Escaping wasn’t the answer. And honestly, was escape even possible? He looked at the scars on his arm. He’d carry them with him wherever he went. Hadn’t Wilson and Jelly told him something like that?
“Did you read my article yet?” Mom said it quietly, like she wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to see it or not. “There’s a copy pinned to Dad’s corkboard. It might bring you a little closure.”
“Maybe I’ll do that now,” he said.
She smiled—in a sad kind of way.
Parker shuffled around stacks of boxes and headed for his dad’s office. The local paper was on the desk, opened to the page where the story had been neatly clipped from it and tacked to the corkboard. Parker hesitated in front of it, and the story sucked him in.
Search Efforts End for Missing Girl
By Elizabeth Buckman
Maria Malnatti, honor roll senior at Everglades City School, paddled up the Lopez River just after sunset on September 19 . . . and never returned.
Parker studied her yearbook photo embedded in the column. She was looking directly into the camera. No. Directly at Parker.
Never returned. “Never” was one of those trick words. Like always. When one of them showed up in a test question, it was a sure bet the statement was false. But when it came to Maria returning, the word never just might be true.
After three days that brought more questions than answers, search and recovery efforts were officially discontinued Tuesday.
A series of captioned photos broke up the story. Doing Watson’s Run . . . wish me luck! The same selfie Maria had posted on Instagram. Paddle in one hand. Setting sun silhouetting mangroves behind her.
Paddling the deadly route known as Watson’s Run has become a kind of unofficial rite of passage for some high school seniors here in Florida’s Miami-Dade County. Miles through the black water labyrinth of the untamed Glades. In a kayak. At night. Alone.
Despite warnings from park rangers, school officials, and parents, every year the number of students making the night passage increases. Nobody knows how a thing like this starts. But in Maria’s case, this is how it ends. A young girl goes missing . . . and a family is lost.
So, she didn’t mention anything about this being an act of desperation on Maria’s part. A way to lash back because of how they’d tried to keep her away from Clayton. Mom probably saw no point in it.
Parker skimmed the rest. More photos—and Maria’s text about this being a bad idea.
Parker squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of Maria was burned into his retinas. “Definitely a bad idea, Maria,” he whispered. “So was going out with Clayton. You deserved better.”
He spun in the chair away from the corkboard—and stared at the alligator skull on the bookcase. It had to be the one that tried to kill him.
And if he knew his dad and Uncle Sammy, there’d be another gator skull soon. But it would be on Uncle Sammy’s bookcase this time.
What if Maria ran into a monster alligator? What if he thrashed her kayak with his tail—hard enough to tip her? Crawley was definitely out there that night. If Crawley had roared up in his skiff, would she have climbed in?
For sure. She’d have climbed in with the devil himself to get away from a monster gator.
It was nearly ten when Wilson texted.
Found out where he lives. Just got back from scoping it out. Crawley is the king of creepiness.
Parker’s heart spiked—and he texted back.
Do you think . . . he hesitated . . . he has her?
Got a ride and did a drive-by. Didn’t get close enough to tell. But saw enough from the road to know this guy is seriously demented enough to do anything.
Parker whipped off a response.
We’ll go right after school. You in?
Wilson’s answer came back in record time.
100%. Your dad green-lighted this?
Parker definitely was getting ahead of himself.
I’ll convince him. Somehow. Which was likely going to be tougher now that Mom was home.
Tell your dad we’ll go by water. Safer. Quicker. Bring your binoculars and we won’t get near the place.
Parker wished they could go now. If Crawley had Maria, how could she take another night with him? He texted Wilson again.
I’ll bring the knife. Gator stick. Binoculars. What else?
Parker’s phone vibrated almost immediately.
Diapers. We’re going to need them.
CHAPTER 58
ANGELICA HAD WAITED UNTIL LONG after dark before kicking her own little plan into gear. It meant riding back out to the Boy’s Bomb and doing more than just swiping his transom plug this time. She had to stop him from doing something stupid, even if it meant doing something awful to his boat.
And she actually did it . . . she pulled it off, but it gave her no “mission accomplished” satisfaction. Parker loved his boat—and she hated to imagine how this would hurt him. She gave the boat one last inspection, then buried the can of black spray paint in her pack. This had to make her the worst best friend in the world. Suddenly she couldn’t get past the feeling she was being watched. What if Creepy Crawley was here somewhere?
She mounted her bike on the run. Angelica had never felt more alone in her life than on that ride back home—or more like a traitor to the best friend she ever had. She pedaled hard—and was soaked in sweat by the time her home was back in sight. She didn’t have to worry about Dad meeting her at the door, asking questions. Why did you go out at ten o’clock? Where were you? Obviously he wasn’t even home. In fact, he was almost never home since he’d rushed off with Parker’s dad to search for Maria Saturday night.
But the search for Maria was over. What was Dad still doing out there at night? But then she had a pretty good idea, didn’t she? He believed an alligator grabbed her, and he was going to find it. Exact some revenge. This whole thing was such a tangled mess. She wanted to pray. Needed to. But somehow the words wouldn’t come.
She pulled into the driveway, coasted her bike to a stop, and turned off the light. She leaned it against the side of the shed and hurried toward the house.
“Well look who finally showed up.” A figure stepped out from the darkness shadowing the back door. Clayton Kingman.
Angelica took a step back—panic tightening around her like a strangler vine. “What are you—”
“You and I have a bond.” Clayton stepped closer. “Secrets. But I can’t have you getting weak and caving on me. We share a secret, you and I. And I want to make sure it stays that way.”
“Are you threatening me now?”
Clayton grinned, but his eyes were wide with anger. “Am I?”
“You promised to leave Parker alone if I kept Maria’s secret.”
“Yeah, well I’ve had a lot of time to rethink that. It just wouldn’t be right—letting the ranger’s kid think he got away with all he did to me.”
“He’s moving,” Angelica said. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
He stood there for a moment—like maybe he was weighing it out. Dark shadows pooled in his eye sockets like there were no eyes there at all. And if eyes were the windows to his soul, maybe he didn’t have a soul, either.
“I’m keeping Maria’s secret. Your secret.” She wasn’t going to beg, but her voice definitely sounded like she was already on her knees. “Two days—and he’s gone. He won’t find out—and he loses. You win.”
His jaw clenched, and he gave a single nod. “Keep your secrets—and I’ll hold off on my plans for Parker for another day—or two.” He backed away. “If you talk,” he pointed at her, “you’ll only have yourself to blame for what happens.” He gave a quick shoulder check and disappeared around the side of the house.
She stood there for a moment, too stunned to move. Then she rushed to the house and bolted the door behind her.
Angelica pressed her back against the door. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” She tried to steady her breathing. Promised her
self she’d never talk to him again. “He’s gone. Gone.” How had she gotten herself into this mess—and how was she going to get out?
Instinctively she pulled out her phone and dialed her dad.
He answered immediately. “Angelica, you okay?”
No she wasn’t.
“Angelica?”
“I just needed to hear your voice.” What she really needed was to tell him what was going on. But she couldn’t. Not yet. “When are you coming home?”
A long pause. “You know what? I think I’m ready to hang it up now. I still won’t make it home until midnight or later.”
“Maybe I’ll wait up for you.” Normally being up that late would never happen. But their home life hadn’t been normal in a long time. “But if I’m asleep, you wake me, okay?”
“Count on it.”
Just hearing Dad’s voice helped. But until he got home she needed to escape. She just wanted to pop her earbuds in and get her mind off Clayton Kingman and his threats. But the thought of Clayton creeping around somewhere was still unnerving. So no earbuds. She had to be smart so she’d hear if someone was outside—and definitely wanted to hear Dad’s truck when he pulled in the driveway.
She wished she could tell Dad everything. But that would make things even worse, wouldn’t it? The secrets were killing her, but they were the only way to keep Parker alive. And it was for her dad’s own good too, wasn’t it? He was a good dad. He did the best he could. But he didn’t operate with the same set of rules as Parker’s dad did. If Dad found out the truth, he’d hunt Clayton down—and likely even Uncle Vaughn wouldn’t be able to stop him. Then they’d be in an even worse mess.
Angelica sat at the kitchen table with paper and pen and started writing. Everything. Every thought that came to mind. For the moment, she was safe. If Clayton intended to hurt her, he’d have done it when he caught her outside, right? And she was pretty sure Parker was safe for another day as well—at least from Clayton. But it wouldn’t last. She was certain about that.
“Oh God,” she whispered. “There’s no way out. Clayton’s got to be stopped—but I’m not strong enough. I know that now. Help me. Please. Forgive me for the mess I’ve made.” She didn’t deserve God’s help, but He was the only one who could.
It was nearly midnight before her emotions steadied. But a deep emptiness settled in and clung to her like her sweat-soaked T-shirt. It was the lies. Deception. The secrets. They were becoming a family thing. Her Dad was keeping things from her. Like the money he’d given to Parker’s dad. Not that it mattered now, but what was that all about? And why all the secrecy about his night hours in the Everglades? Why didn’t he just admit he was hunting the alligator with Uncle Vaughn? Maybe tonight she’d ask him to be straight with her.
Suddenly she sucked in her breath—and knew exactly why he hadn’t told her. To tell Angelica would be to admit he had no hope of finding Maria—and that he’d stopped looking. He wasn’t trying to deceive Angelica. He just didn’t have the heart to tell her the awful truth.
But the real deception was hers. She’d known Maria’s plan but didn’t tell a soul. Keeping a secret was its own kind of torture. And she knew for all the searching Parker was doing he’d never, ever, find Maria in the Everglades. Or at Crawley’s.
And unless she was able to stop Parker some other way, he was going to check out Crawley—no matter what she said. He wouldn’t listen to reason.
And she couldn’t tell him the truth.
He’d practically forced her to do what she did to his boat tonight. She had to be out in front, playing offense instead of defense. And that meant sabotaging any possibility of him going into the Everglades to check out Crawley or the Lopez River. Taking the new transom plug was a little too obvious, wasn’t it? But it was just as effective as lifting the five-gallon gas tank from the boat—and a whole lot easier to bring home. And it would buy her a little more time.
If that didn’t work, maybe the spray paint would throw a scare into him. She hated herself for what she did to the Boy’s Bomb. He’d never guess it was her.
And she would never tell him.
It would be another lie—another sin. Why would God listen to the prayer of someone who kept lying?
Instantly the claustrophobic sense of complete isolation closed in. She was pretending to help Parker, but secretly working against him. She wasn’t just telling lies; she was pretty much living a lie. But she was trapped—and desperate enough to keep doing it. What kind of an awful person did that make her?
One horrible sinner who was desperately trying to save her best friend’s life.
CHAPTER 59
PARKER HEARD DAD’S TRUCK CRUNCH up the gravel drive just after midnight. He peered out the window and watched Dad trudge to the house. It was obvious by the way he walked that he didn’t have any good news about Maria.
Mom flew out of the house, threw her arms around him, and didn’t let go. They stood there holding each other, talking so quietly that Parker couldn’t make out a thing they said, even with the window open.
Parker slumped down on his bed, happy the family was all together again, but still feeling a deep sadness that he couldn’t shake. Minutes later he heard the microwave ding, and Parker got up and walked into the kitchen.
Dad twirled his fork deep into a pile of their reheated spaghetti dinner. He gave Parker a tired smile.
Parker slid onto a chair across the table. “How about telling me what you’ve been doing since the search officially ended?”
Dad looked at him for a moment. “Fair question.” He glanced at Mom.
She nodded. “Tell him.”
“Sammy and I have been gator hunting.”
Just as he’d thought. Did it mean they’d totally given up on finding Maria—or were they looking for proof that she was dead?
“At first Uncle Sammy wanted to slaughter any gator he saw,” Dad said, “but we’ve been focused on the Sunday Bay area.”
Okay, so they believed there was a monster gator, like the one Maria mentioned in her post. “Did you get him?”
Dad shook his head. “We opened a couple twelve-footers. But they were clean.”
Meaning there were no human remains found in their guts?
“We thought Maria was exaggerating when she mentioned the monster gator. We’ve never seen one that big in that area.”
Mom hugged Dad’s arm, leaning into him. “I’ll be so glad to get out of this place.”
Parker knew the feeling.
“But last night we saw him.” Dad paused—like he wasn’t sure he should say more. “And believe me, Maria wasn’t stretching the truth. He’s a brute. Every bit of fourteen feet. More like fifteen.”
A chill flashed through Parker. If they’d killed it, he’d have given the exact length, wouldn’t he? “You will get him, though, right?”
Dad nodded. “He’s priority one. We only have two more days—and he didn’t grow that big by being stupid. But, yeah. We’ll get him.”
“Like you got the one that did this.” Parker raised his gimpy arm.
Dad and Mom exchanged a quick glance. But it made Parker just that much more sure he was right.
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You think I hunted and euthanized the gator that pulled you off Typhoon?”
“Uncle Sammy brought over a skull—the right size—just a couple weeks later. You put it in your office like a trophy. Oh yeah. I’m sure that’s exactly what happened.”
Dad raised one hand like he was taking an oath. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny that allegation. But I can say on good authority that gator will never hurt my son—or anyone else—ever again.”
“You’re going to get this one, too.”
Dad’s jaw muscles clenched and unclenched. “He’s smart. Really smart. But we’ll have Goliath’s head.”
“Goliath?” Mom shook her head. “You named him?”
“The name suits him.”
Parker wanted to hunt with them. Wanted to see Goliath roll over de
ad. Wanted to see Dad and Uncle Sammy take his head. But there was no way they’d let him near this one. Especially when they opened its belly to see if there were any remains there. And Parker had his own things to do anyway. Like getting to Crawley’s place.
“What did you name mine?”
Dad looked at him for a long moment. “Dillinger.”
“You never told me that,” Mom said. “The gangster bank robber from back in the 1930s?”
“He was Public Enemy Number One. On the FBI’s Most Wanted list.” Dad shrugged. “That gator was number one on my list. Sammy’s too.”
“Dillinger,” Parker said. “Great name choice. And you’re sure it was the one, right?”
“Positive. Found your watch in its gut.”
“Seriously?”
Mom hugged Dad’s arm again. “I wish we were leaving tomorrow.”
“Saturday,” Dad said. “But until then, I need every hour I can get.”
Parker’s thoughts exactly. His mind flashed to the money hidden in Dillinger’s throat. Whatever happened to Maria, it obviously had nothing to do with that payment.
But if Dad and Uncle Sammy were hunting an alligator now, and had totally given up on Maria, shouldn’t he at least talk to him about the Crawley angle? Had they even considered that Maria was taken?
“Dad.” Parker wasn’t sure how to start. Just say it, Parker. Do it. “Could this be a kidnapping?” He told them all about Crawley—and how the creepy guy had watched Maria leave in her kayak Saturday night.
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