“Just what it means, Isaac. Don’t worry, she’s been taken care of.”
Isaac got up, shaking his head, his morning wood poking out of his boxers in Jimmy’s direction.
“Better put that way, Isaac, might shoot someone.” Jimmy bent over laughing.
“Get the fuck out of my room, you stupid shit. I’ll be down in a minute.” He kicked Jimmy playfully in the backside as he exited the room.
Isaac dressed himself in proper safari attire, complete with a wide-brimmed hat. When he arrived downstairs, Jimmy had a fairly decent breakfast ready for him.
“I figure we should take a look in the reserve. There’s a dozen or so spots where Walker might be holed up, but you would know better, Jimmy. They’ll not be too worried about the authorities. Authorities won’t go on Indian land without a judicial order, they’ll most likely wait for him to try and leave. If the Indians see us, they’ll shoot, so let’s be careful. Our airboat’s new and we can count on going faster than anything they have. If we shoot one, we have to shoot them all, got that?”
“Shoot the fuckin’ Indians, I got it.” A puzzled look came to his face. “Why haven’t we shot ‘em before this?”
It was a perfectly logical question to ask, but Isaac didn’t attempt to respond. It would be too frustrating to explain.
The McFaddens loaded up their gear into the boat. They carried loads of extra gasoline, stored in jerry cans at the front. Several high-powered rifles sat in a rack behind the steering console. A small canoe lay across the bottom, along with clothing and food supplies.
“Looks good, Jimmy. Let’s get out of here.”
13
Storm
SUMMER STORMS ARE A part of life in southwest Florida. The state’s southern tip sits under a tropical depression from July until mid-October—hurricane season. The storm that was building over the Gulf turned inland. It was not classified a hurricane, but it carried winds in excess of ninety miles per hour, strong enough that evacuations were recommended on the barrier islands that surrounded Fort Myers and Port Charlotte. There would be few casualties, but it was still a time to hunker down and stay indoors, much like a winter storm in Buffalo or the Midwest. There would be wind and there would be rain, and lots of both.
Jack looked to the west as Janie was helped into the old airboat. He walked over and put a hand on the gunnels as Josh, Bobby and Nate prepared to depart. “Think it’s wise to be heading back with that storm moving in? I don’t like the look of that sky.”
“Not my call, Jack, supposed to get the lady back before nightfall.” He looked to Janie.
She nodded. “If you want me to get you out of this mess, I need to go.”
“Agreed, but I was thinking if I stay here, I can’t do anything to help myself. If I’m going to break for it, I can’t think of a better cover. It’ll be dark in an hour and a half. What if I come with you, Janie?”
Josh folded his arms. “I don’t know, you could hole up out here for years. Gramps said as much.”
“I think he might agree with me. It’s an omen, this storm. I’m coming with you.”
“The police know they can’t get you here, but they’re going to be watching for you coming out . . . guaranteed.”
“You’re right, but there’s no way they’ll be able to cover every inch.”
Josh cut him off. “Not on my watch, cousin. I’m taking Janie like we planned. They’d have you in leg irons and an orange suit faster than you could skin a possum. I’ll come back for you once we get her safely back to Myers. Hold tight and maybe we can get you out to the Caloosahatchee later tonight. We have a boat out there along the river just in case, but it’s gonna be a hell show with the weather. Sit tight, bro.”
Jack shrugged, his head lowered. “Suppose you’re right, but I sure want to go. I’m starting to feel like a caged pigeon.”
“We’ll be back soon. I’ll leave Bobby to watch over you. Bobby, you see anyone you don’t know, unless they show you government ID, put a bullet in their forehead.”
Bobby grinned, nodding his acknowledgment.
Josh looked to the sky and chuckled. “You’ll be okay, cousin. Like I said, he’s a good shot.”
Josh pushed the boat out into the lake as Nate fired up the noisy engine. Within minutes, they were lost to sight. The wind was really building, but for the time being, the rain held off. The boat crashed and banged against the waves. As the craft reached one of the canals that ran into the small lake, things smoothed out a bit.
After a fifteen-minute run, Josh motioned for Nate to slow the engine. He pointed to a plume of heavy smoke rising from a point a mile away to the south, riding the wind eastward. He yelled. “It’s rainy season, fires don’t just start out here. I gotta see what’s up. There’s a small village on an island over there. It has me worried. Only take a few minutes.”
“I’m counting on you guys to get me out of this place, not to get sidetracked,” yelled Janie.
Nate pulled a rifle out from under the driver’s bench, cocking it to make sure it was loaded. “True enough, lady, but there are things happening out here right now that are out of the ordinary. Sit down and be quiet until we’ve taken a look.”
Janie was not used to being told what to do like this, but the look on the young Seminole man’s face forced her to bite her lip.
As the boat neared the small island, they could see that several small dwellings sitting in the middle were ablaze. The lack of movement was even more alarming. The small enclave housed two Seminole families.
“Put ‘er up on the beach, Nate,” yelled Josh over the sound of the howling wind and rumbling engine.
The men dragged the boat up on the shore. Janie felt uneasy and remained seated on the middle bench. What was supposed to be a fairly simple meeting had now changed into something more sinister, and she didn’t like it. She made a mental note to increase her fee.
“I’m gonna take a quick look. Stay here and keep an eye on Janie.”
Nate nodded his head and cocked his rifle.
Josh carefully made his way into the small group of buildings. The flames had devoured most of the small wood homes. Five minutes later, he returned at a jog. His face was drawn, his eyes welled up in tears.
“Whoever fucking did this is gonna pay.” He slumped down, catching his breath, his rifle resting across his knees. “Four of them shot dead, one of them a kid . . . ” He started to hyperventilate. “Hector was one of our friends growing up,” he told Janie.
“Man . . . Hector?” Nate exclaimed.
“Yeah, him and his old lady, could be his kid, too. The other one is one of the old-timers, I can’t remember her name. I think it’s Peggy, the one with the bum leg.”
“Fuckin’ hell, she’s friends with my mom.”
“The rest of them must have got away, all the boats are gone except for Hec’s. The place is gonna be cinders within minutes. I saw shells everywhere, there must have been a firefight.”
Janie could see the pain on both men’s faces. Nate looked particularly shaken up, his lower lip quivering. “Who would have done this?”
“I have a pretty good idea—one of the old families.”
Janie cut off Josh before he could finish. “Jack told me about them. But he said there had never been any violence . . . ?”
“Josh will tell you, if there was a good enough reason, it wouldn’t take too much. It used to be pretty brutal in the old days. These people took their liberties during the Seminole wars. It was bad enough that our people fought off the US Army, but the fuckers tried their best to finish us off after the war was all said and done. There’s a few who know the grass flats pretty good.”
“Nate’s right. There’s no doubt in my mind that this mess is tied in with Jack and whatever the hell he’s done. Maybe the whole situation was created so the fuckers could start a brawl in the first place. I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.”
Josh and Nate stood in silence for a time. Janie didn’t want to interrupt; she could
see that they were distraught. After a time, Josh spoke up. “We can’t do anything with the bodies right now. I pulled them into a clearing. We don’t know if there are any more dead in the huts. I’m calling the Reserve Police. They’re gonna have to clean this mess up. Now let’s get you out of here, Janie. Whoever did this can’t be too far away.”
14
Senator Hunter
SENATOR HUNTER ROLLED OVER onto his back in near exhaustion, his heart pounding, sweat rolling down his temples, his penis still erect. He looked back at Phyllis, her golden hair flayed out on the pillow. She was hard to resist, her perfect body nestled up beside his. Their relationship had begun innocently enough: an innuendo, subtle touches and looks. They’d shared a suite in Orlando at last year’s Republican convention, separate bedrooms. He’d walked into her room to ask a question and caught sight of her coming out of the shower. He’d backed out of the room, but his lust was aroused.
A month later, after a late night at work and a few drinks at a lounge, the privacy of the back seat of his limo provided ample room for transgression. He could not restrain himself and she did not back away from his kiss. The smell of the woman had become enough to drive him crazy. He knew that what he was doing could bring him down politically, yet he did it. When he was with her, he could think of nothing else. When he was not with her, he was truly remorseful, realizing it would be the end of his twenty-five-year marriage if he were caught. It was like the woman had some sort of power over him; there was no other way to explain it.
“You are too young for me, Phyllis. You’re going to give me a heart attack. Wouldn’t that look good on the evening news.”
Phyllis looked at Jim for a few seconds and smiled, her eyebrows narrowing. “We can stop this thing if you’re worried about scandal. I’m thirty-five, you’re fifty-five. You should go back to your wife, we can move on from this, no harm done. We have to be able to face up to the consequences. They’re small for me, but for you, it’s your life.”
Jim lay his head back on his pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “Too late for that, my darling. This could end my political career, but I still have my law degree and I can’t see us getting caught. The fire is gone in my marriage. I’m bored.” He patted his flabby belly and smiled. “Besides, look what you’d be missing. Let’s not go down that road just yet. Look, you evoke something within me that I can’t explain. I want to be with you no matter how wrong it is.”
As any good politician would do, he redirected the conversation. “What do I do about Jack Walker?”
Phyllis lit a cigarette. “Tough one, lover boy. You gave him a second chance. I would make a public statement as soon as possible, and keep it as close to the truth as you can. You are a benefactor of the University of Florida. You took in a past superstar, down on his luck, who had a history of drug abuse. You had no knowledge of his affiliation with this devil church. Disassociate yourself from him. Do it now before people make their own inferences.”
“What about Sarah Courtney? She’s on the Republican payroll.”
“It stinks, but you have two more years in your term. Hopefully it will all blow over by then. Plus, there has been no word of the girl since the murders.” She smiled.
“I find no humor in this nasty state of affairs, and I don’t know why you would be smiling. Two people are dead, and there is a link to my office.”
Phyllis pulled away, sitting up. “If you’re so concerned, why were you not working on the Walker problem instead of fucking me? This could’ve waited. You men are able to fuck at the worst of times, I don’t get it. If I were you, I’d be back at home with my wife doing a photo shoot showing your devotion to family and religion. The Southern Baptists would eat it up. Instead you’re lying here with your prick in the air smelling like pussy.”
Phyllis rolled out of bed, pulling the sheets off with her, casually wrapping them around her. She stepped toward the bathroom. “You have a two o’clock with the opposition to the Clean Water Bill. Crotchety old lady, so I am told.”
“Henrietta LePley. She knew my parents. She’s old Florida blood. What harm could come from listening to both sides of the argument? Maybe it will be enough to listen. Some people just need to be heard, and she has been persistent.”
“We’ll see, Jim. I don’t get that feeling after my conversations with the woman. You’re going to have to make a decision and keep to it. These people will not be happy with anything less than a strong rollback on your policy. They will be a thorn in your side.”
Hunter planned on putting forward the legislation, taking the necessary steps to do what was right to save the watershed, to save the state’s precarious ecology. But the old cronies who had lived in the state for more than a century had strong pull within the Republican Party. He needed to listen to them at least, or there would be backlash. There was big money in cattle, oranges, and sugarcane, and he understood that those people would be hurt economically. Some would even lose their livelihoods.
The people who paid state taxes and voted for him could see for themselves the changing ecosystem. Freshwater was being dispersed through the larger river systems in massive quantities and not allowed to find its traditional slow route through the Everglades, allowing for more arable farmland. The discharges carried pesticides and fertilizer, which in turn killed the brackish saltwater estuaries along the Florida coastline. Some species of wildlife were being pushed to the point of extinction, the Florida manatee being just one example. The once-pristine beaches, the heart of Florida’s vacation industry, no longer had the crystal clear waters they were known for.
****
Phyllis and Jim sat at a table at party headquarters, waiting for the meeting. Hunter didn’t know what to expect. He knew little about Henrietta LePley, other than that she pulled a lot of strings in South Florida.
The senator stood as the old lady entered the room, accompanied by her lawyer. She stood erect and walked without a hitch or hint that old age was affecting her. She was dressed immaculately in a tailored pantsuit with flat, sturdy shoes, very businesslike. She approached Hunter with her hand outstretched. Her face was almost flawless, though he could see that her skin was thinning. Her handshake was firm, unrelenting, yet what caught him most were her eyes. Emerald green, piercing. He was caught speechless for a moment but recovered quickly, catching the faintest of grins on the corners of her old, thin lips.
“Senator Hunter.” Her voice was very appealing—motherly. It had been ten years since his mother passed away and he felt comfortable with the woman, a comfort he had not felt in some time. He felt a sudden need for her approval, and fought off the desire to give her a hug.
Phyllis snapped him out of his trance. “Senator, may I introduce Henrietta LePley.”
He shook his head ever so slightly.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, James, if I might be so forward. I have heard good things about you, son.”
Son . . . “Nice to meet you as well, Ms. LePley.” He gestured toward a seat across from his.
Everyone sat down.
“I will not waste time, James. You are a Southerner, just like I am a Southerner, like my mother before me. We are both good Republicans.” She gestured to Hunter with an open hand. “My family has supported the Grand Old Party since its inception.”
Hunter found himself leaning closer to the woman as she spoke. “Your support is greatly appreciated, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” She sat in thought for a moment. “We have to protect that which is inherently ours, James. We can’t let the Northerners control our state, but that is a topic for another day. As you know, I am opposed to your legislation. I have voiced my displeasure with the Governor.”
Hunter gestured in understanding. “In the end, Ms. LePley, it is a legislation that is essential to the welfare of our state. Our wetlands need to be protected so that our children’s children might enjoy what we’ve been able to enjoy.”
She seemed to grow larger. “I don’t ask that you kill the bill, Jam
es, only that it be somewhat softened. That the reclamation of farmland be delayed over time, so we can properly prepare for the losses we will incur.”
Hunter looked her in the eye and became lost in her bewitching gaze. He mumbled, “That would be a significant change, Ms. LePley. We have the natives to consider as well. We are changing the watershed and how it sustains their lands.”
“You are enabling the natives. They should be subordinate, not controlling. The government tap dances around the Indians like they are royalty. They own some of the sugar cane, the oranges, and now the gaming. They play both sides nicely. I come to you now to make a proposition to help us gain control of the state’s economy.”
“And what would you propose?”
“It’s simple. Do not support the new bill. I can promise the state of Florida a 5 percent tax on the revenues derived from the farming activity.”
“How can you promise that? What authority do you have?”
“James. Five percent of something is better than 5 percent of nothing.”
His grandmother had called him James, and the way she said his name warmed him.
Phyllis cleared her throat. “Can I offer you some tea, Ms. LePley?”
“Henrietta will be fine, and yes, that would be lovely. I prefer black tea, from a bag, nothing loose.”
Hunter motioned to one of his aides to serve the woman. “Ms. LePley, I appreciate your sentiments, and I understand what you are saying. However, there are greater stakes at hand. The ecosystem is dying and the Seminole people are on the front line to see the changes that are coming. They are pleading with us to keep our house in order, as are our constituents.”
“Unlike your own house, Senator . . . The Walker boy.”
“He is of no consequence to this discussion.”
“Is he not? He worked for your office, James. He is Seminole. Let’s not be coy, Senator. This looks bad for your office. All things considered, including a possible conflict of interest, it might be prudent for you to soften the proposed bill as we have asked.”
Devil in the Grass Page 16