Crack! Boom!
The car shuddered. They heard a strange flopping sound.
“Flat tire?” he muttered.
“Out here? I hope not!”
Another blast. Closer. Louder.
“Gun. Gun! Get down!” he shouted. He undid their seat belts so they could hunch lower. “Sounds like a rifle. What the hell? Got to get us out of here!”
In that awkward position, he held hard to the steering wheel and tried to back the car away. At least one flopping, flat tire made him lose control and sent them off the road. More dust. They banged backward into something. Claire braced herself as they were jolted without their seat belts.
The car jerked to a stop. Nick tried to drive forward, but their wheels spun. As other cracking sounds came closer, they hunkered down, each in their own footwell. The next blast shattered the driver’s side back window, spewing shards of glass and drowning out Claire’s scream.
22
Nick had no intention of making a break for the trees. Maybe that was the shooter’s intent. Talk about a terrorist. Clayton Ames was that—but was he behind this attack or was someone else?
Nick wanted to hold Claire, comfort her, but the console between them was a barrier. He was scared to so much as lift his head, in case the shooter wanted to blow it off, though he didn’t think he would. Fear and control was the name of this game.
When it was silent again, Nick counted to fifty. Then, reaching across to hold Claire down, he slowly raised his head and looked around. Through the slowly settling dust, he saw no one unless someone was hunkered down behind the trees. There was no sign of Bronco’s trailer on the road or in the pull-off.
“Anyone?” Claire asked, but when she started to raise her head, he pushed her back down.
“Don’t see a soul,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not out there. I have a gun locked in my desk at the office and one hidden on the yacht, but not in the car.”
“Maybe he left. Just wanted to scare us.” Her voice was a trembling whisper.
“And to threaten or warn us. I don’t think it’s some random potshot this deep in the Glades.”
“Like the guy on the WaveRunner at the mangrove death scene. Either sent by Ames, or we’re being followed by someone whose cage we’ve rattled. Maybe the person who killed Stirling and wants us to stop sniffing around—just to let Haze take the blame for it. Hopefully, like the WaveRunner guy, he’s taken off now. It’s pretty obvious we didn’t heed the message on that life ring—Get out! Stay out!”
“But we’re stuck here—at least one tire is blown and the rest are stuck. And we are not getting out of this car. The backseat is probably covered with glass since there’s even some up here. You aren’t cut, are you?”
“No. I think the high seatbacks and headrests saved us from that, let alone taking a bullet. I’m okay, really. Except I don’t like the vultures I can see circling in the sky over us as the sun sets,” she said, looking up. “I think we have human ones circling too. But you mean we’re going to stay in the car all night? Wait him out? Nick, no one—that is, no one we can trust—knows exactly where we are except—”
“Except Bronco. I’m going to crawl into the backseat and brush the glass off in case we’re stuck for the night. Here,” he said, taking his cell phone from the console pocket and handing it to her. “Try 9-1-1. You don’t have yours with you, do you?”
“I didn’t have time to grab it and I knew you had yours.”
“I’m not holding out hope. Huge stretches out here have no cell towers. We need to be able to huddle, and all we can do here is hold hands.”
“You mean ‘cuddle’? How romantic under a darkening sky marooned in the ‘Neverglades,’” she said, but her voice quavered.
“Not the way I’d prefer for us to spend our second night sleeping together, but I love you for your courage as well as for your other qualities.”
“To know you love me almost makes crazy things like this okay,” she said with a sniff. “But what if he, or she, sneaks up on us?”
“Gone with the wind, I think. We’re better off in here. I was thinking of waiting until it got pitch-dark, but the minute we open a car door to get out, the lights will pop on and—”
“And we’d be sitting ducks just waiting for a bullet, not to mention wild animals out here at night—like Bronco’s gators or pythons.”
“I still don’t think he’s behind this,” he said as she tried his phone. He squirmed his way into the backseat, kneeling on broken glass on the floor and brushing it off the seat.
“Your phone only says Roaming. Oh, now No Network Available. Lexi’s going to be scared without us. I don’t want her to have another nightmare alone.”
“Nita’s there but shook up too. And we don’t have your meds.”
“That could be more bad news. I don’t need a narcoleptic nightmare on top of all this,” she said with a huge sigh. “I should have grabbed my purse, because I have extra pills there, but we were in such a hurry...”
Her voice trailed off.
“Nick,” she said with a sob she’d obviously been trying to hold back, “we’ve been in a hurry since we met, haven’t we? Trouble and danger. Now this.”
“Don’t be scared. Ames wants us alive to do his bidding.”
“Unless, like we said, it’s someone else with a gun who thinks we’re asking too many questions and trailed us when we drove away from Goodland. Maybe Fin? Even Thom Van Cleve?”
“Is Jace good with guns?”
“Jace? He wouldn’t! How can you say that?”
“Because he hates my guts, and we have Lexi—and I have you. I know you still care about him but—”
“He’s her father, that’s all.”
“But I can see it in his eyes. And do we know who he flies for now? Nail him on it sometime, or I will. Actually, I asked Heck to find out and he couldn’t—and that’s trouble. It’s like there’s some phony company he’s working for.”
“Nick, after everything we—and Lexi—went through on Grand Cayman, I can’t imagine he’d knowingly work for Ames, though Ames could have a company fronting for him. I know he can twist the truth and people’s arms, but Jace told me that when he saw us leave Nightshade with Lexi, he got off the island as fast as he could.”
“Let’s not argue. You agreed we’re in this together, and tonight we are. Before you join me on our bed for the night,” he said, trying to calm himself too, “reach under your seat and pull out my spare briefcase. It’s empty. Maybe I can jam it in this shattered window to keep the skeeters out, as Bronco calls them.”
“And snakes.”
“Claire, snakes aren’t going to slither in here.”
“Pythons are huge, and they sense warm bodies, even in the dark! I read about that. They coil around them and suffocate them.”
“Yeah, well you’re really helping here with talk like that. Should we worry about the so-called Swamp Ape too?”
“What’s that?”
“A phony, local giant, kind of like the Abominable Snowman, a yeti or whatever. Some locals have taken bogus pictures of it, but let’s be reasonable here.”
“Reasonable? Like you suspecting Jace of shooting at us? Like believing in and promoting a fountain of youth?” she cried, her voice rising on another sob. “Like I’m starting to think Ada Cypress might be an old, old woman who looks fifty? Like there’s someone so terrible and powerful he can threaten us from far away and hire anyone to do his bidding?”
“Sweetheart, hand me the briefcase and come back here. If no one comes looking for us by morning, we’ll walk down the road to get help. Just keep low, crawl back here and let me hold you.”
She did, thrusting the briefcase at him first. With one hand, reaching over his head, he wedged it in the jagged frame of brok
en glass. He lay with his back to the rear of the seat and pulled her into his arms in front of him.
She pressed back against him as if she was sitting in his lap. “Nick, if I have a bad dream, or hallucinate, just talk me down, okay? I’m scared, not only being out here in the dark like this with—things—around, but about how things are going.”
“They’re going well for you and me personally, intimately,” he insisted, kissing the nape of her neck through her tousled hair. “Lexi’s adapting, maybe even thriving.”
“I mean this Mangrove Murder mess. Trying to sift through things and keep ahead of Ames in case we have to cross him by telling the police someone else murdered Mark. That would ruin your day in court when you’re blackmailed into promoting Ames’s youth products.”
“I know. That goes against everything I believe, every oath I ever took. I keep praying somehow we’ll find a way to stop Ames and stay safe.”
“Yeah, like right now,” she said, but he was fighting not to laugh at the way she’d worded that. They hadn’t stayed safe since they’d met.
Damn, but he did love her, needed her. They quieted, holding tight, straining to listen for footfalls, for anything, as the sounds of the wilderness night crept in: tree frogs and bullfrogs drumming, then a who, who. “Who indeed,” he said, giving her a little squeeze, “but that’s only an owl.”
“Maybe a burrowing one?”
“Doubt it out here. Try to sleep.”
“No way. Without my meds, I fear my dreams, though reality is pretty scary too. Nick, it’s darker than dark out here! I’m trying to be upbeat, but what are we going to do?”
“Hold on. Hold on like this and just—hold on.”
* * *
Jace left the clubhouse bar at the Royal Poinciana Golf Club he’d just joined for a fat fee. He’d played eighteen holes today and tonight had passed up a chance to pick up a clingy, tipsy redhead, but she wasn’t the redhead he wanted—probably, stupid sot that he was, still loved.
Feeling a bit woozy, he headed for his new Lexus. It wasn’t far to his condo. No more living in the Lakewood area. He was moving up in the world.
But the truth was, he didn’t give a damn. He’d rather not be spending Ames’s money. He’d rather be going home to Claire and Lexi, at least the old Claire and Lexi. How had it happened he’d lost them? Couldn’t blame Markwood for that, though he’d like to. Claire was on her own by the time she’d met Nick. But the years she was married to him, how had he been so blind, so stupid not to know she was on powerful meds for her narcolepsy and cataplexy, ones that could turn her into a kind of freaked-out zombie? And she’d managed to hide that from him. But it was his fault too, not to recognize the signs. Oh, yeah, Attorney Nicholas Markwood was welcome to her.
He fumbled to get his keys out and saw a guy standing by his car, maybe having a smoke. No—no cigarette. Did he know him?
“Oh, Mr. Van Cleve. I thought, if you came back, I’d be flying you in,” Jace told him, hoping he wasn’t slurring his words.
“Not flying me or anyone else in, if you’re, as they used to say, ‘in your cups.’ You’ve got to stay sober all the time in case you get a sudden call to fly.”
“I don’t drink much, really. Things got a bit out of hand this evening, so—just this once.”
“Once is too many. I saw your pricey fee for this club on your company credit account and tracked you down to be sure you can fly in a couple of chemists—water experts, to be exact—soon so they can help lay the groundwork for the trial, working with Nick Markwood. They’re in LA, but I believe you used to fly into there a lot.”
“I like cross-country flights, the views, the clouds.”
“Just heed my warning because there are views, then there are views,” he said and whipped out his cell phone, which lit up brightly with a flick of his thumb across its face.
Suddenly, Jace was staring at a picture of Lexi. Lexi sitting with that Mexican, or whatever she was, nanny of hers in—it looked like kiddie library time. And, yeah, there was Claire’s sister, Darcy, and her little girl, Jilly, too.
Jace felt sick to his stomach, but not so sick he didn’t want to pound this bastard through the pavement.
“Nice picture, cute kids,” Van Cleve said as the screen went dark. “Story time at the East Naples library. So here’s a moral from a story for you. Flyboy signs on to help tycoon. But flyboy still cares about ex-wifey and offspring.”
Jace just gaped at him. Had this man read his mind? No, more likely, Clayton Ames had.
“But,” Van Cleve went on in a monotone voice, “flyboy needs to do exactly what he signed on to do for the tycoon. Know whose side he’s on and why. Or else happily-ever-after story time could have a sad ending, and we don’t want that.” His voice sharpened. “Shape up, Jace. Sober up and shut up. Drinks and bars with babes don’t make for discreet assignments. See you around.”
The man stalked away, crossed the parking lot, then lights popped on in a distant car and he drove into the darkness. Jace thought he might throw up, not from whiskey and beer but raw fear.
23
Fearing deep sleep where a narcoleptic nightmare might occur, Claire slept only fitfully off and on. She knew Nick struggled to stay awake. The slightest sound set them off. Despite the comfort of his arms around her, she was so nervous that twice she’d had to relieve herself, though he’d barely opened the car door for her to go right there. The brief overhead door light nearly blinded them.
As light and a faint fog sifted in at dawn, they heard a muted roar.
They both jerked alert. “A search airplane overhead?” she asked and tried to sit up.
“A vehicle on the road behind us. Stay down! It looks like Bronco’s truck, but wait until I see it’s him, and he’s okay.”
Nick got out, but she peeked over the backseat. Yes, Bronco. Apparently alone. She hated to think this way, but she was glad she could see both of his hands were empty.
To her relief Bronco gave Nick a one-armed hug. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, so she got out and went closer. When they saw her, they walked toward her. Bronco was obviously anxious to explain. For a guy who didn’t say a lot, he called out, “Mrs. Claire, I drove around, then parked by the beach all night. Didn’t come out here like I told Nita. Ashamed. Nick said there was a shooter, but it wasn’t me. Hate guns. You guys been good to me. First thing this morning I went back to ’pologize, and Nita told me ’bout what you did. Man, she was shook but just told Lexi you went out. I said, let me check ’fore you call the police. Thank God the reason you didn’t come back was just ’cause of a flat tire and a spin off the road! All my fault.”
“And mine for rushing out here,” Nick admitted as the three of them stood between their vehicles. Claire noticed that Nick kept glancing around. “But I knew you needed a friend. As for the flat tire and the shattered back window you haven’t seen...”
“Man, sorry! No, didn’t see the window!” he said, walking closer to the car. “Someone shot at you? Maybe stalked you?”
With an exaggerated shrug, Nick said, “So see, we need you to watch over things. And we don’t mind your seeing—dating, ah, romancing—Nita, as long she’s okay with it and it doesn’t interfere with either of your jobs.”
Claire smiled at Nick as Bronco beamed at them. After locking the car and leaving a note in the window in case someone found it, they squeezed Claire between them in Bronco’s truck and headed back to town. Claire was convinced that this, at least, was a temporary happy ending.
* * *
Claire was glad to hear Darcy’s voice on the phone the next morning, but she had no plans to tell her she’d spent the night in the Glades after being shot at.
“I’m starting to really like your husband,” Darcy said. “He invited Steve and me to the meet-the-law-firm reception Monday.”
“And the Saturday cruise tomorrow. I can’t wait to show—”
“Claire, hold on a sec. That’s one reason I called. Jilly’s come down with the chicken pox, and I bet Drew catches them from her too, so we’ll have to postpone that. I’m so sorry—really I am. But that means that Lexi might get them too since they were at the library story hour, not to mention other kids there. I’m going to call the librarian and warn her.”
“Oh, Darcy, no. I’m so sorry too, but things like that are not anyone’s fault. You didn’t know she was coming down with anything. Give Jilly a hug for me.”
“About those other kids—I counted nine of them from the photo one of the fathers took and, I guess, sent everyone a copy, though I’m not sure how he knew our address. Did you get one? Lexi’s in it, center stage with Jilly.”
“No, but we still have our mail going to Nick’s office. I’ll watch her for a breakout. But you and Steve will be there Monday? Glad to hear that, as I’ve met almost no one in Nick’s professional world except his tech advisor.”
“Claire, listen, are you happy?”
“I have Lexi and Nick and the career I always wanted, helping people who need help, working on the truth.”
“You didn’t answer my question, honey. Kiss Lexi for me and be safe and happy, however busy you are.”
After they ended the call, Claire thought that was kind of a strange thing to say. Darcy didn’t know they weren’t safe. And why would Darcy think she wasn’t happy? Good things were happening. Nick had arranged for Bronco to get counseling for his anger management and self-image. And Heck had promised to get her the verbatim court records of the Dylan Carnahan trial.
* * *
Claire was exhausted. She intended to walk over to Ada Cypress’s place after lunch, but she lay down for a few minutes. Her body was limp, but her mind was spinning.