She pushed through the stall door and opened the bathroom door a crack. The coast was clear. “I’m here.” She glanced down the hall again. “But they’re not.” And she had a pretty good idea where the boys were. She fought back a sense of panic. She walked out the bathroom door and trotted for the exit nearest the bike rack. She needed to be sure.
“You sound out of breath. You all right?”
“No.” She half wailed it. “I don’t know. I think I really messed up.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
But how could he be so sure it would be okay this time? He didn’t know what she had done.
“Angelica?”
She ran the last thirty feet to the glass doors, hit the crash bars—and stopped the moment she got outside.
Wilson’s bike was gone. They were going for the camera themselves. “No. No.”
“Angelica . . . talk to me.” The concern in his voice was unmistakable now.
“I can’t.” Tell him. Tell him. He’s your dad. He’s there for you. You can’t handle this anymore.
“Baby—you’re scaring me,” Dad said. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head. Tears burned in her eyes. Tell him. Tell him.
“Let me help you. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Big trouble. I’ve been keeping things from you. Lying.”
A slight pause. “But you’re talking to me now. That’s all that matters.”
She glanced back at the school entrance . . . afraid Principal Kingman might stop her. “I can’t talk to you over the phone.”
“I’m out in the hospital hallway,” her dad said. “Nobody is around. It’s just you and me. No twenty questions this time, baby. What have you been keeping from me?”
This was it. A direct question. The lies needed to stop. Tell him.
“Angelica . . . you have to tell me what’s going on. I can help you. I want to help you.”
And she desperately needed help. If she really believed Clayton would hurt Parker, how long would it take for him to really hurt Maria too? She took a couple of deep breaths.
“Maria . . . is . . . alive.”
Silence.
“I can explain, but there’s no time.”
“We’ve been through this, baby.”
“No—she’s alive. She ran off. She’s hiding somewhere until she can marry Clayton.”
Silence again. “Are . . . you . . . sure?” His words sounded choked. Forced.
“Maria—Clayton—they set the whole thing up. I couldn’t tell you because he was going to do something bad to Parker if I snitched, but now he’s going to do it anyway—and he’ll hurt Wilson, too.”
Hurt him? With the way Clayton’s voice sounded on the phone this morning? “He’ll kill them, Daddy. He’ll do it.” The words gushed out. “They’re on a collision course and don’t even know it. And it’s all my fault.”
“Where are they?” His voice was low—like he didn’t want someone nearby to hear.
“They won’t answer my texts—but I think I know.” She sprinted for her bike. “I’m leaving school for the marina now—meet me there and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Where are the boys?” The urgency in her dad’s voice was clear. “Your best guess.”
“I’m sure they’re heading to Sunday Bay—but so is Clayton.”
“I’ll bust Parker’s dad out of here,” Dad growled. “We’ll be at the marina in twenty minutes. You wait for me there. Got that?”
“Just hurry.”
She pocketed her phone, jerked her bike from the rack, and swung a leg over. She pedaled off school property like a crazy person and didn’t look back. And she prayed—like she’d never prayed before. The same seven words, looping over and over in her mind in rhythm with the pedals.
Dear God—don’t let Clayton kill them.
CHAPTER 72
IT FELT GOOD KNOWING he’d be taking the Bomb out one last time before the move, even if it meant they’d be going back up the Lopez River. It had taken Wilson longer to “borrow” the right size plug than he’d figured, but in the end, he came through. He’d also stopped at Subway on the way to Smallwood’s Store for a Santa-sized bag of stale French bread.
“Don’t worry, Bucky,” Wilson said. “This isn’t about coaxing an alligator to the boat.”
Parker wasn’t buying it.
“We’ve got to get that camera—and we can be pretty sure we won’t get the boat that close with all the trees there, right?”
That made sense.
“Which means one of us is going in the water,” Wilson said. “And if Goliath really is nearby?”
“Got it. We’ll lure him away from the tree.”
Wilson grinned. “I’ll make an Everglades guy out of you yet.”
“Don’t count on it.”
By the time they got the gas can and a spare filled, Parker had a growing fear that Principal Kingman would show up and haul him back to school before he could get away—as ridiculous as that sounded. Even though the school receptionist assured Parker his absence was okay, Principal K wouldn’t want anyone leaving his kingdom without getting permission from him first. Parker stowed everything in the boat. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
His phone dinged—and he skimmed the text.
“It’s Jelly again. Says she needs to talk to us—that it’s important. Life and death.”
“Nice try, Jelly,” Wilson said. “Don’t even answer it. We are not letting her talk us out of this.”
If it was news about Parker’s dad, the text would be coming from Mom.
Wilson’s phone chirped a moment later. He checked the screen. “Oh yeah. She’s on to us. I’m not even going to open it. Then I can honestly say I never read her text.”
Parker’s phone dinged again. Jelly. “She’s persistent.” She’d do—or say—anything to keep him out of the Everglades. She’d stall him until she could sabotage his plan somehow. They’d already taken way more time than he’d hoped to get ready—and they still weren’t out on the water. He glanced down the road by Smallwood’s Store, half expecting to see Jelly pedaling their way.
“Give me that phone,” Wilson said. He held out his hand.
Parker slapped it into his palm.
“I’ll just tuck these away where we won’t hear them.” Wilson stowed both phones in the compartment below the driver’s seat.
“Hold on.” Parker reached for his phone.
Wilson blocked him.
“If my dad calls—”
“Look,” Wilson said. “You left him a message—told him about the camera?”
And when he didn’t hear back, he’d messaged that he was going after it. “I told him everything.” That he’d wanted to wait for him—but knew if he waited any longer they’d miss their chance. Losing their one opportunity to find out what happened to Maria didn’t seem like the right thing to do. He told his dad he’d be careful—he wasn’t going in alone—and he’d be back long before dark. He was following the ground rules Dad set up when Parker joined the SAR teams.
“Okay, then,” Wilson said. “Let’s focus on getting out of here. You still going to text your dad every thirty seconds like he made you do before?”
“Thirty minutes, wise guy,” Parker said. “That’s my plan.” Although he wasn’t sure there was a point to it. Once out on the Lopez, there’d be no signal anyway. His dad wouldn’t get his texts—and Parker wouldn’t get Dad’s.
“So you can leave the phone alone until then. I’m not worried about your dad trying to stop you. As long as you’re giving him updates, you’re good. It’s Jelly’s texts I don’t want messing with your head.”
Not even Jelly could stop him now. Parker untied the bow line from the cypress. “Let’s get this baby in the water before she comes looking for us.”
Wilson laughed. “If I know her, she’s already on her way.”
Together they slid the boat off the beach and into deeper water. The motor fired up on the f
irst try. Parker steered for the Lopez River—and rammed the throttle nearly all the way forward. He chanced a look back at the beach. No Jelly. But even if she had been there flapping her arms like flamingo wings, Parker wouldn’t have turned back.
Wilson sat in the bow seat, arms spread along the backrest, facing Parker. He looked like a wild man the way his hair whipped around. “I’m going to remember this sight,” Wilson said. He never looked happier.
“What?”
“This.” He pointed both hands at Parker. “This is the last time you’re ever going in the Everglades,” Wilson said. “Am I right?”
“Absolutely. Last time out, too.”
Wilson grinned. “You hope you’re getting out. It said ValuJet on the side of this boat, remember.”
Parker laughed and cupped his hand around his mouth. “This is your captain speaking. In the unlikely event of a water landing, please use the seat cushion as a flotation device.” He opened up the Merc to full throttle. “And buckle your seat belts.”
“This thing doesn’t have seat belts, Bucky.”
It was true. There was nothing holding him back—or holding him down. “Then you’d better hang on tight. We’re going to fly.”
CHAPTER 73
PARKER WAS NEARLY DRENCHED with sweat by the time the Lopez opened up into Sunday Bay. He’d manned the wheel the entire time—and kept his speed up as much as the Lopez had allowed. Wilson took Parker’s phone out every thirty minutes and dashed off a quick text to Dad that they were okay, even though they weren’t getting a signal. Dad would get the texts eventually, and he’d know Parker had kept his end of the bargain.
Wilson insisted on keeping the ringer off on both phones, even after the signal was lost—which was probably just as well. He didn’t need a call from Jelly getting through by some freak chance, dividing his attention. He’d felt like he and Wilson were in a race, and they needed every bit of focus to shave seconds off their time.
The Bomb handled the Lopez like a champ. The water was high, which meant they could keep up their speed without as much worry of clipping a submerged log or snagging the bottom. There was a fine balance between taking calculated risks and just being plain stupid. He couldn’t chance damaging his prop, or worse—sheering the pin holding it in place. At least a half dozen times, in super-tight or shallow places they killed the engine and raised the outboard to protect the propellor. They used Amos Moses and a gaffing hook to gondola their way through.
Something had spurred him on—beyond the fact that he was totally juiced to find that camera. He had pictured one of those hourglass gizmos—with sand pouring through a narrow opening. He’d wrestled with the definite sense that there was very little sand left, and it had nothing to do with leaving for Boston—or the hour. It was like deep down he knew the owner of that camera was going to move it—unless Parker got there first. The moment they finally reached Sunday Bay, the feeling grew stronger.
“Let’s switch,” Wilson said. “I’ll drive so you can concentrate on finding the right spot with that freaky memory of yours.”
Parker swapped places and kneeled at the bow, mentally reviewing the way the trees looked in that shot on his dad’s phone. Wilson steered the Boy’s Bomb parallel to the shoreline—which really wasn’t a shoreline at all. It was more of a thick tree line with an endless swampy, jungle-like interior behind it.
He shook his bad arm and worked the prickles out of his hand. “I can’t see how Maria could survive out here without a boat for nearly six days.” He had to admit, it just wasn’t possible. Still, he felt a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was going to finally have an answer. A poacher must have picked her up.
“She wouldn’t last six hours out here,” Wilson said. “I, on the other hand, could stay out here six months. No problem.” He thumped his chest. “Miccosukee blood.”
Parker grinned. “Only half Miccosukee.”
“Okay.” Wilson stood at the console, both hands on the wheel. “We’ll make it three months.”
Parker kept his eyes on the trees. It was like he was traveling back in time. There was absolutely no sign of man. The place probably looked pretty much like it did in prehistoric days. And it was infested with the closest things to dinosaurs on earth. Alligators.
“There!” Parker pointed to a spot on the tree line. “That’s it!”
Wilson eased back on the throttle. “You sure?”
Parker studied it again. Compared it to the image in his mind. “One hundred percent. See the cypress with the strangler vine?”
“Nice navigating, Bucky.” Wilson cut the wheel hard toward shore and peered over the side. “Lots of submerged logs, though. I say we kill the motor and pole in.”
Together they raised the Merc and locked it in place.
Parker grabbed Amos Moses and used the blunt end to push along the bottom until the bow got hung up in the roots and reeds.
The massive cypress with the strangler vine rose out of standing water, maybe twenty feet ahead.
Wilson bent low, trying to get a line of sight on the cypress farther back. “I can’t even see the camera yet. You sure this is the spot?”
Parker leaned out low over the bow. “This is it. I see the strap!” And it definitely was a strap. Nylon. Camouflage. And well-hidden. He pointed right at it.
Wilson whistled. “Sure enough. No wonder the rangers missed it.”
How many times had Parker studied the picture in his head and not seen it?
“Creepy vibe about this place, right?” Wilson looked around like he suddenly felt on edge.
The place definitely had a dark feel. Was it because this was the very spot where so many thought Maria had been killed? For some crazy reason, his mind flipped back to the verse Grandpa had left him. Yeah, Parker definitely wanted a little light dawning in this darkness. “Let’s get the camera and get out.”
“Okay.” Wilson looked out into the bay and back to the cypress. “How do you want to play this?”
There weren’t a lot of options here. “One of us grabs the camera. One of us mans the boat.”
“Let me do the wet work,” Wilson said. “Miccosukees are invisible to gators. Did you know that?”
Parker had been bracing himself to go in the water. Wilson had just handed him a gift. “You’re still only half Miccosukee, so you’re only half invisible at best. We’ve got to be smart about this.”
“Noted,” Wilson said. “Before I step out of this boat we’ll sit here a few minutes to make sure everything is clear. I would not want a visit from Goliath when I’m up to my belly button in swamp water.”
“Agreed.” The way his dad—and even Crawley—talked about the beast, seeing Goliath was the last thing they needed right now.
“You take port side,” Wilson said. “I’ll take starboard. We’ll watch for a couple minutes. Then switch. Look for bubbles. Movement. A swirl in the water.”
“Or a set of eyes surfacing?”
Wilson gave a half smile. “That too.”
The water was dead still. Not a ripple. Not a bubble. The sun’s glare made it nearly impossible to be certain if the area was clear or not. And alligators could lie on the bottom—perfectly still for what? Hours—if the conditions were right. Would they even see any bubbles?
“As much as I’d like to see that monster gator,” Wilson said, “I kind of wish your dad and uncle would have bagged Goliath last night.”
It definitely would have made the job of grabbing the camera easier. “Me too.” He wondered how his dad was doing. Mom’s note said he would be fine, but—
“Time to switch.” Wilson took his turn battling the sun’s reflections. “Think we’ll find out what happened to Maria when we snag that camera?”
“Crawley sure seemed to think so.”
Parker scanned the brush line. Stared into the dark waters. And he listened. Wilson was quiet too, and when Parker glanced over, he was studying the hair on his forearms.
“What are you doing?”
Wilson didn’t look up. “My hair is standing up, see?” He raised his arm a little. “Just like at Crawley’s yesterday. My Miccosukee—”
“Early warning system,” Parker said. “I get it.” His heart felt like it was beating in his lungs. “And you got that same sensation just before I got mauled.” He took a step back from the edge of the boat.
Wilson nodded and studied the water. He walked slowly around the boat as if he sensed something rather than saw it. Wilson rubbed his forearms down, then held his arm out in front of him again. The hair began to rise.
Wilson stopped and looked at Parker square on. “He’s here.” Wilson studied the water again. “Somewhere close.”
“Goliath?”
“I’m sure of it.”
Parker grabbed Amos Moses and pulled off the sheath with shaky hands. “We can’t risk you going in. We need a new plan.”
“The French bread,” Wilson said. “We chum the water away from shore—just to put a little insurance on this. Then I’ll slip over the side and get the camera.”
“I don’t know. This whole thing doesn’t feel right.” Parker hunkered over to get a visual on the tree with the camera. Whoever had placed the camera was good at it. They’d strategically tucked Spanish moss around the camera itself so the thing looked more like a nest.
“Help me chum.” Wilson twisted a loaf in half and tossed it into deeper water. “Come and get it, big guy.”
They tossed a few more hunks of bread out there, but left enough for later if they needed it.
The air felt thick. And heavy—with something. “There.” Parker pointed. The head of a massive gator surfaced behind the floating bread.
“Whoa,” Wilson said. “Hel-lo, Goliath.”
Parker’s scars tingled. Maybe he had some kind of mortal danger warning built into his mauled arm. Weird. “I’ve never seen one so big. You?”
Wilson shook his head. “Time for me to go.” He walked to the front of the boat, toward shore.
“You’re not still going in? With that guy out there?” Parker looked at Goliath, then back at Wilson. “Don’t be crazy.”
Escape from the Everglades Page 31