I hadn’t found him, but I’d certainly found something. What in the world was I going to tell my sister?
I was about to leave when I remembered the napkin with the phone number I’d shoved into my pocket. I pulled it out and held it next to the champagne flute that matched one of the cigarettes. The rosy red phone number to the 19th Hole Lounge was written in exactly the same shade of lipstick.
_____
Outside on the front porch, I let my eyes adjust again to the dark. Beneath a waxing moon, there was light enough to see the sabal fronds beginning to shudder in a gusty wind. The temperature had dropped. A storm brewed. Silvery clouds swollen with rain scudded across a black sky.
A limpkin screamed from a nearby creek, raising the hairs at the back of my neck. No matter how many times I heard the wailing cry of the bird, it always gave me a start. Not for nothing did early Florida settlers call the limpkin the Crazy Widow.
Rustling sounds came from all around the dark landscape. It might have been the wind; or maybe wild hogs. Between the mournful bird and the imminent storm, I was feeling uneasy. Soon, the weather wouldn’t be fit for man or beast—or woman, either. I had planned to look around for signs of Kenny. He might have parked the truck somewhere else on the property. But the thought of tramping through the dark woods in a pounding rain didn’t hold much appeal.
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with Kenny once I found him. Where would I start in trying to unravel the story of that scene inside the camp-house? I needed to think about the best way to extract the truth from him. I decided to head for home, a good night’s sleep, and a chance of staying ahead of the storm.
The breeze picked up. Leaves skittered over the tops of my boots. The wind changed direction. I smelled rain coming, and something else: the acrid odor of cigarette smoke.
I was not alone in the woods.
twenty-nine
I hurried to my Jeep, stumbling a bit over the rough ground. The wind gusted harder. Still, I could smell the cigarette. It was probably just a hunter, settling in for a smoke before the rain began. But something about this whole episode at the camp hadn’t set right with me. I didn’t intend to stick around to find out exactly who was puffing away on Kenny’s isolated property in this lonely stretch of the county.
Grabbing the handle, I flung open the driver’s side door. My fingers scrabbled nervously at the waistband of my jeans, where I’d tucked my keys. They slipped from my hand, jangling to the floor. I bent to find them, just barely catching a reflection moving across the passenger side window. In the same second, my brain recognized it as an aiming dot, and I heard the loud crack of a rifle. I ducked my head as a tree limb shattered to my left. Leaves and chunks of bark rained onto the hood of my Jeep.
Hand shaking, I retrieved the keys and jammed them into the ignition. The engine clicked, but didn’t kick over. I cursed my reluctance to spend money on a new battery. Still slumped low in the seat, I turned the key again. The Jeep started. The relief that flooded through me was short-lived.
Another rifle shot split the air. A new branch burst, this time to my right. Chips of wood dinged off the fenders. A scatter of leaves clung to the windshield. Still ducking, I hit the gas. The tires spun in the sandy soil, and finally grabbed. Backing over the ant hill, I swept the steering wheel in a wide circle. Straightening the Jeep, I thrust it into drive. Peering up and over the dashboard, I spotted the rifle’s aiming dot dancing above the tree branches.
A third shot sounded just as I made it to the potholed driveway. Whoever was shooting had aimed very high. No storm of foliage followed the last shot.
Still, I hunched low in the seat, taking no chances. Toward the end of the tree tunnel, open space appeared ahead. The paved road was within sight. I hung a wide right off Kenny’s property, jouncing over the shoulder onto the pavement. Just as I made it, the first fat drops of rain slapped against the Jeep’s roof.
My eyes searched the rear-view mirror, but I saw only darkness behind me. What in the hell had happened? It was either a hunter with appalling aim, or a marksman aiming to intimidate. I swallowed; took a deep breath. My mouth was desert-dry. The thumping of my heart echoed in my ears. My hands were so tight on the steering wheel my knuckles ached.
I was beyond intimidated. I’d been terrified. Now I was ticked-off.
_____
My mood hadn’t improved much by the next morning. Mama was pouting. I would not concede a point. It wasn’t pretty.
“Well, I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Mace. It’s just a tiny bit out of your way, and it sure means a lot to me. Any other daughter would be happy to give her poor mama a ride to work.’’
“You happen to have two other daughters. Why didn’t you call them?’’
Mama stuck out her lower lip. She punched the scanner button on the radio to find a Christian music station.
“Hey, I was listening to that!’’ I punched it back to country.
“You are sure in some kind of snit, girl. Who licked the red off of your candy?’’
I didn’t want to tell her my foul temper might be a result of being shot at—or at least thinking I was being shot at. I couldn’t be absolutely certain about last night. Was it the most inept hunter in the county? Maybe someone held a weird grudge against trees. Whatever, it felt an awful lot like the series of shots was some kind of message meant for me.
If Mama knew what I’d found at Kenny’s camp, let alone that I was alone out there on the wrong end of some moron’s target practice, she’d throw a fit. My stomach churned when I considered how easily those shots could have ripped into me instead of the trees. I shook off the thought, and returned to picking at Mama.
“I’m just saying that old convertible of yours is in the shop so much maybe you should get rid of it. You should have dumped it after you found the body in the trunk.’’ I glanced over, my face deadly serious. “Maybe it’s cursed!’’
Mama snorted. “You know I don’t believe in that supernatural mumbo jumbo. It’s against the Bible.’’
“So what is it, if not a curse, that you’ve stumbled upon dead body after dead body ever since?’’
Silently, Mama took out her lipstick. She turned my rear view in her direction. Surely the base was stripped by now. She Iced, then smacked her lips a couple of times.
“I’ve just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, honey. Several times.’’ She kissed a tissue to blot off the excess. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve found all the bodies stashed in the back of my convertible.’’
We were both quiet for a moment. I thought about the dead girl in the dump. Mama must have, too, because she asked, “Has Carlos found out any more about Camilla?’’
“Nothing he’s said to me. You know how he is when he’s working a case.’’
I eased to a stop on Main Street, at one of Himmarshee’s two traffic lights. She tilted the rear-view mirror back toward me. It showed me a narrow slice of the left rear window and the top of the driver’s side seat belt. Sighing, I realigned it. As the light turned green, I eased into the intersection with U.S. Highway 441.
“By the way, I did try Maddie and Marty before I called you for a ride to Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow,’’ Mama said.
“So I wasn’t your first choice? Imagine that.’’
“Marty had a doctor’s appointment bright and early. Maddie never picked up. That girl is avoiding me for some reason. I don’t understand it.’’
“Maybe she’s sick of hearing about how you hate that yellow dress.’’
Mama cut her eyes at me.
“What’s the problem with Marty?’’ I changed the subject. “She’s not sick, is she?’’
Mama waved a hand. “She and Sam are ready to have kids. Marty wants to have the doctor check her over, make sure she’s in good health.’’
I nearly swerved off the highway. “Kids?! What? How come nobody told me? This is big news.’’