark hair behind her ears, and those compelling and frightened eyes. Even in the picture of her on the television screen, her eyes drew you in to them. Kim looked at me, lifting her eyebrows, her face filled with questions. “Sean, do you know her, the girl they're looking for in connection with that murder of murders?”
“I don't really know her.”
“Oh my God. But you’ve met her?”
“Yes.”
“Where? What happened? Maybe I don't want to know.”
6
The sun had been up from more than an hour when an African-American woman, on her way to teach school, saw Courtney Burke walking on the side of the road through the Ocala National Forest. She slowed to a near stop, looked at the girl through the open passenger-side window and said, “Sweetheart, you okay? Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
During the long night, Courtney had walked more than twenty miles, staying off the road when she saw headlights in the distance, reappearing and walking on the shoulder of the highway after the car or truck had passed. Exhausted, she had fought with mosquitoes and almost stepped on a cottonmouth water moccasin at daybreak when she stopped to pee behind the brush within a few feet of the river that ran along part of highway. Courtney stopped walking, looked at the woman behind the wheel and said, “I’m fine, thank you.”
The woman, early fifties, touch of gray in her hair, took in Courtney from head to toe. “I don’t believe you’re fine. I believe you could use some help right about now. You’re a sad looking site, girl. Now get in the car before you make me late to teach my third grade class.”
Courtney nodded, bit her lower lip for a moment, and got into the car.
The woman said, “Sweet Jesus, looks like the bugs had a field day with you. Maybe I ought to take you to the DeLand Medic-Clinic. You can get something to help with the swelling.”
“I’ve been mosquito bit before. I’ll survive.”
“I don’t doubt that. Looks like you have been walking all night. What happened? Did you get in a fight with your boyfriend and jump out of the car in the middle of nowhere?”
“No.”
“Well then, you picked a fine place for a walk. This forest has a history, and it’s not too good.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Then why on earth are you way out here, child?”
“Tryin' to find somebody.”
“Who's that?”
“Just somebody from my past.”
“I understand.” The woman drove in silence, driving under boughs of live oak branches stretching across the highway, sunlight poured through the limbs and thick leaves in funnels of gold. A white-tailed deer, a doe, less than twenty feet off the highway, stood and stared. Then the doe ran through a shaft of light, like an apparition caught in the burst from the flash of a camera.
The woman smiled and said, “I see that mama deer at least twice a week. I know it's the same deer ‘cause of the diamond-shaped white patch on her throat. I feel sorry for the poor thing. Her baby, a spotted fawn, was hit by a car a couple of months ago right back there. I think that young mama is still in mourning for her baby.” She glanced over at Courtney. “Tell me, child, where's your family, where's your mama?”
Courtney folded her arms and stared out the front windshield, her face filled with masked thoughts, the mottled sunlight capturing the vivid color changes in her eyes. “She's dead.”
“How about the rest of your family, do they know where you are?”
“I always wanted a real family, but that never happened. The only one who ever gave a shit about me was my grandmother.”
“Does she know you're here?”
“No. She's pretty sick.”
“Call her. Let her know you're alive and you're okay.”
“I left my cell back at—” Courtney paused and turned to the woman. “Why do you care? I don't mean to come across rude, but I don't see much hope in people.”
“I care because you're hurting. It's plain as the skeeter bites on your cheeks. There's a lot of hope, lot of love in people. You'll see it if you look for it.”
“What I see in many people is dark stuff. Mean stuff. They try to hide it, but it's there, right under their skin, flowin' in their blood.”
“Who hurt you so bad?”
Courtney was silent
The woman nodded. “What's so heavy on your mind? I don't want to sound forward, baby, but are you pregnant?”
“No, and I'm not a baby.”
“And you're not all grown up either. My name's Lois. What's your name?”
“Courtney.”
Lois stopped at a crossroads, turned right, and headed toward DeLand. She said, “Are you hungry, Courtney?”
“Not really.”
“Do you have any money?”
“A little.”
“I have an idea.” They entered the town of DeLand, turning onto New York Street. Lois slowed her car down in front of a red brick building and said, “I have twenty five third graders waiting for me about five blocks from here, and I'm late. I have to get to class.” She gestured toward the old building, green ivy heavy on one side. “This is the Good Samaritan Clinic. You can get help in there. My friend, Carla, runs it. Tell her Lois Timbers sent you. They're great, caring people. You can get anything from a shower to a hot meal, even a bed. Okay?”
Courtney placed her hand on the door handle, started to get out of the car, and watched a police cruiser drive slowly down the street. She turned back to Lois and managed to smile. “I'm feeling a little sick now.” Courtney lowered her head down.
The woman glanced from Courtney to the police cruiser that had turned right at the next street. She asked, “What happened to you? The police are looking for you, right? Why?”
7
Lois Timber's cell rang in her purse. She reached for it and answered. After a few seconds, she said to the caller, “I'm sorry I'm running late. I had to give a friend a ride to town. Yes, I'll be at the school in a few minutes. Please see if Carol can watch my class until them.” She looked at Courtney. “Whatever's happened to you, you need to go to the authorities and tell them. Don't run.”
Courtney nodded and blew out a breath. “You wanted me to call my grandmother. Do you have a phone I can use for a second?”
“Absolutely. This is worth me being tardy to my own class.” She lifted a cell phone from her purse.
Courtney took it, opened the car door, and said, “I won't take long. Just need to make the call in private.”
“I understand.”
She stepped out of the car and into the shade of a large pine tree next to the sidewalk. She punched numbers and waited. The morning turned warm, a mockingbird called out from the tree, the smell of fresh-cut grass in the air. The voice of an older woman said, “Hello.”