Devil in the Grass

by Christopher Bowron

“Okay.”

  “So then I go to Sarah’s apartment. Oh, I did make a call to my friend Perry, and then tossed my cell phone. I’m not sure if that’s important.”

  “It could be. Anything that corroborates your story can help. I’ll have to talk to your friend, what’s his number? Go on.”

  “I get to her place and go in. I have a key. The place is empty, she’s gone. My alarm bell starts to go off and before I know it, there is someone in her apartment with me—a man. He tries to take my head off with a fishing knife. Anyway, we get into a struggle and I manage to break free and head for the door and the stairs down. I stop in the top of the stairwell. Okay, the guy comes out and flies through the door, making for the stairs. He glances at me as he lunges for the top step, so I tackle him and he lands awkwardly at the bottom of the flight and cracks his head real hard on the cement wall. His neck is broken. So things are a real mess at this point. I ditch my car and drive to my grandfather’s in his old truck. The rest is history.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Oh, when I swapped vehicles, I found his wallet in the front seat.” He handed it to her. “His name was Eric McFadden, lived on Pine Island.”

  “I’m going to take this.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Janie sat for a moment without speaking. “Jackson, that’s quite the story. Can you think of any little details you might have missed? Everything is important. How did you meet Sarah?”

  “I work for Senator Hunter. Sarah works for the Republican Party. We were in touch with their office all the time. Met her one day and she asked me out. Like I say, the rest is history.”

  “She asked you out?”

  “Yeah, like I said, she was real forward.”

  “The police will leave no stone unturned. I really think you should turn yourself in.”

  “No, too many balls in the air, Janie. This thing is bigger than it seems. Since I’ve been here, I’ve learned a bit about my family history. The people that I dealt with have some sort of feud with my mother’s people that’s at least a hundred years old. There are no coincidences, I am finding out. I still don’t understand the reason for it all, but I’m not going to turn myself in until I have a better idea of what I’m up against. It’s kinda too late now anyway, I may as well ride it out until something gives.”

  “You will be linked with the killing of that man at your girlfriend’s apartment. I would give it a few days. If the police haven’t caught you by then, they will come after you hard. I know this is a damned big swamp, but they will bring in the means to track you down. You’re a killer of three people in their eyes. The media is already hyping this thing up. Someone tried to hit you in that apartment building. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where you are—roughly. If I were you, I would keep on the move. I’ll give you a cell number to use if you decide you want to come in, or if you can think of anything else.”

  Janie realized something. “Why would that guy try to kill you?”

  Jack sat for a moment in thought. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. The guy did say that I was lucky to have escaped them at the lake house. I figure that whoever is doing all this wanted me caught red-handed at the scene. This whole thing is premeditated. The one positive thing is that I’m just the little guy in all of this, as best I can figure.”

  Janie stood and gathered up her things. “I’m going to get out of here now. You’re not a safe person to be around. If we can make anything out of this mess, I’ll contact you through your aunt. You know how to get me. Be safe, Jackson Walker, and remember: you will be caught. Come in before that happens. I can see you doing time if you offer a plea.”

  “See, that’s what I figured. I know I’m not guilty. I appreciate your efforts, and I hope you can help me out, but I’m not going to leave my fate in someone else’s hands. The one advantage I have is that the US government is careful when dealing with Native Americans. I qualify; they will have to dig up something big before they step foot on the reserve. My mother’s people have their own police, I’m sure you know this. There would have to be concrete evidence given to them before they would allow me to be handed over. Janie, if the Reserve Police wanted me incarcerated, they would have bundled me up twenty-four hours ago. I’m sure that Gramps has talked to them. I have a window of a few days to help my cause. Hopefully between us we can figure something out.” Jack stood and shook Janie’s hand. “Have a safe ride back. Nate and Josh will look after you.”

  “Stay low, Jack.”

  10

  The Police

  “MY GOODNESS, IS IT hot, and these little bugs are eating me alive,” Lani Green said as she scratched the back of her neck. She turned her head to observe the tall young man walking beside her. Rick Ramirez smiled, his broad white teeth lighting up his distinctly Cuban face. Rick had grown up in Miami and didn’t seem bothered by summer weather in Florida. It was a different story for Lani, a Wisconsin native. She’d transferred from Kenosha to Tallahassee twenty years earlier, but still couldn’t get used to the summer heat. Most Northerners dream of living in a southern climate—great in the winter—but fail to take summer into consideration. The heat was acceptable near the coast where there was always a nice breeze, but as soon as you went a couple of miles inland it was sweltering. Sweat dripped down her back and between her breasts, making the snug bulletproof vest wet. No one had warned her about the bugs. She was used to mosquitoes in the north, but these little black bugs the size of a pinhead were unreal. She could feel them biting behind her ears and down the back of her neck.

  Rick smiled again. “Bug spray man, you need some spray. They don’t really bother me too much, they mustn’t like Cuban blood. We call them no-see-ums.”

  Lani frowned, scratching the back of her hand. She was the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s expert on religious and cult activity. She was the only one in the department who had any background, having studied religious history in college. She’d fallen into the position backwards and had since been called out to more of these cases than she could remember. She’d been brought in from the state capital and assigned to work with Rick when the Walker story first broke. Routine homicides, domestic violence cases, and robberies were left to the local authorities; missing killers connected to Satanic sects and senators were another matter. Tallahassee wanted a lid on this case ASAP. Her presence often helped ease inter-county police department tensions. Lani and her new partner were one of three units assigned to the Clewiston killings.

  Rick stopped for a moment. “This guy’s on the run, but where?” Rick went over the report in his head. “The sheriff’s department found Walker’s rust-colored Ford Taurus last night. They found an envelope containing several dozen one dollar bills sandwiched between two one hundred dollar notes.”

  Turning to face her, he felt sorry for his new partner. Her blonde hair was matted down by sweat. “Here, drink some water.” He handed her the bottle of water he held in his hand. “I’m surprised that the Charlotte and Lee County Sheriff departments didn’t shut down the roads through Clewiston the other night. Too late now. They’ve screwed things up so far. The crime scenes have been poorly controlled and whatever evidence that’s been gathered is probably contaminated.”

  “Different counties, and easy for you to say working in Collier County. They couldn’t get things together quick enough. Can’t blame them, though. If there was more manpower, we’d have better control. This could be a mess; the people we might be dealing with will be organized, and we’re not.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Just done this enough times and I’ve been dealing with these Satanic sects for years now.”

  “So you’re a fucking veteran.”

  “Could say that. I’ve paid my dues.”

  “A man was found dead one block from where Walker’s car was found. There’s no evidence to link the two. I’m waiting on the forensics from Lee County. The man died under suspicious circumstances. His neck was broken, as
was his nose; no evidence of any other wounds. A pool of blood was found on the cement floor of the stairwell, which did not match the dead guy’s.” Rick shook his head. “I have a gut feeling that the two incidents are connected, though. It’s time to put up a pin board on this one. I think we have enough information to start mapping.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “So what’s your story, Green? Are you some sort of X-Files specialist, aliens and all that shit?”

  “No such thing as aliens, Ramirez. Roswell was made up. What I do believe in is religion and the ability of some people to warp the minds of those who are susceptible to being brainwashed. That’s a cult in a nutshell.”

  “Heard you spent time undercover?”

  “You could say that. I am baptized as a full-fledged Satanist. I was in deep. I know how these sick people work. It’s usually the innocent who end up doing the bad things, while the ringleaders get off scot-free. If I showed up in one of their church meetings now, I’d be strung up. I helped bring down Jimmy Broughton ten years back in Jacksonville. He was one deceptive, sick bastard. I ended up living with him for a year before we could gather enough evidence against him. I still get the shivers thinking about it.”

  “So you were having sex with him?”

  Lani shot Rick her best eye dagger. “None of your damn business, Ramirez.”

  Rick shrugged off the affront. “So . . . are you insinuating that Walker might be innocent?”

  Lani turned, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m just saying that we need to keep our minds open to every possibility. He could be innocent. He may have been coerced into doing something against his will. But if he cut up those people, he’s still guilty of murder.”

  Ramirez nodded. “If Walker headed north, we’ll have to wait for him to make a mistake. His face is all over the local and state news. Someone will see him at a gas station, or he might be careless and use a credit card.”

  Lani shook her head. “If he’s headed north, we have to trust in the system. Plus, his banking capability has been cut off. We must assume that the young man is still in the area. It’s likely he didn’t have much cash on him, no one does anymore. The Bank of America put a freeze on his accounts. He made one call on his cell phone after the killings.”

  “Yep, and we have a tag out on the recipient’s cell phone. It was registered to a Perry Masterson. Huntley and Edwards are tracking him down.”

  “John White and Bill Reyes are working on his close family. Walker’s mother is deceased and his father hasn’t been seen in years. The only others in the area are his maternal grandparents, both Seminole. The grandmother lives in Ft. Lauderdale. Someone from Miami is checking that lead. She seemed to have no idea of her grandson’s whereabouts, and in fact has not seen him in seven or eight years. She’s under surveillance.” Lani swatted at the bugs that were nibbling at the back of her wrist. “This fucking swamp was a bad idea.”

  Rick shook his head.

  “He has family in Georgia. His father’s sister Rebecca flew into Southwest Florida International Airport this morning from Atlanta, and she’s booked on a return flight this evening. Her rental car is marked and she’s being followed. She visited a lawyer’s office, Robertson and Robertson.”

  Rick paused. “So the family has been in contact with Walker and are determining the legal parameters available to him.”

  “Hopefully the lawyer will talk some sense into him.”

  ****

  The drive to Big Cypress Reserve, southeast of Fort Myers, halfway across Highway 41 toward Miami, had been fairly short—roughly three quarters of an hour. Rick parked their car off a quiet road at a place called Shark Valley. Walker’s grandfather lived in a small village close to the popular tourist site that sold native souvenirs and airboat tours of the Everglades. After inquiring at the welcome center, they were told that the old man lived a short walk into the bush. Unless you knew the back way in, it was inaccessible by car.

  Lani pushed ahead of Rick as they finished the short trek along a well-kept wooden walkway. She jumped as a small gator slipped from the side of the pathway into the murky water. Rick chuckled. “They don’t want anything to do with you, man.”

  “Easy for you to say, Ramirez. You’ve grown up with these stupid reptiles, and these bugs.”

  “Just because I grew up in Florida doesn’t mean that I wrestle gators. I don’t think I saw my first one until I was a teenager, on a school trip or something. I was raised in a shithole neighborhood in West Miami. We spent most of our time hanging out on street corners and getting in trouble—not messing around in the swamp. I read somewhere that gators don’t want shit to do with you, but the snakes are another matter. Don’t be grabbing any branches or sticking your hands into any dark bushes and you’ll be okay . . . Heads up, there’s some buildings up ahead. Remember, we’re not supposed to be here. Reservations have their own laws, and we have no authority.”

  “Let’s just see if we can get a nibble.”

  The small native village that appeared in a large clearing was a throwback in time, quite primitive to Lani’s eye. It was made up of twenty or so small wooden buildings with reed-thatched roofs. Many of the buildings boasted a few modern touches here and there, which indicated that the outside facades might be more for show. ATVs were parked beside most of them, and there was a sprinkling of satellite dishes mounted on outside walls.

  Their attention was drawn to three men sitting outside the front door of the only conventional looking house, on old beach chairs. Two were younger, in their mid-twenties; both sat with hunting rifles propped up beside them. In the middle of the two sat an older, tall, native man wearing blue jeans and a Florida Marlins T-shirt. They remained seated as the two approached.

  Lani didn’t waste any time with formalities. She removed her identification from her coat pocket and flashed it in front of the men. “Lani Green, Florida Department of Law Enforcement. I am looking for Nathaniel Portman.” She paused, waiting for an answer.

  The young man to the left grinned. “Hey Gramps, they’re callin’ you Nathaniel. Nobody calls you Nathaniel except Grams.”

  The old man glanced at the man beside him.

  “You are Nathaniel Portman?” asked Lani.

  The old man answered in perfect English. “Blaze just told you who I am. Don’t mess around with formalities. I know exactly who you are, and in fact I knew you were coming, that’s why I am sitting here waiting for you.”

  Lani flinched ever so slightly. “Jackson Walker. Do you know of his whereabouts?” She flashed him her badge again. The old man didn’t bother to look.

  “Of course I do, I’m his damn grandfather, which you obviously already know. He’s out there.” He pointed towards the swamp. “You won’t find him, though. Remember that jet that went down a dozen years back? Needed our help to find it, didn’t you? Now if you guys needed us to find a plane, you ain’t gonna find the boy. Matter of fact, I don’t know exactly where he is. He’s with his cousins and they’ll be moving around. You go out there, you’ll get lost. There’s other folks lookin’ for him, better equipped too. Not the kind of people you want to be messin’ with—bad people. They won’t find Jack, but they will sniff you out within hours. Shoot you dead and feed you to the gators. Never . . . see . . . you . . . again.” He emphasized his words clearly, as if Lani might not understand English. “I’ll tell you this as well. Jack spoke to a lawyer lady. He’ll be headed for the hills now. For what it’s worth, I know my grandson. If he says he didn’t do it, he didn’t.”

  Lani pondered the old man’s words. It’s true, Walker could be anywhere between Naples, Miami, and Lake Okeechobee. He could also be lying, though she had a sense he was telling the truth. “Do you mind if we look around?”

  “Nope, look all you want, lady. He’s not here though. He was here, but now he is gone. I’ll tell you exactly where he was and how he got here. Don’t be poking around after dark, though. I can’t guarantee your safety.”

&nb
sp; “Is that a threat? Threatening an officer of the law is an indictable offense.”

  “No, I’m just sayin’. He came here by taxi and spent a few hours talking with me, then left by airboat,” Gramps lied. “If you walk down that path over there, you might even be able to see his footprints. Do you no good, though.”

  “Look, Mr. Portman. I could have you brought in for aiding and abetting a known felon. You are being coy, but the fact is you have taken part in hiding the young man.”

  Gramps stood up and stared into Lani’s eyes. She backed away, not being able to meet the man’s gaze. It was like he had put a hand on her forehead and pushed her backward.

  “Like hell I have. I am not hiding him; in fact, I have told you where he is. I don’t have to remind you, I am sure, that you have no jurisdiction over this place, or any other reserve in the United States of America. You can have a look through our little village, but it will do you no good, Miss Green. If I were you, I would call the Reserve Police. The chief’s name is Benny. I can give you his number. I will promise you one thing—if you can bring me evidence that clearly indicates my grandson’s wrongdoing, I will turn him in to Benny. However, I will not risk him being indicted without that evidence.”

  Lani knew they would have to walk the place. It was field operations 101, even if it was a waste of time. If Walker had been here at some point, there could be evidence to corroborate the old man’s story.

  Rick spoke up. “Who are these other people?” He was agitated when the old man mentioned them earlier.

  Gramps responded calmly. “Devil spawn.” For the first time since their meeting began, the old man seemed at a loss for words. He stood and turned to go into his hut. “Take a look around. Again, I wouldn’t be hangin’ about after dark.” The old native man pushed the front door open, and with a few shuffles he started to shut the door.

  “Wait, Mr. Portman. The devil spawn that you mention. Do you know if they are connected with the Satanic cult your grandson was rumored to be a part of?”