The kayak seemed to be resting against a mostly submerged log. True, there could be millions of submerged logs similar to that. But at that angle? With two cypress knees peeking out of the surface like a pair of gator eyes? There was only one spot that looked exactly like that in the entire Everglades. He closed his eyes—but still saw every detail. Okay . . . the picture was definitely locked in his memory.
“You searched the area really well, right?” It was a stupid question, but he had to ask.
Dad nodded. “We scanned the water. Waded through it. Yeah, we checked it good.”
Waded through it—like they were looking for her body? “How about back—away from the river?”
“Back there?” Dad pointed at the dense growth in the picture. “We waded back in there too. We shouted for her. Saw nothing. Heard nothing.”
“But what if she was trying to get away from the river?”
“There was no dry ground, Parker. The entire area was underwater.”
Dad’s phone chimed in Parker’s hand. Dad reached for it, and reluctantly Parker handed it back. He’d hoped to scroll through any other pictures his dad took and lock those in the memory vault too.
Dad checked the text. Answered back. It didn’t look like the news was great.
“How can we help, Dad?” But he already had an idea of how he wanted to help, didn’t he?
Dad looked at him for a long moment. “We’ve got plenty of people searching.”
“The Bomb can handle the Lopez. We’ve done it before.” Not all the way to Sunday Bay, though.
Dad looked like he was thinking it over. But Parker knew Dad didn’t want him anywhere near that area. The protector instinct was hardwired into him. And he’d put in for the transfer just to get Parker out before something worse happened, right? Dad put himself in danger every time he ventured into the Everglades, but it didn’t seem to bother him. It was his job, and his faith in God was strong. But he wasn’t quite so relaxed when it came to Parker.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better,” Wilson said, “I’ll go with him.”
Parker was pretty sure that wouldn’t make Dad feel any better.
“For now, let’s not glom up the river with too many boats. I think I’d feel best knowing you were on land.”
Parker groaned inside. Dad wanted to keep him safe. He got that. But Dad was protecting a little too much right now. Everybody was. “Dad. Please. It’s daylight—and there will be other boats around. I can’t sit back while everyone else is out searching.” Did his dad have any idea how horrible he’d feel if he couldn’t help in the rescue effort?
Dad ran both hands through his hair. “Parker.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Dad looked at him for a long moment. “If I were your age . . . look, I get it.” He stared out at the bay for several long moments. “But—”
“I’ve got to, Dad. Please.” Parker gave every reason he could think of to convince his dad. Gave him everything he had—without giving his dad a chance to speak. “Dad, let me do this.”
Dad squeezed his eyes shut. Wrestling with his own thoughts—or maybe praying.
Parker resisted the urge to charge back in and beg some more. He glanced at Wilson, who looked like he was holding his breath.
“Okay,” Dad said. “I’m going to let you go in, but here’s the way it’s going down. If you have a problem with any one of these ground rules, you can just stay here. Got it?”
Parker would agree to just about anything right now.
“You stay in the boat. Under no condition do you get out—you got that?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t go toolin’ around in the Boy’s Bomb alone. Understood?”
Wilson raised his hand. “I’ll be with him all the way.”
Dad nodded. “You bring food. Water. Your survival knife. Machete. Even that gator stick you made. You go in with a full tank of gas—and a three-gallon spare. And the spare prop and tools.”
“Done.”
“And you keep your phone on, bring a recharge stick, and you text me every thirty minutes—without fail.”
Parker would text every five minutes if that’s what it took.
“You’re back before dark. On shore. Got it?”
He gave his dad a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’ve been honest with me,” Dad said. “That earns you trust. Don’t disappoint me, son.”
Parker wouldn’t dream of it. He squeezed his dad hard.
“Very cool, Mr. Buckman,” Wilson said. “I’ll get him back safe.”
Hopefully without Parker needing a tourniquet this time.
“You won’t regret this, Dad.”
Dad stepped back from Parker and smiled. “I already do. So you better get going before I change my mind.” He waggled his phone. “If I get an update, I’ll call you, pronto. You two keep your phones close.”
That was a given. And not just to get updates from his dad. What if Maria fought off some rogue gator out there? Or what if there was someone stalking her like she’d feared? Maybe she ditched the kayak and got inside the tree line where a poacher’s skiff couldn’t go. Maybe she was still on foot somewhere in the shallow water. Maybe she was having a hard time picking up a signal. But when she did, she’d call somebody. She’d tell them where she was so they could get her out of there. It made perfect sense. In that terrain—and at night—she probably hadn’t sloshed her way more than a half mile from the kayak. The area where the kayak was found had to be searched again. That’s all there was to it.
Even if the spot looked like a million others to Wilson, Parker was going to find it. Dad and Uncle Sammy may have searched the area good, but now Parker was going to do a little checking there himself.
CHAPTER 49
ANGELICA SLUMPED AT THE KITCHEN TABLE. She felt like a zombie, and was pretty sure she looked like one too. She’d cried herself out hours ago. The past night had to be the worst night of Angelica’s life. And she was pretty sure this wasn’t going to be the last one.
She was tired of asking herself if she did the right thing. Of course she didn’t. But she wasn’t exactly given a choice.
Angelica dragged herself to her feet and trudged out of the house. Dad wanted her at the marina and needed her to bring him a fresh shirt. He’d be joining in the search again soon, and he wanted to see her before he left. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to see him.
Likely Dad figured that Angelica knew all about Maria’s plan. Parker’s call to his dad last night would have made that an easy guess. Dad would never understand why she didn’t tip him off soon enough to actually stop Maria. How would she face him?
CHAPTER 50
PARKER WAS ALREADY CALCULATING how many minutes it would take to gas up and gear up the Boy’s Bomb. Too many. But before they left the marina, there was one more thing he had to do.
“I need to see Maria’s kayak.” It made no sense, but there was a tiny part of him that had to be sure it was hers. What if someone else was doing Watson’s Run last night—and they just happened to have a red kayak? It was ridiculous, but he had to be certain, right?
Wilson nodded and took off at a fast jog to the pier where Dad and Uncle Sammy’s ranger skiff sat tied.
A red kayak sat lopsided on the dock. There was no question it was Maria’s. The traces of blue paint inside the lip of the cockpit were enough to confirm that. Parker pored over every inch of it with Wilson. They turned it over, checked the bottom, then set it upright again. No claw marks. Just normal scratches any kayak would have that got a lot of use.
“The hull is good,” Wilson said. “So she just tipped somehow?”
Maria could handle a kayak as good as anybody Parker knew. The only way she’d flip was if someone—or something—tipped her. Either scenario would have been imaginable from her last texts.
“Parker.” Wilson pointed to a nylon mesh bag attached to the inside of the cockpit.
A mosquito net was jammed in the bag. Noth
ing unusual about that. “What?”
His face looked dead serious. “Look closer.”
Parker had no idea how Wilson saw it, but there was something else. Parker unzipped the bag, dug behind the netting, and pulled out a waterproof case—with Maria’s phone inside.
The thing was still on—but the battery was dangerously low. Parker held it for a moment, piecing together what this meant.
But he knew.
If Maria was trying to get away from someone, or something . . . she’d have grabbed her phone. Unless there wasn’t time. Or—
Wilson whistled quietly. “Do you think a gator got her?”
“No.” Parker blurted it out. Truth was, he didn’t know anything. He rubbed down the buzzing in his gimpy arm.
But now that they had her phone, one thing was for sure. If Maria was back in the jungles along the Lopez River . . . she had no way of telling anyone she was alive.
CHAPTER 51
NEWS OF MARIA’S PHONE swept through the marina like a tidal wave, drowning every floundering shred of hope as it did. Parker hated that they’d been the ones who found her phone. Hated bringing it to Maria’s dad. Seeing the expression on his face.
Parker saw Jelly the minute she rode up on her bike.
She flew into her dad’s arms, and the two of them stood there clutching each other like they were afraid the other was going to be ripped away.
“She knew Maria was doing Watson’s Run—but didn’t tell her dad,” Wilson said. “Can you imagine how lousy she must feel now?”
Parker felt pretty lousy himself. Especially since the reason she kept her mouth shut was to protect Parker from Kingman. Whatever frustrations he’d felt with Jelly the night before totally melted away. She was his friend. She was hurting. And she needed his help. As much as he was chafing to join the search, he hated to go without saying something to her. But he had to give her some time with her dad first.
“Do you believe this?” Wilson scanned the scene. “Any of this?”
Uncle Sammy was still holding Jelly. Dad was with them now, too. “They act like Maria is . . .” He couldn’t finish the thought.
Wilson glanced at Parker. “You’ve got to admit, the odds of finding Maria in one piece are—” He clamped his hand over his mouth. “Poor choice of words.”
Parker didn’t want to go there. But he couldn’t help it. He pictured Maria in the black waters—her arm in the jaws of an alligator, and the gator kept rolling her over and over and over—
Parker headed for the marina parts department. “I’m going to get a new transom plug for the boat.”
Wilson stepped up alongside him. Minutes later they were back with the right plug.
Parker’s dad was off to one side deep in conversation with a couple of other rangers. Jelly was still hanging on her dad, but her eyes met Parker’s. She looked tortured. Parker stepped toward her.
“Bucky,” Wilson nudged him. “Looks like his Majesty is going to grace us with his presence.”
Clayton Kingman roared up in his pickup, towing his Whaler behind him . . . King of the Glades. He swung around and backed into position above the ramp. He jumped out, released the cinch straps and bow line winch hook, hustled back to the pickup, and backed his royal boat into the water.
Again, he burst out of the cab, holding a pump-action twelve-gauge shotgun this time. Flat coating—army green. Pistol grip. The one they’d seen the night of the tire fiasco.
“Nice cannon,” Wilson said. “A poacher’s weapon of choice.”
“For sure.” But having a shotgun like that along was smart, right? For most guys going into the Glades—either on an airboat or a skiff—a shotgun was as essential as a spare gas tank. It made a whole lot of sense to have a weapon aboard that had a chance of actually stopping a gator—even if you weren’t hunting them. It would be a whale of a lot more effective than a gator stick.
Uncle Sammy pulled free from Jelly and stormed toward the launch. Parker and Wilson followed.
Clayton sloshed through the water and propped the shotgun in the boat. He grabbed the bow line and pulled King of the Glades to the dock. Seconds later he parked the truck and ran for the boat.
Uncle Sammy was on Kingman before he got back to the pier. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Kingman almost pushed past him—but Uncle Sammy spun him around.
“I said, what are you doing here?”
Kingman didn’t look one bit intimidated. “Searching for my girl.”
“Not the thing to say to her dad, idiot,” Parker whispered. He inched closer.
“This I want to see,” Wilson said. “Maria’s dad will twist him into a pretzel.”
“I hope so.”
Uncle Sammy grabbed Kingman’s arm. “Get. Out.”
Kingman windmilled his arm free. “Back off.”
Uncle Sammy gave Kingman a chest-shove. “She never would have done something like this before she met you.”
“Don’t pin this on me.” Kingman shoved him back. “This was your fault, old man. You know it. And I know it.”
Uncle Sammy grabbed a handful of Kingman’s T-shirt and smashed his fist into Kingman’s face.
Kingman doubled over, but only for an instant.
“Hey, hey!” Parker’s dad ran for the dock now—along with two other rangers. Jelly followed close behind.
Kingman lunged at Uncle Sammy like all the pent-up frustrations of the breakup, the tires, and the bogus texts boiled out of him.
Uncle Sammy staggered backward—and Kingman kept coming. He took a wild swing at Uncle Sammy’s face, but the ranger dodged the blow.
Uncle Sammy had his legs under him again. He motioned Kingman closer. “C’mon, tough guy. Try that again.”
Parker’s dad was there. Between them. Arms outstretched to keep them apart. “Enough.”
Parker intercepted Jelly and held her back. Fists clenched, she tried to get past him like she wanted a piece of Kingman, too. Parker wrapped his arms around her—putting her in a human straightjacket. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, they don’t need you in the middle of this.”
“This is all on you, old man.” Kingman’s eye was already swelling. “If you weren’t so paranoid about us going out, Maria never would have done something so stupid. She’d have been with me last night. And I’d have gotten her home safe.”
“Safe? Nothing about you is safe!” Uncle Sammy lunged for Kingman.
Dad blocked his path. Two other rangers helped Dad hold Uncle Sammy back.
Uncle Sammy stretched to look past them. “You changed her.”
“She wanted change.” Kingman pointed at Uncle Sammy. “Mostly she wanted to get away from you.”
“That’s enough!” Dad gave Kingman the side-eye while still struggling to hold Uncle Sammy from pushing past. “Shut your ugly mug, dirtbag.”
Parker stared at his dad. He agreed with him—wanted to give him a medal or something—but Dad never talked like that. Not ever. How is it that Kingman could bring even him to do something he would never consider normally? Maybe it was Kingman’s special gift. The ability to bring out the worst in everyone.
The slightest smile creased Kingman’s face. Like he knew he could do more damage with his words than he ever could with his fists. He stabbed a finger at Uncle Sammy. “She only put up with you because she had me. The day she turned eighteen we were going to get married.”
Would Maria really be that stupid, to marry a guy like him? Jelly seemed to wilt in his arms—like she knew it was true. Parker relaxed his grip.
“That wasn’t going to happen,” Uncle Sammy said.
“Yeah, you busted us up.” Kingman took a step toward Uncle Sammy. “And obviously this was her way of lashing back. She couldn’t wait to get away from you—did you know that? You’re a lousy dad—and a worse ranger. No wonder Maria’s mom left you.”
Uncle Sammy seemed to deflate. Like all the fight drained out of him. Jelly slipped free from Parker and ran into her dad’s arms.
&
nbsp; Dad left Uncle Sammy to the other rangers and got in Kingman’s face. “Put a sock in it boy—or I will.”
Uncle Sammy just stood there, looking incredibly tired . . . and lost. Jelly leaned in close and whispered something in his ear.
Kingman raised both hands in surrender. “I’m done. You rangers can stand around and jaw all day. I’m going to look for my girl.”
Uncle Sammy came back to life—and Dad blocked his path to Kingman again.
Kingman backed toward his skiff. Face red. “I’m going to find her. And when I do, we’re going to get back together. Get used to the idea, old man.”
Wilson leaned toward Parker. “If what happened on the Lopez was a gator attack, it got the wrong person.”
Uncle Sammy struggled against Dad’s restraint. “If you get near my daughter again, I swear I’ll—”
“Do nothing.” Kingman glared at him. “Because that’s who you are. Mr. Ranger-Do-Nothing.” He turned and stalked to his Whaler.
“What did Maria ever see in him?” Wilson said.
Parker shook his head. He had no idea. But if it was true that the full-court press to keep Maria away from Kingman actually drove her to pull the crazy kayak stunt, Kingman didn’t just have a beef with Uncle Sammy. Parker was a big part of that, too.
“Time to go,” Parker said. Kingman was right about one thing. They were wasting time here. “We’ll bike home. I need to pack some supplies. Then to Smallwood’s Store to get the Boy’s Bomb. We’ll gas up—and head up the Lopez.”
“What about Jelly?”
She was still clinging to Uncle Sammy. The idea of talking to her seemed almost pointless. What would he say? Right now the best thing for everyone was to find Maria.
“I think she’ll want to stay close to her dad.” Parker backed away.
Wilson kept pace. “You do know you’re talking about going back in the Everglades. With snakes. And alligators.”
“You getting cold feet?”
Wilson laughed. “Just making sure you don’t. And what about the Everglades toll? You feel spooked at all—like there’s a target on your back?”
Escape from the Everglades Page 22