Escape from the Everglades

by Tim Shoemaker

  “Prove a point.” She sounded defiant. “Everybody should have left us alone.”

  Her kayaking in the bay—at night—was one more reckless stunt. “So you’ll keep doing idiot things until your dad lets you date Kingman again?”

  “Something like that.”

  “But how can you settle for that guy? I just don’t get it. You’re perfect.” The words slipped out somehow—but it was too late to take them back.

  The sound of bike tires on the crushed shell lane directly behind him made him turn for an instant.

  Jelly. Blue paint and all. She rode right past Crawley—who had moved in way closer. He stood there leaning against a cypress—and probably heard everything. He flicked his cigarette to the beach and ground it with his foot. He flashed an oily grin and nodded his head like he wasn’t hiding the fact that he’d been eavesdropping—and had no intention of stopping.

  Jelly gave Parker a sad look. “That perfect girl has made up her mind. Just let her go.”

  He focused back on Maria. “So you don’t get your way, and you just paddle off into the night? Who’s acting like a kid now?”

  She didn’t answer, but glided backward faster. Parker stood there for a second, watching in disbelief. He’d untie the boat, drag it into the water, and in five minutes she’d have an escort—whether she wanted one or not. He’d keep her safe—wherever she was going. Or he’d capsize her and force her to shore. She’d be plenty mad, but Uncle Sammy would sure be happy. That had to be the right thing to do. And as soon as he got the boat started, he’d call Dad. Let him know what was going on.

  There was no sense in hiding what he was doing. There was nothing she could do to stop him. As long as Jelly didn’t get in his way.

  He hustled to the cypress, untied the line, threw it into the bow.

  “What are you doing?” Jelly said. She dropped her bike. “You have to let her go—or you know Clayton is going to hurt you, right?”

  “Would everybody stop worrying about me? Nothing’s going to happen.” He hoped he sounded a whole lot more confident than he felt. Parker leaned into the bow. The boat slid into the shallows and he vaulted over the side.

  “Parker,” Maria shouted. She was another thirty yards deeper into the bay. “When you see Rosie, you might ask her for your gas tank back.”

  He whirled to check. Sure enough, the quick-connect hose lay on the deck of his boat like a dead snake. The five-gallon gas tank was gone. A sinking feeling came over him. She’d outsmarted him.

  “Bye, Parker.” Maria scooped the water and arced into a smooth turn. She paddled away from shore at a fast clip.

  She was going—just like that. Nothing he’d said made a bit of difference. He stood there in the Boy’s Bomb . . . stunned. She’d been one step ahead of him the entire time. It was like she’d totally anticipated his moves.

  “Does she have a plan, or is she just going to paddle out there like a kid having a tantrum until daddy gives in?” He turned to face Jelly.

  Fresh tears were streaming down her cheeks. They mixed with the blue paint that had run from her hair.

  “Oh, Maria has a plan all right,” she whispered.

  “But you’re not going to say what it is.”

  Jelly’s lips formed a tight, thin line like she’d glued them shut. She shook her head.

  The sound of an engine starting drew his attention. Crawley’s pickup kicked up gravel and roared off toward the marina, pulling his boat behind. Good. Parker didn’t like the idea of the creep hanging around so close to Jelly anyway.

  Parker scanned the darkening water. Spotted Maria nearly a hundred yards from shore. How long would she stay out there to make her point? And how far from shore would she go?

  He stood and stepped to the stern. Planted both hands on the outboard motor and leaned out over the water a bit. As if that would give him a better view.

  He had to call Dad, even though Jelly would likely try to stop him. Dad would get Uncle Sammy. They’d get out there and pick Maria up. “You sure Maria didn’t tell Kingman that meeting at Gator Hook Trail is bogus?”

  “She said Clayton was still going there—like the text told him to.”

  What if Maria had lied to Jelly? What if she’d tipped Kingman off, and he wasn’t on his way to Gator Hook Trail after all? What if he was meeting Maria in the bay? What better way to punish her dad for breaking them up than to meet Kingman anyway?

  Parker rummaged in his pack and whipped out his binoculars. He made a quick scan of the bay. No sign of Kingman in another boat.

  Maria suddenly veered like she was making a course correction. What was she up to? Instead of heading farther into the bay, she headed right toward the black mouth of the Lopez River.

  He spun and stared at Jelly. Dread dropped anchor in his gut . . . and he knew exactly what Maria had planned. “She’s doing Watson’s Run.”

  CHAPTER 41

  ANGELICA HATED THE WAY PARKER looked at her. Like she’d betrayed him or something. But he just didn’t understand.

  “You knew she was doing Watson’s Run?”

  She nodded.

  “We missed our chance to stop her. What was the point of letting Maria blackmail you into keeping her secret?” Parker pointed out into the bay. “I figured it all out anyway.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” she said. Maria had plans for tonight. Tomorrow. And the day after that.

  “I think I know enough,” Parker said. “Maria threatened to tell Kingman—and you actually believed her. You’re afraid he’ll hurt me.”

  “Hurt you? You really think that’s all he’d do?” Clayton would feed him to the alligators. She knew it in her heart. “We’ve been over this.”

  Parker looked toward the Lopez River and back. “Do you know how insane it is to do Watson’s Run at night? Alone?”

  What was she supposed to say? Of course it was dangerous. “That’s why Maria is doing it. I tried talking her out of it. God knows, I really tried.”

  Parker hopped out of the boat and dragged it back onto the beach. Angelica hustled over to help.

  “Forget it, Jelly. I got this.”

  She stepped back. “Don’t be angry with me. Please.”

  “I’m not.” Parker stormed to the back of the boat and pulled the drain plug from the transom. He threw it into the compartment below the driver’s seat. Then just as abruptly, he fished the plug out and screwed it back in the transom.

  She couldn’t believe it. He was planning to go back out—wasn’t he? He’d get the gas can and go searching for her—in the dark? Of course he would. That’s exactly the kind of idiotic plan he’d put together. He was always trying to do the “right” thing. But without all the facts, he had no idea how wrong that move would be.

  Parker coiled the stern line and hung it from the cleat, but he still didn’t look at her.

  “C’mon, Parker. Don’t do this.” She needed him. Couldn’t he see that? She felt trapped—and needed her best friend more than ever. “Talk to me.”

  “Says the girl who kept me in the dark.” He took a grip on the bow line with his good arm and leaned back to scooch the boat higher on the beach.

  She stepped up to help.

  “I’m not an invalid, you know.” He lashed the bow line around the cypress, fumbling the first attempt because of his gimpy arm. “I don’t need you protecting me. I can take care of myself.”

  No. He couldn’t—and it had nothing to do with his injured arm. Vile beasts like Clayton didn’t fight fair. “You can take care of yourself? That’s what has me worried. I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d said you were trusting God to take care of you. You’re the one with the strong faith, supposedly. But you haven’t even mentioned God once. You’re doing this on your own. You aren’t listening to me. I sure hope you start listening to Him.”

  Parker tore into his backpack and pulled out his phone.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Call my dad. See if they can get a ranger t
o find her on the Lopez before she gets too far.” He punched in the numbers and held it to his ear.

  “You make it sound like this is my fault,” Angelica said. “She’s been planning this for days. Somehow she discovered the bogus texts. I just found out this afternoon.”

  Parker didn’t answer. “Dad, it’s me. Call me when you get this. Maria’s in trouble.” He pocketed the phone and stared out over the water.

  “We could have stopped her,” he said. “Wilson and I—we had them pinned down. But you helped them get away.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.” Parker dialed the phone again. “C’mon, Dad. Pick up.”

  “Did you hear what I said before? Maria’s been planning this. This isn’t some random, spur-of-the-moment thing. She had me cornered—and we didn’t have a chance to come up with some countermove.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “She’s in love with him.”

  Did he wince? It was slight, but she was sure she saw it.

  “Yeah, so she says. But loving a guy like that? It makes no sense.” He peered into the darkness in the direction of Lopez River. Lifted the binoculars and focused in. “She’s gone.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. “She’s been gone ever since she started dating Clayton,” Angelica whispered.

  Parker looked at her and paused—like he wanted to ask her something. He hotfooted it for his bike instead.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Meet Wilson. Find my dad.” He straddled his bike. “And get my gas tank back.” He took off without even a wave goodbye.

  That was it? No . . . How are you doing with all this, Jelly? Are you scared? What is it you’re not telling me?

  “Parker, wait. Please.” Ask me to play twenty questions—right now. She would spill. She would. She wanted to. And it wouldn’t take much pressure. All he had to do was ask the right questions—and show the right heart.

  He didn’t even look back. Obviously, all Parker could think about was Maria. He passed Smallwood’s, pedaling hard.

  “Parker,” she whispered, “please stop.” Her eyes burned—and Parker blurred. Hot tears wet her cheeks. Again. An emptiness enveloped her. A supreme sense of loss.

  She should be feeling something more, right? But there was only a disconnected numbness. Parker was bent on doing something heroic, no doubt. He was going to find that gas tank and go looking for Maria. The real kicker? He hadn’t even invited Angelica to help.

  She sat on the edge of the Boy’s Bomb and watched. Willed him to circle back and try to patch things up. Or at least look back. Even once.

  Parker was totally focused—but not on Angelica. He rounded the bend by Smallwood’s and disappeared into the shadows. This place . . . the Everglades . . . had taken from her again.

  First her mom.

  Then Maria.

  And now Parker was gone too.

  CHAPTER 42

  PARKER TORE INTO THE MARINA and gave the parking lot and waterfront a quick scan. He spotted Wilson by the launch ramp and let out a sharp whistle.

  Wilson waved and hustled over. “Nothing going on here. Creepy Crawley put in just a few minutes ago like he was on a mission, but no sign of Maria.”

  Parker skidded to a stop. “She’s doing Watson’s Run.” He gulped in air. “Alone.”

  Wilson looked stunned. “She’s insane. Even I wouldn’t try that at night.”

  Parker gave him the thirty-second update, and dialed his dad again. When the voicemail kicked in, he disconnected and tried Uncle Sammy—which was another swing and a miss. “Where is everybody?” Every minute that passed gave Maria a bigger lead.

  Wilson mounted his bike. “What now?”

  Parker raked his hands through his hair. “We get my gas tank back.”

  Wilson gave him a sideways look. “You planning to go in after her?”

  Somebody had to.

  Wilson nodded like he read Parker’s thoughts. “Want company?”

  “I thought you said you’d never do Watson’s Run at night.”

  Wilson grinned. “I meant alone.”

  CHAPTER 43

  PARKER SPOTTED ROSIE’S RED CHEVY on her driveway from a block away. They’d made good time, but were still way behind. He had to admit, swiping his gas tank was brilliant.

  The tank belonged to Parker. He didn’t need to sneak up like he was doing something wrong. “We ride up and see if the tank is in the bed—and if not, we ring the bell.”

  “I say we flatten her tires while we’re at it,” Wilson said. “Send her a message—the Miccosukee way. Got your knife?”

  Parker glanced over. Wilson was serious. “I don’t have a beef with Rosie. She was just helping her friend.”

  “She stole from you, Bucky. So, she busted one of the ten big ones, right?”

  It was a funny way to refer to the Ten Commandments. “And I’m pretty sure I’d be breaking one if I tried to get even with her.”

  They banked into Rosie’s drive, dropped their bikes, and ran to the pickup. The gas tank was there—like she’d expected him to come after it.

  “Bingo.” Parker climbed into the bed and hefted the five-gallon tank over the tailgate to Wilson, using his good arm to do the heavy lifting. “We’ll have to empty some of this, or it’ll take forever to get back.” There was no way he could ride his bike and balance the loaded gas can.

  “I’m on it,” Wilson said. “Try your dad again.”

  Dad answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Parker?” His voice sounded strained.

  “I’ve been trying to get you and Uncle Sammy.”

  “I’ve had the ringer off. Sorry. But Sammy’s here with me. What do you need?”

  “It’s Maria. We were watching her house but she gave us the slip—and she’s going to do something stupid—”

  “Well, she won’t be seeing Clayton—that’s for sure,” Dad said. “We’ve got a visual on Clayton right now. If she comes to meet him, we’ll intercept her.”

  What if Kingman was in Chokoloskee Bay? What if Maria told him the text was bogus and he was going to meet her just inside the mouth of the Lopez? Maybe she wasn’t going to do Watson’s Run alone after all. “Where are you?”

  Another pause. “Gator Hook Trail.”

  “And he’s there?” So, Maria definitely didn’t tell Clayton about the bogus rendezvous text. “You’re sure it’s him?”

  Dad chuckled. “Oh yeah. He’s been here for nearly an hour. Pacing like he’s expecting her any minute—and we’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen. We got an anonymous tip that he was going to be at the trailhead—and it was a good one.”

  It wasn’t hard to figure that Maria was somehow behind the “tip” that pretty well guaranteed her dad couldn’t stop her. Did she have Rosie make the call? One way or another, Maria had planned everything out. “She’s not going to Gator Hook Trail. She’s doing Watson’s Run.”

  Dad hesitated. “You’re sure.” The urgency in his dad’s voice was unmistakable.

  “I saw her leave—I tried to stop her—”

  “When did she put in?”

  “Twenty-five minutes ago. Maybe thirty. From Smallwood’s.”

  Dad groaned. “Sammy, we gotta go back. Floor it.”

  Even over the phone he could hear the engine roar. “What can I do, Dad? Tell me what to do.”

  “Nothing you can do.” His voice was louder now, practically shouting over the sound of the wind. “You did plenty getting us this intel. Keep your phone on you. Be safe. We got this. Thanks, son.” He disconnected.

  There had to be something he could do. Dad and Uncle Sammy were too far out. By the time they drove back and got on the water, she’d have a crazy long lead on them. Too long.

  Parker should have felt better. Hey, the grown-ups had this. They’d think of something, right? But he still felt like garbage.

  “I emptied it so we can ride.” Wilson held up the gas can. “But I know where we can g
et more after we get closer to the boat. Now we can make time—and catch up to Maria.”

  But too much time had been lost. And Maria had things too well planned. That mass of dread in Parker’s gut felt heavier. They might get to the mouth of the Lopez fast, but once they started up the river they wouldn’t be going any faster than a kayak would. They’d never catch up to her. They wouldn’t even get close.

  CHAPTER 44

  Fishing Hole Marina, Chokoloskee

  Saturday, September 19

  9:16 p.m.

  “THIS WAS YOUR PLAN?” Parker straddled his bike at the fringes of the marina, his feet on the ground. “Boosting gas?”

  Wilson climbed into a Carolina Skiff sitting on a trailer parked in the shadows. “If the owner of this boat found you stranded in the bay with an empty tank, you think he’d offer you some gas? He’d give it to you gladly.” He reached over and grabbed the empty tank from Parker’s hands. “So this isn’t stealing. And we won’t take more than a couple gallons anyway. You can fill the guy’s tank tomorrow if you want.”

  “It’s stealing—and there’s nothing right with that.” He dug in his pocket.

  “What do you need?”

  “Cash. I’m not going to take the gas without leaving him money.” He fished out a five-dollar bill. It wouldn’t be enough. “Do you have a pen? I’ve got to at least leave a note.”

  “Seriously, Bucky?” Wilson’s tone sounded more disgusted than anything. “While you’re playing Mr. Perfect here, Maria is getting away. You okay with that?”

  Parker wasn’t okay with any of it. But Wilson was right about one thing. They just had to get out there. Find Maria. Fast. “Let’s go.” He slipped the money under the edge of the outboard’s gas tank with enough of it hanging out for the owner to spot it. He wouldn’t want the guy going into the bay thinking he had more gas than he did. “But I’ll be back tonight to make this right.”