Escape from the Everglades

by Tim Shoemaker

  Jelly was dragging her feet, clearly in no hurry to climb into the boat. It seemed like she knew the second they were out on the water she’d be in a conversation she didn’t want to have.

  Parker leaned on the outboard motor. Maybe he didn’t need to be out on the water to hit them with his idea. “We have to try something different.”

  “Yeah. Like quitting,” Jelly said. “Honestly, I don’t think I can go up the Lopez one more time.”

  “Part of me still wants to get all the way up to Sunday Bay,” Parker said. “But I’m not sure there’s a point to it anymore.”

  “Amen,” Jelly said. “Finally you’re ready to stop this madness.”

  Sometimes Parker could not figure her out. How could she just give up on her sister that easily? “I’m not ready to quit. But we need to go somewhere the other searchers aren’t going.”

  “There are no more searchers,” Jelly said. “And they’ve checked every inch of that river.”

  Parker shrugged. “There’s one place nobody has tried.”

  Wilson untied the boat from the cypress. “Talk to me.”

  Jelly gave him a look that he couldn’t read. She sat on the edge of the Boy’s Bomb with her feet in the sand. She looked lost. Like she didn’t want to go out in the boat, and didn’t want to stay on the beach. Maybe she was feeling the need to escape the area for good just like Parker. But how could he leave without some answers?

  Parker grabbed the outboard motor with two hands, like their pastor grabbed the podium when he was about to say to say something important or shocking. “What if Crawley grabbed her? He saw her paddle off toward the river Saturday night—and Wilson . . . you said he launched within minutes of her.”

  “Creepy Crawley,” Wilson said. He seemed to be thinking about that one. “He lit out of that marina like a man possessed.”

  “So he just happened to be in the area,” Jelly said. “And then sees my sister and decided to go after her? Just like that? Even though both you and I saw him listening? He’d have to know he’d be a suspect. Sounds like a real stretch.”

  “He’s sick,” Parker said. “You saw how he treated you on the causeway. He saw an opportunity, and he took it.”

  “I think he could be our guy,” Wilson said. “That’s my two cents.”

  “Which is exactly what your opinion is worth.” Jelly stood abruptly and marched off toward Smallwood’s Store.

  Wilson jerked his thumb toward Jelly. “Where’s she going?”

  “Anywhere to get away from this conversation,” Parker said. “She just wants this to be over. But how could this ever be over unless we get answers?” Still, if Jelly needed space, Parker had to give it to her. He turned his back to the store so it wouldn’t look like he was watching her.

  Parker and Wilson sat there looking out over the water for what seemed like minutes. A skiff cut a straight line across the bay. The white foam wake spread behind it, like the boat was opening some giant zipper on the surface of the water.

  “So we have two theories now,” Wilson said. “One. Maria got tipped and eaten by a monster gator. Theory two. She got murdered by Crawley—then got dumped in the river. Either way, I think gators are part of—”

  “Thanks for that visual.” Parker stared at the scars on his arm. “And do not say that around Jelly.”

  “Fine,” Wilson said. “But let’s face it. One way or another, Maria’s gone.”

  Parker thought about that for a minute. “But what if Crawley didn’t kill her? What if he kidnapped her?”

  Wilson looked at him like he was crazy. “There was no ransom note. And what about the ripped sleeve?”

  “He could have planted the sleeve to throw everyone off the trail. And there’s no ransom because he wasn’t looking for money. He wanted her.”

  “Like he’s keeping her prisoner?” Jelly’s voice.

  Both Parker and Wilson whirled around. When did she get back—and how much had she heard?

  “That’s disgusting.” Jelly’s chin trembled when she spoke—like she was going to lose it. Yet there was a fire in her eyes, so maybe she was shaking with anger. “And your theory is so out there, Parker—it’s beyond a stretch.”

  There was no sense arguing with her.

  “Hold on,” Wilson said. “I’ve heard stories of girls—”

  “Stop, Wilson!” Jelly took a step back, hands plastered over her ears. “Can’t you ever just know when to stop?”

  Wilson raised both hands. “Just trying to help.”

  “You really want to help? Really?” Jelly got all in his face. “Then drop the whole thing. I don’t want that ride in the bay anymore,” Jelly said. “You two go out without me.”

  Like that was really going to happen. The ride in the bay was over. Parker walked around to Jelly’s side of the boat. “Look, do you really believe Maria is . . . you know . . . dead? I mean deep down.” They were sisters, right? If Maria was alive, shouldn’t Jelly have some sort of sense that she was?

  She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I just can’t get away from it—but I need to. I can’t stomach it anymore.”

  Okay, Parker got it. This was incredibly hard for her. But how could he leave the state Saturday without exhausting every option? He’d be living over a thousand miles away, wondering if Maria was Creepy Crawley’s prisoner. “I just thought maybe we can poke around his place a little. Just check it out.”

  Wilson perked up at that suggestion. “I’m up for that.”

  “You’re both out of your mind if you go within a mile of wherever that pervert lives.” Jelly hugged herself. “One way or another Maria’s gone and she’s not coming back. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  But what if Crawley hauled her off to his lair with some demented plan to keep her? Parker shook his head. “Leave it at that?”

  “Go to the police with your theories if you want,” Jelly said. “Let them deal with him.”

  “They’d have to get court orders,” Parker said, “and that would take time—something we don’t have.”

  “I want to go home. The search for Maria is over,” Jelly whispered. “Why can’t you just accept that?”

  The search was over? Not the way Parker saw it. This new Crawley angle just gave him a new place to look.

  CHAPTER 56

  NOBODY DID MUCH TALKING as they pedaled away from Smallwood’s Store. Which was fine by Wilson. He was tired of trying to think through all this stuff. It really wasn’t all that complicated. In a way, Wilson felt bad for Bucky. Clearly he thought there was still hope of finding Maria. But she had likely become part of the food chain within hours of paddling into the Everglades. Sometimes the obvious answer was the right one.

  The fact that Bucky really thought Maria could be alive was bizarre. Even though he hadn’t lived in the area for even a year yet, Bucky knew way better than most just how deadly the Glades could be.

  If Wilson had been with Maria when her kayak capsized in Sunday Bay, she’d have been fine. He knew how to survive, and he’d have gotten her out of the Glades safely with or without a kayak. The Everglades were deadly, but Wilson would have been okay. He knew the ancient laws of the Everglades. He knew which boundaries he could cross—and which were sacred. Maria couldn’t possibly have survived—because she’d been alone. Maria had no more chance of surviving this long in the Everglades than a snowman would.

  The idea of Crawley creeping on her was an interesting twist. But it was pretty much a shot in the dark. Not that Crawley wasn’t a loony bird—and there were a handful of guys just like him in the area. Wilson would rather come face-to-face with a fourteen-foot gator than with some of the locals. But there were just too many holes in Parker’s theory. Like, exactly how did Crawley get Maria into his boat?

  But checking out Crawley would be an adventure. Wilson was pretty sure the guy lived in the remote areas on the fringes of the Everglades. It would be crazy risky—and a total rush.

  “Parker,” An
gelica said. “Promise me you won’t go looking for Crawley’s place.”

  Bucky didn’t answer.

  “Wilson? Promise me.”

  “If he’s going—I promise I won’t let him go alone,” Wilson said. “That’s the honest truth.”

  “You two don’t get it,” Jelly said. She growled once and pedaled harder—like she was trying to work out some of her frustrations on the bike.

  Jelly was the one who didn’t get it. She didn’t understand guys. Period. As long as Maria was missing, Bucky would do whatever it took to find some answers. And as long as Bucky kept looking, Wilson would stick with him. It was as simple as that.

  There was an upside to Bucky thinking Maria was alive. He was running out of time to find her. Which meant he’d be desperate. He’d go deeper into the Glades. Further out of his comfort zone—which would bring him smack-dab into Wilson’s.

  Bucky was leaving, and Wilson would lose his adventure partner. If Bucky really had to leave the Everglades, he might as well do something over the top. Something he’d never forget. He needed to go out with a bang.

  Checking out Crawley might be the wildest adventure they’d had yet. Wilson would do some quick research—find out where the crazy lived. Then he and Bucky would do some recon together. So what if Wilson didn’t think Crawley had anything to do with Maria’s fate? If Bucky thought Crawley was involved, Wilson would definitely be open to checking the guy out.

  A plan began to form in Wilson’s head, one that would test even his own limits. Wilson smiled.

  “Listen, guys.” Jelly clamped on the brakes and fishtailed to a stop.

  Wilson swerved to miss colliding—and clipped Bucky instead. They managed to avoid going down, and stopped just beyond Jelly. “Are you trying to kill us?”

  “Actually,” she said, “I’m trying to keep you alive. Trust me on this: Crawley is a dead end. Just leave him alone. He didn’t attack my sister. He didn’t kidnap my sister.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  Jelly hesitated. “Call it a hyper sense of women’s intuition. Whatever happened to Maria, she did it to herself, okay?”

  “Easy, Jelly,” Wilson said. “We’re trying to help.”

  “You want to help?” Jelly looked from Wilson to Bucky—and back. “You really want to help? Then how about helping me get my mind off Maria for a couple days. Let’s just hang out together.”

  Bucky stared at the ground. Wilson didn’t need to be a psychic to know what he was thinking.

  “I am asking you both—as friends—to let this go,” Jelly said.

  Wilson shrugged and looked at Bucky. Jelly eyeballed him too—like both of them knew this was really Bucky’s call.

  Bucky toed the ground. “You’re hurting. I get that. Something terrible happened to Maria. But nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “That is such a guy thing to say,” Jelly said. “You think you can just Superman your way through this?”

  Bucky’s eyes darted to his scarred arm and back. “No, but I don’t have the fear like I did before. I know God’s got this. And He’s got me.”

  Wilson had definitely seen the changes in Bucky.

  “The Everglades curse,” Jelly said. “The toll. You’re forgetting about that.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff,” Wilson said.

  “I don’t”—she tapped her head—“up here. But something in my heart says there are strange things in this universe that we don’t understand. And this is one of them. What about Jericho—are you forgetting that?”

  “This isn’t Jericho, Jelly,” Parker said. “There’s no curse here.”

  “I want to believe that, Parker. Honest I do.” She hesitated. “Back when we lived in Colorado, you told me about the Garden of Eden and the serpent—remember that?”

  Parker nodded.

  “What did God do to all snakes because the one had deceived Eve?”

  “This isn’t the Garden of—”

  “Say it, Parker. What did God do?”

  Parker hesitated for just a moment. “He cursed snakes.”

  Now this was getting interesting to Wilson. “Seriously? How did I not know that?”

  “It’s true. Snakes have been cursed by God since the beginning.” Jelly looked from Parker to Wilson and back. “Well, the Everglades are crawling with snakes. Rattlers. Cottonmouths. Pythons. Coral snakes. Even anacondas. If snakes are cursed creatures—and this place is loaded with snakes—is it so hard to believe the place could be even a tiny bit cursed?”

  Bucky shook his head. “You’re mixing superstition in with Christianity—and that doesn’t work, Jelly.”

  “Honestly,” Wilson said. “I think she’s making some great sense. For once.”

  Jelly acted like she didn’t even hear him. She kept her focus on Bucky, like she knew he was the one to convince. “Can you tell me you’ve never felt the presence of evil in this place?”

  “I’ve definitely felt it,” Wilson said. “My people—”

  “I want to hear it from Parker, Wilson.”

  Bucky looked down, like maybe he was remembering a specific time—or place. “You know I have. But a presence of evil isn’t the same as a curse. And God is stronger than any present evil. That’s what I believe.”

  “Well, I guess you’re just a way better Christian than I am.”

  “Jelly, hold on—”

  “No, you hold on.” Her eyes were pleading. “You almost got killed in the Everglades, Parker. Clayton threatened to kill you if he caught you out there. And now you’re talking about snooping around Crawley’s place—a guy who looks like he’s already killed? We’ve made it this far. There’s two more days of school—and then the moving van. Let’s not be stupid. Just stay out of the Everglades, okay? Let’s not give Crawley, Clayton—or the curse, as crazy as it sounds—a chance at you.”

  Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. “I hear you, Jelly. Really, I do. And I know the Glades can be absolutely deadly. But not because there’s a toll. There’s no curse. I believe God is in control. And you’re a Christian, Jelly. Deep down you know He’s got this, right? Even if there was a curse, God is stronger. You know He can protect me—all of us.”

  “Sometimes I do.” Jelly wouldn’t look at him. “But you almost died in the Glades. I can’t forget that.”

  “Almost,” Bucky said. “That’s the key word. God saved me. That makes me more confident. And if it’s His plan, He’ll do it again.”

  “If it’s His plan?” Jelly’s words came out as more of a wail than a question. “We don’t know His plan. He doesn’t run it by us—right? So let’s use our heads. Play it safe.”

  The way Wilson saw it? The longer they talked, the wider the gap was growing between them. This was going nowhere.

  “There’s no safer way to play this than to give this whole situation to God—our safety included—and trust Him,” Bucky said. “I know you’re afraid, and frustrated . . . but I have to check out this last angle. I don’t know if I can live with myself if I don’t.”

  Jelly shook her head. “And I’m afraid you won’t live if you do.”

  CHAPTER 57

  PARKER’S MOM HAD BEEN BUSY. When he stepped inside the house, it looked more like a warehouse than a home. Boxes stacked almost everywhere. Except Dad’s office, and Parker’s room. They hadn’t been touched.

  And somehow, even with all the packing, she’d had time to do interviews and write an article for the local paper. She was amazing.

  “You’ve got two days,” Mom said. “Do whatever you’d like to find closure on the Maria tragedy—but Saturday you’re all mine.”

  She was beyond amazing. Somehow, she knew he had some things he had to finish before he left the Everglades. He pulled her into a tight, quick hug. “I’ll do a little before school each day. I’ll get the rest boxed first thing Saturday.” It wouldn’t take him much more than a couple of hours. And now he’d have all the time he needed to check Crawley out. Hopefully Wilso
n was already working on that. He pulled out his phone.

  Mom got that serious look on her face. “How are you doing?”

  “I’d be better if I just knew.”

  “We all would, sweetie.” She looked like she was ready to cry. “Want to talk about it?”

  He knew what that meant. It was all about processing Maria’s death. And that would have to wait until he was sure she was gone. He shook his head. “Not yet.” There’d be plenty of time to talk on the drive north. “I wish we’d never moved here. Bad things keep happening.”

  “Come here.” She drew him into a hug. “It’s going to be all right.”

  One of those things parents said when they had no answers. When they were pretty sure there wasn’t a thing they could do to change things. But everything wasn’t going to be all right. It never really would—if Parker didn’t know what happened to Maria.

  The truth was, they were no closer to finding Maria than they were Sunday morning. The Glades were sort of like the black holes in space. Dark. Mysterious. Deadly. The Everglades had a way of drawing people in—and keeping some of them forever. Was Maria one of them? Parker only had two days to find out. The moving van was coming Saturday afternoon, whether they found her or not.

  “For months I’ve wanted to get away from here. To escape. But now that it’s really coming, all I want to do is slow it down.”

  Mom gave him a squeeze. “Funny. When I was in Boston, I couldn’t wait to get back to Dad and you. But getting here didn’t make my problems go away. I just had more shoulders to help carry them.”

  And in that moment, he knew that moving away from the Everglades wasn’t the answer. Ever since that day on Typhoon, Parker had felt like he didn’t belong here. He’d known it. He’d believed moving would solve everything. But he was just fooling himself, wasn’t he?

  So many wanted to escape their situation. If I only had a different mom. A different dad. Different brother or sister. If I only had a different face. Body. If I only could get out of this school. If somebody said any one of those things to Parker, he’d have told them they’d never find an escape by going to a new place. And they’d never get more than a temporary escape with more screen time or their music. There were kids at school who were already surrendering to drugs or alcohol to find escape. But like so many things, they were temporary escapes. Dead ends. Parker could have told them that. So why had he believed a change in address would make all the difference for himself?