“You poke around here and you’re likely to be blown in half?”
“Lots of graves out here, too,” the other man said. “They’d never find yours.”
Palmer nodded. He’d seen so many of their types in lock-up. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just got out of San Quentin after serving forty years. All my life I’ve dreamed of hunting for treasure. I’d heard this forest is full of history. I thought I might buy something to eat from you all. I’m ‘bout to turn into jerky I’ve eaten so much of it.”
Both men studied Palmer. The man with the shotgun gripped it tighter. Palmer held his breath, tightened his abdomen muscles like they might deflect buckshot. His heart beat so hard it hurt. A bumblebee landed on clover between him and the men.
The man with the gun said, “Go on and get the fuck outta here. Don’t ever come back. We’re just out camping. Nothing else. You got what I’m sayin’?”
Palmer nodded. “Got it.” He turned and walked back in the direction he came from, any second anticipating buckshot to tear a hole in his body wide enough for daylight to pass.
EIGHT
The Red Clover Restaurant was a converted old southern gothic home on the fringes of the antique district in Sanford, Florida, about twenty miles north of Orlando. Bright red bougainvillea grew up one side of the building. The grass parking lot was large enough for a dozen cars. Only one, the same Ford Escape I saw in the Walmart lot, was there. Max and I walked to the door, pink impatiens and purple lavender bordered the path, the sweet scent of magnolias in the air. A blue butterfly darted around the flowers. Wind chimes tinkled from the limb of a mimosa tree.
As I opened the door, Max trotted in the restaurant like she had a reservation. “Oh my god!” came the high-pitched words from Molly Monroe who untied the apron around her waist and bent down to pet Max. “She’s adorable. What’s her name?”
“Max.”
“Hi, Max. I’m Molly.” Max almost nodded, her nose picking up the smell of baked bread. When Molly smiled, I could see her mother’s smile.
“Well, hello,” said Elizabeth, stepping out from behind a counter lined with pies and cakes. Max ran to her. “So you’re Max. It’s nice to meet you. I hear you have a thing for cheese. I have some aged cheddar. Do you like that?”
Max snorted.
“No begging, Max,” I said as Elizabeth picked up a pot of coffee and Molly brought a whole pie and a plate of cheese to a table.
“Please, have a seat,” Elizabeth said. She cut the pie, placed a single piece on each of three dishes, poured the coffee and sat down.
Molly lifted a small slice of cheese. Max stood on her hind legs. “She’s precious. Will she catch it?”
“It’ll never hit the floor,” I said.
Max caught the cheddar in a snap and swallowed it before Molly could sit down. Molly smiled and asked, “If she’s a girl, why’d you name her Max?”
“My wife named her Maxine. After Sherri died, I reduced it to Max.”
“The name seems to fit her personality,” Elizabeth said.
I took a bite and sipped the dark roast coffee. “Excellent pie.”
Elizabeth beamed. “I’m glad you like it. Thank you so much for coming. I thought it important that Molly hear any suggestions you have.”
I nodded. “The best advice is to be aware of your surroundings. Be cautious. Watch where you park. Keep an eye in your rearview mirror to see if you’re being followed. Try to do things in pairs. But don’t become obsessed or a slave to fear.”
Molly picked at her pie with the tip of a fork. “This is so, like, weird. This crazy man coming out of nowhere.”
I said, “Unfortunately, it happens. Can you recall ever seeing him before?”
“No.”
“Maybe here in your restaurant, a customer. He’s someone who would keep to himself. He might bury his face in a newspaper when he’s eating. You’d catch him staring at you. Lingers a little longer than most after he’s finished eating.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “That describes some of the customers we get. But, like Molly, I haven’t ever seen that man in here. Molly only works in the restaurant when she’s home from school.”
I sipped the coffee as Molly handed Max a second piece of cheese. “What are you studying at college?” I asked.
“Botany and entomology. I work in the butterfly rainforest lab at school. It’s a perfect place for butterflies, predator free. Lots of flowers and vegetation in a world that looks like a giant aviary for butterflies. In the lab, we raise and release butterflies. With the changes in our environment, my teacher says they are today’s ‘canaries in the mine.’ We’re open to the public. And we post our butterfly release days online.”
Elizabeth said, “They’ve been successful at reintroducing rare, almost extinct butterflies back in the wild here in Florida.”
Molly nodded. “We raised and released some Miami Blues down in the keys. These are like the rarest butterflies in Florida. And they’re soooo beautiful. I’m going to have a chance to release some atala butterflies in the Ocala National Forest.”
I smiled. “My old house is across the river from one part of the forest.”
“Well, if you see any dark blue butterflies with a red tummy, remember to shoo them back toward the forest. They can only survive by laying their eggs on one species of plant called a coontie. It’s like a primitive fern.”
“Coontie, never heard of it.”
She smiled. “Lots of people haven’t. They used to grow wild all over Florida. Development has made them scarce. It’s like the only plant the atala can lay its eggs on because it’s the only plant that its caterpillars can eat. The atala is even rarer than the plant. But we did find a lot of them growing in the Ocala National Forest, so that’s where we're doing a release soon.”
“Who are we?” I asked.
“Me and my boyfriend, Mark. He’s studying biology. We had kind of a creepy experience there recently.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we were scouting the forest for coontie plants. A ranger gave us directions to some places where we could find them, but we could never find them there.” She glanced at her mother for a moment. “We sort of got lost… I mean like really lost. After a while, Mark and I were convinced somebody was following us… no, more like they were stalking us. We did find the coontie plants and took lots of pictures of them and the area so we could remember things to get back there.”
“Did you see anyone follow you?” I asked.
“No, but I swear I could feel it.”
Elizabeth said, “Molly’s very insightful, a true free spirit and often more perceptive than you’d think for someone her age.”
Molly smiled and said, “I can tell you are, too, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Please, call me Sean.”
“Okay, Sean. I can tell you’re somewhere beyond insightful, as Mom calls it. I’ll bet you can come close to reading thoughts.”
I smiled. “I’m not so sure I’d like that. It’s more fun to discover things.”
Molly cut a small piece of cheese. “Can Max have more cheese? I don’t even think she’s blinked.”
“Sure, maybe one more piece.” Max caught it and licked her lips. “Your boyfriend, Mark, has he noticed anyone following him?”
“I don’t think so; at least he hasn’t said anything. He’s on a short vacation with his family.” She paused and looked at me, not moving her head, only her big doe eyes. “Can you read my mind… tell what I’m thinking?”
“I think you like Max.”
“I do. But that’s not what I’m thinking.” She grinned. “I think my mom likes you. Maybe it’s because you’re now our hero.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, her face flushing and said, “Sean is here to give us some advice on how to handle this situation.”