Lexie found herself watching the captain a little more closely than usual, unsure whether he was friend or foe.
“So, you’ve lived in these parts most of your life?” Lexie asked.
“Yep.”
“You must know about everyone.”
“I know who I need to know.”
“I bet you’ve met some interesting characters over the years, some good and some bad.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Meade asked.
“Nothing. Just making conversation.”
“Most of the people I meet doing my charters are good people.”
“Anyone ever tried to get you to do anything illegal with your boat?”
Captain Meade stopped and faced Lexie. His voice lower and gruffer when he asked, “Why do you want to know?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
“Why are you so curious what I do with my boat?”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. Just making conversation.”
“You need to re-think your chosen topic. In fact, I think you need to mind your own business, girl. People don’t like newcomers poking around in their business.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Lexie decided it was time to change the subject. She inhaled deep.
“What’s that smell?”
“Do you like the smell?” Meade asked.
Lexie took a deep breath. “I do. It has an unusual but distinct smell. Kind of earthy and salty.”
“That’s pluff mud. Most Yankees hate it, but to Southerners, it’s the fragrance of home. I take it you haven’t stepped in it yet?”
“No. What would happen?”
“It’s a little like quicksand—the more you struggle, the deeper you sink. You can go from ankle deep to mid-thigh in one step if you’re not careful. It has a strong sucking power, so if you step in it, don’t expect to retrieve your shoes. If you ever get stuck in it, don’t panic. Go to your knees to form a platform and work your way out from there. It’s a long process, but it could save your life.”
Captain Meade moved the boat near the banks so he could point out the slippery, brown-gray, gooey mud.
“Pluff mud is formed from decaying spartina grasses, as well as the decaying material from all of the marsh life it helps support, such as fish, crabs, and shrimp.”
“So, it’s the circle of life; the smell of life coming from death.”
“That’s a good way to look at it.”
Lexie closed her eyes and allowed her senses to completely take over. She memorized the sounds and smells of the Lowcountry. She opened her eyes and smiled.
“I’m going to get some outstanding sunset photos,” she said. “Not a cloud in the sky.”
Captain Meade nodded, reached into the cooler, and pulled out a Budweiser. “Want one?” he asked.
“No. I’m not a big beer drinker.”
“What do you drink?” Meade asked.
“Wine mostly, but I do like rum drinks.”
“I don’t like all that sweet shit,” the captain said. “You better get your camera ready. We’re getting ready to witness Mother Nature’s miracle.” Meade took the wheel and cut the engine. Lexie readied her camera.
The normally black river mirrored the glorious, golden, topaz sky. An ancient cypress tree, draped in Spanish Moss, cast a ghostly appearance. The rhythmic sound of the sloshing water drumming the sides of the boat was the only noise. Lexie breathed in the warm salty marsh smell and stood speechless before the magnificent sight. She and the captain silently watched the transition from day to night.
15
Since they had such a successful afternoon training session the day before, Captain Meade decided Lexie needed some evening navigation lessons. He had the boat waiting when Lexie arrived.
“Good afternoon, Captain. Permission to come aboard?”
Meade smiled. Lexie noticed the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled.
“Permission granted. Stow your belongings and get the lines.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Captain Meade took the boat beyond the no wake zone, then opened up the engine. Lexie put her hand on her head to keep her baseball cap from flying away.
“Where are we heading?” Lexie hollered over the roar of the motor.
“You’ll see.”
The captain slowed the engine and steered the boat through a series of canals. He cut the engine and drifted over to the dock.
“The lines are tied to the pylons at the ends of the dock. Can you grab them for me?”
Lexie hopped over onto the dock and tossed the captain each rope.
Lexie noticed a path from the dock that led to a small shack partially hidden in the woods.
“Where are we?”
“My home. Since you’re so interested in the history of this area, I thought I would show you some of my artifacts. I figured you could also use a good home cooked meal.”
“What makes you think I can’t cook?”
“Can you?” Meade asked.
“Well, no. But—”
“Didn’t think so.” Meade laughed as he grabbed his canvas pack from under the seat.
“Come on. Don’t be shy.”
You could kill someone and hide the body out here and no one would ever find it, Lexie thought.
Lexie grabbed her camera bag and followed Captain Meade to the house. A large, black, mixed breed dog scooted out from under the porch. The dog barked and ran toward them with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
“This here is Jack Dog. He won’t bite you, but he might lick you to death.”
Lexie knelt down and ruffled Jack’s floppy ears with both hands.
“Hey there, Jack,” she said. “You sure are a cutie.”
Jack swiped his big slobbery tongue across Lexie’s face.
“Jack likes the ladies,” Meade said. “Leave her alone, Jack.”
Lexie picked up her bag and followed the captain. The wooden cabin had a tin roof, and large windows flanked the front door. The covered front porch overlooked the water. To the side of the front door, positioned below the window, sat what used to be an indoor couch now repurposed as outdoor furniture.
“This place is great,” Lexie said. “Did you build it yourself?”
“I designed it and my friends built it. The wood is cypress because cypress is impervious to termites.”
Lexie nodded. “Don’t you get lonely out here? It doesn’t look like you have any close neighbors.”
“That’s what I like about it. I enjoy my privacy.”
Captain Meade opened the door for Lexie. “It’s not as isolated as you think. I have a driveway out back. I’m only a half mile off the main road. I have electricity, plumbing, well water, and a wood stove for winter. What more does a man need?”
“A wife?” Lexie said, laughing.
“I had one of those. It didn’t work out so great. Say, you never talk about your background. You ever been married?” Meade asked.
“Nope. I haven’t found the right guy yet. Maybe someday.”
The cabin had a small kitchen and a larger living room. Although the cabin looked shabby from the outside, the inside was neat and well organized. Lexie examined some of the old photographs that were framed on the wall.
“What the hell is that thing?” Lexie asked pointing to a four-foot by three-foot skin hanging on the wall.
“That’s a sturgeon skin.”
“Holy hell, it’s huge,” Lexie said. “Did you catch it?”
“Sure did. That was what I did before I started the charter business. I netted for sturgeon and made caviar.”
“Caviar? I thought caviar came from Russia.”
“Not just Russia. I had a good local following, mostly doctors and lawyers. I netted the sturgeon, then made a small incision on the underside of the fish to harvest the roe. Once I harvested the eggs, I salted them down and stored the caviar in small glass jars. The darker the berry, the better.”
“Yuck,
” Lexie said. “I don’t like roe.”
Hanging on the wall next to the sturgeon skin was an iron bladed object with a wooden handle. Lexie walked over and touched it.
“That’s a rice hook,” Meade said. “It’s a sickle that the slaves used to cut the rice crops.”
“It’s in good shape,” Lexie said.
Captain Meade nodded and picked up an old hoe that was standing in the corner. He handed the hoe to Lexie.
“This is an actual hoe that was used by the slaves in the nearby rice fields.”
“Where did you get all these antiques?”
“I picked them up here and there over the years. I thought you might enjoy seeing my collection. You want a drink?”
“Sure.”
Lexie noticed several shotguns placed strategically around the room. Meade could get his hands on a weapon from anywhere in the cabin.
Captain Meade pulled out from his freezer a mason jar containing a clear liquid.
“How about a little of my home brew?” he asked.
“Moonshine?” Lexie asked.
“Yep. I made it out back. Say, you sure you aren’t a cop?”
Lexie froze. Feelings of guilt and betrayal came flowing back like a long-lost companion. She hadn’t experienced these feelings since her last long term assignment in California when she met Savannah Riley. Ironically, Savannah was also from South Carolina. What is it about these people from South Carolina? Lexie thought. She remembered the undercover motto from her training: You build relationships to betray relationships.
“What’s the matter with you?” Meade asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Lexie shook her head and smiled a feeble smile.
“Oh nothing. I’m fine.”
“You sure? You don’t look fine.”
Meade handed her a small glass of moonshine.
“To our new resident wildlife photographer,” Meade said and clinked his glass on Lexie’s.
Lexie swallowed a sip of her drink. The intense burn flowed down her throat, causing her eyes to water. She choked.
“This is terrible,” she gasped.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Meade said, laughing. “Take another swig.”
“My esophagus is still on fire from the first drink. You made this?”
“Yep. My still is out back. Wanna see it?”
“Yeah. I do. I’ve never seen a real still before.”
Lexie followed Captain Meade outside to a dilapidated shed with a lean-to. Under the lean-to was a series of pots connected with coils. The equipment appeared well used, despite being nearly covered with weeds.
“Aren’t you afraid of getting arrested for having a still?” Lexie asked.
“Naw. I don’t sell it or anything. I make enough for myself and I give away a few jars to my close friends. The sheriff has got better things to do than bother an old man over a still. Besides, I give him a jar every year at Christmas. Let’s go back inside before the skeeters carry us away. Since you don’t seem to like my shine, I’ll get you a Coke.”
“That’s more my speed,” Lexie said.
Back inside the cabin, Meade fished out a bottle of Coke and a Tupperware bowl from the refrigerator.
“Can I help?”
“Just relax. Here’s your Coke. You like pulled pork?”
“Love it,” Lexie replied.
“Good. Me and Otis Ray smoked a whole hog a few days ago. It turned out pretty damn good, if I say so myself.”
Lexie’s stomach lurched at the mention of Otis Ray, but Meade had opened the door for Lexie to pry. “Otis Ray. I think I’ve seen him around the marina.”
“Yeah. He’s there most days.”
“Is he a fisherman?” Lexie asked.
“Nope.”
“Tour guide like you?”
“Nope.”
“What’s he do then?”
“Why are you so interested in Otis Ray?”
“Just making conversation.”
“Well there’s a hell of a lot better things to talk about than Otis Ray. How about you tell me something about you?” Meade asked.
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your people. Where did you grow up? What do your folks do?”
Legend time, Lexie thought.
Legend was the term the FBI used for the undercover’s backstory. It included all the places the undercover agent supposedly lived and worked. A complete credit history was established and put in place by the FBI, so if anyone actually ran Lexie’s alias through databases, she would appear legitimate. On paper, Lexie Lynne Perry really existed.
During dinner, Lexie went through her legend with Captain Meade. It sounded legitimate to her ears and she hoped the captain believed her.
“This is the best pulled pork that I’ve ever had,” Lexie said.
“Thank you. You want some more?” Meade asked.
“No thank you. I’m stuffed.”
“Let’s throw these dishes in the sink and go for a boat ride,” the captain ordered.
“I can help you wash them up.”
“No need. They’ll be here when I get home tonight.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. Let’s go do some night navigation training.”
***
The falling tide made nighttime navigation a bit trickier. Captain Meade stayed by Lexie’s side as she slowly steered the boat around the sand bars.
“Well done, little lady.”
Lexie smiled. “Thank you.”
The unmistakable noise of a small plane roared overhead. Lexie looked up as a seaplane, barely above the tree tops, lined up for a landing.
“There’s that seaplane again,” Lexie said. “What’s he up to this time of the night?”
“That’s none of our concern,” Meade said.
“Aren’t you curious?” Lexie asked.
“Curiosity can get a person hurt. That’s why I keep to myself and I don’t get up in other people’s business.”
“Are you saying they’re dangerous?”
“I’m not saying anything, girl. You need to concentrate on driving this boat and not worry about other people’s business.”
“They have to be doing something illegal, Captain. Do you think they might be running drugs?”
Captain Meade made an audible sigh.
“Why do you care? You need to keep your mouth shut and forget all about that seaplane. Out here it’s live and let live. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah. I understand.”
“I mean it. Promise me that you won’t go shooting your mouth off about that damn plane. There are some things that are better left alone. Talking about that plane is something that can get you in serious trouble.”
“I promise. I won’t say anything.”
“Good. Now get this boat to the middle of the creek before you run us up on that sandbar.”
“Yes, sir,” Lexie said.
“I think it’s about time we get you back to the marina. It’s getting pretty late.”
Lexie followed Captain Meade’s orders and pulled the boat into the slip at the marina. The captain tied off the boat and waited for Lexie to gather her belongings. Before Lexie exited the boat, Meade grabbed her by the arm.
“Don’t forget what I told you, girl. Not a word to anyone about that plane.”
Meade squeezed Lexie’s arm for emphasis.
“Whatever you say, Captain.”
“I mean it, Lexie.”
“I hear you.”
As she walked away from the slip she heard Captain Meade mutter, “I hope so. For both our sakes.”
16
Lexie called Don the next morning on her way to the marina. Don’s voice sounded raspy and gruff.
“What could possibly be so important that you need to wake me up at … oh hell, what time is it?”
“It’s six o’clock, sleepy head. Rise and shine.”
“You’re not one of those naturally happy morning peo
ple, are you?” Don asked.
“Actually, no,” Lexie said. “But I wanted to run something by you before I get to the marina.”
Lexie heard Don shuffle around on the other end of the phone.
“Let me get to the kitchen.”
“Sorry to wake you. I thought you would be up by now.”
“Normally I am, but we worked late last night.”
“Something related to this case?” Lexie asked.
“No. We were out on one of Tony’s debacles. To hear him talk about it, he’s working the biggest case in the Bureau.”
“He’s such an ass,” Lexie said.
“Yes, he is. Now, what do you have for me?”
“Remember the seaplane that we discussed?”
“I do. What about it?”
“It’s making night landings somewhere near Spirit Island. That pilot has to be running drugs.”
“What does that have to do with the ELF actions? Do you have anything new regarding the case you’re supposed to be investigating?”
Lexie cringed.
“What if the two cases are related?”
“What evidence do you have tying the two together?”
“Well nothing yet, but I’m just saying it’s not out of the realm of possibilities that the two situations are connected.”
“Call me back when you have something more concrete.”
“Wait, one more thing. I have a person of interest at the marina, but I only have a first and a middle name for him.”
“That’s going to make it a little difficult, but give me what you’ve got.”
“Otis Ray. He’s a white male, forty to forty-five years of age.”
“I’ll play around with the name in NCIC and see if I come up with anything.”
“Thanks, Don.”
“No problem. Go find me some evidence on my tree-huggers, please.”
“You got it.”
Lexie pulled into the marina parking lot and the stars aligned.
“Hot damn,” Lexie whispered. “I must be living life right.”
Two spots down from where she parked, Otis Ray was getting out of an old rusted out pick-up truck with a makeshift wooden tailgate.
Lexie texted the license plate number to Don with the note: Please run this tag. Hopefully it will come back to Otis Ray and we’ll learn his last name. I’ll call you when I get off the boat.
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