“There are still some old rotten wood picnic tables out there. Should we have lunch there?”
“Sure, why not?”
Sam didn’t mind getting her sneakers wet, and the slimy stuff seemed to work well against the insects. “Avon Skin-So-Soft,” she told him as he followed her out of the boat, carrying grocery bags. “Help me spread out this comforter. The tables look as if they haven’t been used for a long time.”
They laid down the comforter she’d brought—thicker than a sheet, but unlike a fuzzy blanket, it wouldn’t pick up all the twigs and grass when they left. “You do have to be careful out here—snakes!” she reminded him.
He nodded, helped her, then stretched out on the blanket. Snakes, hell, yes, but it sure was beautiful. They were surrounded by pines on a small spit of high, dry land. The trees rustled, and he could hear the forlorn call of a bird. The sky above him was powder blue, lightly dusted with clouds. Sam began to set out their food and drinks. Teddy came by, grabbed a beer, and went back to check on his fishing gear. After a moment Sam stretched out beside him. Her hair was back in a ponytail; she wore little makeup and especially that afternoon she seemed as natural in her beauty as the surroundings.
“My dad loved to come out here when I was a kid,” she said. “Teddy’s family were really considered farmers back then, living way out here.”
Rowan thought she would go on, but she lapsed back into silence. A large bug flew near his face—before deciding it didn’t like Skin-So-Soft—and flew away. Rowan was idly watching Teddy fiddle with his fishing pole when Sam blocked his view, rising up on an elbow to study him with grave eyes.
“Marnie never mentioned you to me. She must have known for some time that you were buying that house. But she never once thought to warn me—”
“Maybe she didn’t see me as someone you should be warned about.”
She flushed. “Oh, you’re very dangerous. Apparently, she just wanted you for herself. What is it, I wonder? Are you simply a pied piper? With everyone Marnie had, she wanted you. My own cousin would readily throw me beneath your feet to be near you. Even the neighborhood sea cow throws us all over to be near you and… and Gregory says your name when he barely knows you. What do you think it is?”
He lifted his hands. “Pure seduction!” he said, mocking himself.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. Gregory never says my name.”
“You believe that I could have something to do with Marnie—”
“No, I was just wondering why Gregory kept saying your name like that.”
He rolled toward her, both irritated and amused, then paused when he saw the look in her eyes. She was serious, very serious. “What do you want me to say? That I’m some kind of a demon, that I’ve special powers?”
“Of course not.”
“The kid probably connects with me because I connect with him! Listen to people like your ex-cousin-in-law, our great swamp escort over there, and he’ll tell you that kids like that are slow. He doesn’t see them as real people, he doesn’t understand—”
“And you do?”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“How?”
“What does it matter?”
“It’s something.”
“Yeah, well, maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
He exhaled in frustration. “I told you long ago that I’d had a brother who died.”
“Yes, as a child, but you didn’t tell me—”
“I told Dina about him once, and she was horrified. She told me I had convinced her that we should never have children.”
“My God, that’s horrible, what could—”
“They thought that Ewan was autistic—new term to us back then—because it took him so long to talk. Then he had an operation. He could talk; he was very bright. But the defect that had damaged his vocal cords had damaged other organs too. His heart was too small, his thyroid was bad. He grew like a miniature hunchback, and he endured years of torture from his classmates before he died. But I was his brother. I always understood him, even when he couldn’t talk. So maybe this kid just senses that I’ve had some practice with seeing inside, I don’t know. I know that my brother was deformed on the outside, but he was a better soul inside than anyone I’ve met since.”
He stopped abruptly, wondering what had brought on such a long speech. It should have been sweet and simple.
I had a close relative who had problems, so perhaps I’m more attuned to the difficulties of such children.
Her eyes were shielded, her thick lashes falling over them. “I suppose that’s true enough. What Dina said to you was cruel—no one really knows yet what causes autism. It may be genetic, it may not—and it might have been a combination of genes. And yes, a child like Gregory is a responsibility, but he is also a wonderful little human being with every right to life.” Her eyes flew open, meeting his. Then she flushed and sat up, quickly trying to lighten up. “God, it is a spectacular day. And they say we don’t have seasons here! It’s a perfect spring—”
“Now you tell me something,” he said, pinning her with his gaze. “Why were we at a strip joint the other night?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to see—”
“Sam, come on—the truth.”
She inhaled deeply. “The women who have disappeared— Marnie, Chloe Lowenstein, that young secretary—they all had associations with that place.”
“Did you tell Teddy about this?”
“No, not yet. I learned this in confidence. Well, and the thing with Chloe might not have even been real. There was a rumor that she liked to disguise herself and, er, get down and dirty, I guess.”
“You stay away from there.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sam, really.”
“Rowan, it’s not like I was ready to apply for a job myself, but still… Hey, Teddy!” she shouted suddenly. “Let’s eat these sandwiches and start fishing. I don’t want to be here when it turns dark, okay?”
“Why not?” Ted asked, grinning, putting down the pole he’d been rigging to come over to their picnic area. “Afraid of the creepy crawlies?”
“Turkey, salami, or tuna?” Sam asked, ignoring him.
“One of each. I’m starving,” he said. He seemed relaxed out here. Watching him, Rowan thought that he really did love the Everglades.
“You really like it here,” Rowan commented out loud, accepting a sandwich from Sam. Odd what people remembered. He preferred turkey. She’d handed him a turkey sandwich on wheat, light mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato, and a slim wedge of Swiss cheese.
Teddy grinned, chewing, then talking. “Yeah, I do. It still feels like you can get away from it all out here. Of course, things were different years ago. When we came out here when I was a kid, it was really like being at the end of the earth. There used to be more canals—and the gators would get into them, and the snapping turtles—”
“The gators get into the canals often enough now,” Sam said.
“They’re just natural predators, and they help to keep the balance in nature. They feed on the weak and the slow.”
“And children and pets, when they get in the developed areas,” Sam argued.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have developed those areas,” Teddy said.
Sam sighed, eyeing him sideways. “And maybe we were so concerned about the gators that we went a little too far, and they should be hunted more often!”
Teddy smiled at her, enjoying the fight. “They’re such perfect predators!”
“One would think you deal with enough predators,” Sam said sharply.
Teddy grinned again. “Ah, but these guys are different.”
“They just look evil,” Rowan offered.
“They do, huh?” Teddy, surprisingly, agreed. “Those dark, beady eyes. Just at the water’s edge. Those jaws…”
“Speaking of which,” Sam commented quickly, “look across the canal over there, toward the other hammock. There’s at least seven of
them sunning on that embankment.” She shuddered. “Maybe we should get going now, don’t you think?” She started picking up the sandwich wrappers, stuffing all their trash back in the paper bags to go with them—there was no garbage pickup out here.
“Sure,” Teddy said. “Hey, Rowan, want to see the hulk of a burned-out cabin?”
“Why not?” He grimaced at Sam, stood up, and offered her a hand.
“I’ve seen plenty of the cabins—standing, halfway torn down, burned down. Go with him, get him moving. I’ll get the last of this stuff picked up.”
Rowan went over to where Teddy was standing. There wasn’t much to see. Nature reclaimed her own quickly. The base of a structure remained, little more, a few burned logs here and there, now encrusted with vines and roots. “Watch where you walk—you can run into some mean rattlers out here.”
Rowan did watch, wondering if Ted Henley had invited him along in hopes that he would step on a rattler. But Teddy seemed different out here, more like a big kid than a city homicide cop.
“Hey! Are we fishing, or what?” Sam called. She was standing at the water’s edge, by the boat. Their grocery bags, repacked, were in it, along with the ice chest.
Five minutes later, they pushed off from the hammock. Sam was still watching across the canal where at least half a dozen alligators had congregated. Rowan felt strangely as if the gators were watching them back. The dark eyes seemed to follow their every movement.
“Don’t worry, they have a natural food supply out here,” Teddy said, amused.
“I wasn’t really worried—you weren’t planning on pushing me in, were you?” Rowan said. He’d taken the seat next to Sam. He leaned forward, grinning. “I’d damn well take you with me, you know.”
Teddy grinned. “Yeah?”
“You bet.”
“Guys!” Sam groaned. “Are we fishing or not? How about that little lagoon area over there, Teddy? I don’t think we’ve ever been in there, have we?”
Teddy revved the little engine and twisted the tiller. “Looks good!”
He motored over, killed the engine. “Here?”
“Here,” Sam agreed.
Keeping low in the boat, she expertly baited her line and cast it into the water. The men followed suit. They all started off basically paying attention, but as time passed, they sprawled out more in the boat, finding comfortable positions against the cushions.
“So you’ve always lived here?” Rowan said.
“Always.” Teddy nodded toward Sam. “Just like Sam. And Laura. And their families. We were kind of pioneers. Well, our folks and their folks were, at any rate.”
His voice had a friendly tone to it—and yet a strange warning note. As if he were saying, We belong here. You don't.
“Scotland,” Teddy said. “Cold there, huh?”
Rowan shrugged. “Yeah, a lot of the time.”
“Hey, you know, tell me—do you really like bagpipe music? I mean, you know, after a while, doesn’t it start to sound like a million cats wailing?”
Rowan lowered his baseball cap so that it better shaded his eyes. “I kind of do like the pipes, though I’m not a great player myself.”
“Will you two shut up?” Sam said. “We’ll never get any fish.”
But just then Rowan had a good solid tug on his line.
He gave it a jerk, securely hooking the fish. Then he let the creature play out the battle, encouraged by the other two.
A minute later, his fish was in the boat.
“A beauty,” Sam applauded.
“A little small,” Teddy commented.
“Small, my ass,” Rowan contradicted him. Teddy grinned, not arguing.
Five minutes after that, Sam sat up sharply.
“You’ve got something?” Teddy asked.
“Something…”
“Well, did you hook it?” Teddy asked.
“Yeah… but it’s not fighting.”
“Well, damn, then, you’ve got bottom!” Teddy said.
“No, I haven’t, I know when I’ve got bottom. Ted Henley, I’ve been fishing since I was a little kid, I know what I’m doing.”
“Then bring it in.”
She shot him an evil glance, then frowned and began to work at her line again. Rowan leaned forward to help her. She grimaced. “I seem to have snagged onto a tree limb or something floating… I guess I should just break the line and start over.”
“Here, let me see the pole for a minute.”
Rowan took her fishing pole, reeling in, trying to get a feel for what was on the other end. He couldn’t loosen the hook; it was solidly caught in something.
He brought in more of the line.
“I see it. I’ve caught a… a big pile of branches and leaves, I think,” Sam said. “I think I can get my hook and bait back.” She leaned out of the boat as he reeled in, reaching for the pile of floating debris. Her fingers started to curl around the end of the line.
Then she stiffened, going dead still.
“Sam…?”
She pulled away, scrambling, trying to come to her feet in an effort to get away, her eyes still hard on the water. The boat began to rock dangerously.
“Sam, what the hell…? Have you lost your mind?” Teddy demanded.
“Sam!” Rowan said, reaching for her, drawing her against him. She felt like ice, stiff and shaking at the same time. “Sam, what—”
“Oh, God!” she gasped.
He pressed her behind him—down. He could still picture the gators on the shore not so far away from them, and though he didn’t have a special fear of the creatures, he had no desire to tempt fate. But he’d never seen Sam react as she had just now, with such terror.
He reached over the side of the boat.
He saw.
He touched.
He started, and jerked back in horror.
“God damn, what the hell is it?” Teddy said impatiently. “What on earth did she catch?”
Rowan felt bile rising in his throat. An odor was wafting up to him now. Fetid as the swamp at its worst. An odor of rot and decay and death.
“Not what—who,” he said flatly.
“What?” Teddy repeated. “What did she catch?”
Rowan gritted his teeth and calmly turned toward Teddy. “A body.”
“A body?”
“Well, a torso… and a bit more,” Rowan said. He forced himself to look back at the remains covered in algae and black, oozing muck. Breathe through your mouth, he reminded himself. “It’s—it’s real, certainly. Dismembered… or all that remains of a body. There’s just… it’s hard to say. A torso, part of a pelvis, the stump of a leg…”
“A man? A woman?”
He had to take a good look. Some strips of muddy cloth remained on the body. The bone appeared to have been…
Bitten.
Oh, Lord.
He swallowed. He could see the chest, and despite the condition of what they had of the corpse, he was pretty sure he could tell the sex.
Or could he? Had those lumps possibly been breasts at one time? There was no flesh at all in places, just shining bone. But then… then he could see tissue. Muscle? Flesh?
A fly buzzed around him, landed on the lump that had once been a life.
“I think it’s a woman’s torso,” he said.
“Oh, God…” He heard Sam breathing again. “Is it Marnie?”
Chapter 17
Sam was sick. She wanted more than anything in the world to jump overboard and swim away as fast as possible. Somehow she stayed in the boat.
But at one point an odor crawled into her nostrils just as she looked at the mud-and-growth-encrusted remains.
And she was sick.
Later she managed to produce her cellular phone when Teddy asked her for it. She listened to his official codes and jargon as he called in their grisly discovery.
She felt Rowan’s arms around her. But God, she was cold. So cold. Dripping with sweat, frozen inside.
Could it be Marnie?
r /> The first person to join them was a Miccosukee cop, Jimmy Puma. Right behind him, led by him to the scene, was a man named Dr. Rick Mira. He was an assistant Miami-Dade County medical examiner. Small world. He’d happened to be out fishing that afternoon, the same as them.
He inspected the remains of the corpse in the water, then instructed Jimmy and Teddy on how to bring it in carefully so that no evidence was lost. Even then, when the body was bagged and brought into Big Al’s to await the arrival of the meat wagon, as Teddy referred to the county hearse, Mira told them, “A woman, yes, late twenties, early thirties—the pelvic bone is there, so we’ll know more certainly on that, but as to helpful evidence as to how and when she got here and who she was… well, we’ve got no hands, no face, no teeth. A torso and hips…”
“Well, I guess we can safely say that we have a woman who was murdered and her killer dismembered her,” Jimmy Puma said.
“Well, we can’t say that for sure,” Mira corrected.
“Then what can we say for sure? That she’s dead?” Rowan demanded.
“Don’t get testy,” Mira said. “She was down in that muck for a long time. Buried in it.” He realized they were all staring at him. “Well, you see, alligators often drown their victims. Drag ’em down until they quit struggling. Keeps the gators from getting injured by their prey, not that it’s easy to injure a gator. Of course, lots of predators are like that. Killer whales do the same, toss their prey around, stun them, demoralize them, take all the fight out of them. Make it so they can’t fight back. Instinct, you know, self-preservation.”
“Instinct,” Rowan repeated softly. He must have been aware that Sam was hovering right behind him, feeling very ill again, and very green. “However she died, can you tell us… how long she’s been in the water?”
“Can’t really say yet,” Mira assured them, trying to be as cheerful as he could manage. “This will be a hard ease to solve, to crack. A really hard one. Although,” he added, brightening, “nothing is unsolvable. There was the case of the maggots.”
“The maggots?”
“Oh, yeah. In this one case, maggots completely consumed the flesh of a woman, and the detective on the case—a bright fellow—was certain the husband had been poisoning her. A specialist collected the maggots, swirled them into a soup in the blender, and tested the maggot soup for poison. The detective was right. The little buggers were full of cyanide. Can you beat that?”