Читать книгу The Vanishing - Jana DeLeon - Страница 11

It was almost one o’clock when Max pulled into Pirate’s Cove. The town consisted of six buildings, scattered on both sides of the highway. The swamp stretched behind the buildings and went on for thousands of acres. Max pulled up to a café and parked.

“I figure we can get a bite to eat and use the time to feel out the locals. See if we can get some information on the location of Cache.”

Colette nodded. Her stomach had started rumbling after leaving the bank. With all the stress of the morning, she was a bit surprised that food even entered into her thoughts, but apparently, biology prevailed.

They exited the car and walked to the café entrance.

Max paused outside the front door and said, “Don’t tell anyone about Anna.”

“Then what do we say?”

“I’ll think of something. Let me get a read on the people first, and then follow my lead.”

She nodded and followed him inside, reminding herself of Alex’s confidence in Max’s abilities. No matter how much she wished the investigation could progress faster, she had to take a step back and let Max do the work she’d hired him to do. He’d struck just the right note with the bank manager in getting access to the video footage. Hopefully, he could find a way to do it again with the citizens of Pirate’s Cove.

The lunch rush was either over or there wasn’t much of one to begin with. Two men with sparse gray hair were the only patrons in the café, along with one cook and a waitress. All four stared as they took seats at the counter.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Iced tea,” Colette said.

“Same for me,” Max chimed in.

The waitress filled the glasses and placed them on the counter. “You want something to eat?”

“I’ll take the special,” Max said.

Colette looked up at the board and saw the special was a BLT with chips. “I’ll take the special, too.”

The cook pulled some bacon from a fryer and began preparing the two sandwiches. “You folks passing through?”

“No,” Max said. “Actually, we’re looking for Cache.”

The waitress dropped a plastic bottle of ketchup on the floor and some of it squirted out onto her shoe. The cook glared at her, and she snatched the bottle up and hurried through a door to the back of the café. The two old men leaned toward each other and started whispering.

The cook slid the plates in front of them and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You a little old to be chasing after fairy tales, ain’t you?”

“I don’t think it is a fairy tale,” Max said.

The cook laughed. “You and about a hundred new high-school seniors every year. All tromping through town and into the swamp, looking for something that ain’t there. But hell, I can’t complain. Brings me business.”

“We’re looking for a young woman, a friend of my fiancée’s,” Max said.

Colette struggled to keep her expression neutral at Max’s comment, but a moment later, she understood his tactic. He didn’t want to reveal himself as a detective. That might make them close up even more. If she and Max had a personal relationship, it gave him a good reason to be involved.

“She told my fiancée she had an emergency back home, but when she didn’t return, we started to worry. We know she’s from Cache, so we figure that’s where the emergency was. We want to help her if she’s in some kind of trouble. If you know anything about the town, I’d really appreciate the help.”

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know. Far as I know, there ain’t no Cache and never has been.”

The cook dropped his gaze to the sink behind the counter, then picked up a glass and started washing it. Colette was certain he was lying.

“Are you from this area?” Max asked.

“Yep. Name’s Tom. I’ve owned this café for over thirty years.”

“You mean to tell me that no one lives in the swamp outside of this town?” Max asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

Tom rinsed the glass and started drying it with a dish towel. “Plenty of people live in the swamp,” he said. “But that don’t mean they all living in some legendary community, and certainly not one running everything with black arts, like all the rumors say. If something like that was going on around here, don’t you think we’d have heard about it by now?”

“I guess so. So where did my fiancée’s friend come from, you think?”

Tom shrugged. “I got no idea. I guess when you find her, you can ask?”

“If we find her. Even if she’s from this area, a young woman has no business roaming the swamp alone.”

“That is a fact.” Tom cocked his head to one side and studied them for a moment. Then he narrowed his gaze on Colette. “How come you know the girl if she’s from the swamp?”

“She works for me at a hospital in New Orleans,” Colette said. “She’s studying for her nursing degree. I’ve been helping her, so we’ve become close.”

“And she said she was from Cache?”

“Yes.”

“You must not be from around here if you didn’t think that was odd.”

“I grew up in New Orleans, and I’ve heard all the stories about Cache. I don’t believe half of them, but that doesn’t mean the village doesn’t exist.”

“You hadn’t heard all the stories about Cache, because even if you believed only half of ‘em, you wouldn’t want to be finding it.”

“I’m not a coward. I want to help my friend.”

Tom shook his head. “You ever stopped to think that it’s far more likely your friend has told you a story because she’s got trouble with the law or a man? Some women always got problems with a man.”

“You could be right, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try to find her and help if she’s in trouble.”

He sighed. “You seem to be a nice woman, looking out for someone that ain’t even kin. I wish I could help.”

“Do you recall anyone with a daughter, about twenty or so, that lives out in the swamp?” Max asked.

“The swamp people’s got very little cash, and what they have they don’t spend on food service, so I don’t see them much. When they come into town, it’s for gas and minimal supplies. Talk to Danny over at the gas station. He may be able to help you.”

“Thanks,” Max said. “I’ll check with him when we leave.”

Tom glanced at the two old men in the corner and they rose to leave. They nodded to Tom and left the restaurant without so much as a backward glance. Colette looked out the plate-glass window and saw them cross the street and go into the gas station. She looked over at Max, who barely shook his head.

Colette tackled what was left of her lunch, anxious to leave. She felt more uncomfortable in this café than she ever had anywhere else. The undercurrents were almost palpable.

The waitress returned from the back and removed their empty plates from the counter. Colette noticed her movements were jerky and she barely looked at them. “Do you know where to find any of the swamp people?” Colette asked the waitress.

She stiffened and glanced over at Tom before replying. “I don’t ever go into the swamp. It’s too dangerous.”

“Have you ever met any of the people when they come here?” Colette asked. “A young Creole woman, about twenty?”

The waitress grabbed a dish towel and started wiping down the coffeepot behind the counter. “I don’t know any girl. Don’t know any swamp people.”

Max pulled out his wallet and left some money on the counter. “Thanks for the information and the food,” he said.

Tom nodded, but the waitress didn’t even look up. As soon as they got outside the café, Colette said, “The old men went to warn the gas-station guy we were coming, didn’t they?”

“Probably, which is interesting.”

“Tom was lying. What are they hiding?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t believe our reason for wanting to find Cache.” Max pointed to the gas station and they started across the street.

“Then what else could we possibly want?”

“Maybe reporters writing a story. Maybe someone looking for the ability to do black arts. If Cache really exists somewhere in the swamp near this town, they’ve managed to keep its location a secret for a long time. There must be something in it for the locals to keep the town protected.”

A chill passed over Colette, even though it was a warm fall afternoon. “What could be so important or so dangerous that generations of people made sure it stayed a secret all these years, and what would the villagers have to give to the townspeople to gain such a collective silence?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t know, but I have to tell you, I don’t get a good feeling about this.”

As they approached the gas station, the two old men who’d left the café walked out the front door and hurried down the sidewalk, careful to avoid making eye contact. Colette looked beyond the gas station to the dense swamp behind it.

She didn’t get a good feeling, either.

Max held open the door and they walked inside the station. A man, probably in his thirties, with unkempt brown hair and wearing a greasy shirt and jeans was stocking a beer cooler and looked up when the bell above the door jangled on their entry.

“You folks need gas?” he asked.

“No, we were hoping for some information.”

The man straightened and walked over to them. “My name’s Danny Pitre. I own this station.” He extended his hand to Max, who shook it, and then nodded at Colette.

“What kind of information you looking for?” Danny asked.

“We’re looking for Cache,” Max said.

Danny narrowed his eyes. “You the people from the café?”

“Yes.”

“Old Joe told me you was looking for a missing girl that claimed she was from Cache.”

“That’s right. She’s my fiancée’s friend and coworker. She hasn’t reported to work for several days and we can’t reach her by cell.”

Danny rubbed his chin and studied them for several seconds. “Truth is, I had a boat stolen last week. One of the old-timers said he saw a young girl with dark hair in it but figured I’d rented it to some city fool, which is why he didn’t tell me about seeing it till I mentioned it was missing.”

Colette felt her pulse spike. It must have been Anna who stole the boat, trying to get to the village.

Danny looked over at her. “Your friend a thief?”

“Not usually,” Colette said, “but her message said it was an emergency. I suppose she may have borrowed your boat intending to return it.”

“Did you ever find the boat?” Max asked.

“Yeah. A fisherman towed it in yesterday. He found it floating loose out in the swamp.”

Colette felt her back tighten. Surely Anna would have known the proper way to secure a boat. Had something happened to her while she was on it? Had she fallen off somewhere in the swamp and met with one of the many deadly predators? Colette didn’t want to think about the many unpleasant possibilities.

“Tom over at the café said you may know where some of the swamp people live,” Max said. “I figure if we could find some of them, even if they aren’t the girl’s family, word may get back to them.”

“Ain’t no way to get back to the swamp people but by boat. You got one?”

“No. I was hoping to rent one, but if that’s not possible here, I guess I’ll head back to New Orleans and rustle one up.”

Danny shook his head. “Well, I sure do give you dedication to your word. I can loan you the boat that was stolen, no charge. It’s small but you can’t fit much where you’ll be going. I’ll have to charge you for the gas, though. It’s been a slow month.”

“That’s no problem. I appreciate the loan.”

“You may not be so grateful once you get out into the swamp. It’s no place for the untrained. Did you grow up around these parts?”

“Vodoun. I did plenty of tromping through the swamp as a boy.”

“I thought your accent was local,” Danny said. “Well, then you might be all right, but I’ll loan you my shotgun, just in case.” He waved to the back door and started walking toward it. “Boat’s out back. Let’s get it in the water and then I’ll tell you where to start looking.”

Colette struggled with feelings of relief, anticipation and fear that they were already too late to help Anna. If everything turned out badly, she had to be ready to accept that at least she had an answer. Living without one would be something she never could have accepted.

Max helped Danny push the tiny, flat-bottom, aluminum boat into the bayou, and Danny tied it off at the dock. Then he pointed west down the bayou.

“You’re going to want to head that way about a mile,” Danny said. “When you come to the cypress tree that’s been split by lightning, take a right into that channel. Follow it for another two miles or so into the swamp. When you see a line of crab pots, look east and you’ll see a dock almost hidden in the undergrowth. There’s a cabin about fifty yards back from the dock. You got that?”

“Yeah, it seems straightforward enough.”

“Finding a cabin isn’t the problem. The real danger comes if you find the people. They don’t take kindly to strangers, and they’re just as apt to shoot you as talk to you. Make sure you tell them straight out that you’re not the police. They probably don’t even know the rules, much less follow them, so it causes them some problems with the law on occasion. There’s no love lost there.”

“I’ll make sure I yell it loudly.”

“Just a minute,” Danny said and walked back inside the gas station and came back a few minutes later with a shotgun that he handed to Max.

Max checked the gun and took the handful of spare bullets that Danny offered. “Thanks. I hope I won’t need to use this.”

“Me, too,” Danny said. “The walk from the dock to the cabin is probably the most dangerous part. Be sure to watch for snakes and alligators, and of course, any unhappy swamp people. You don’t stand much of a chance against any of them in a one-on-one fight, except maybe a snake, and I guess I don’t have to tell you how far off the hospital is.”

Danny looked over at Colette. “Ma’am, are you sure you want to go? You’re welcome to wait here if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” Colette replied. “I’m the one who made the promise. I can’t let someone else take all the risk for keeping my word.”

Danny grinned. “You got spunk. I like that.” He walked toward the gas station and gave them a wave. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You know, he’s right,” Max said. “You don’t have to come. In fact, it would probably be safer if you didn’t.”

“I don’t know that I agree.” Colette glanced back at the town. “I don’t get a good feeling about this place.”

Max nodded. “There’s definitely an undercurrent of something unpleasant. More than just resenting nosy strangers.”

“Do you think they know something about Anna that they’re not telling us?”

“Maybe, or they may be hiding something completely unrelated that they don’t want us to stumble onto. It’s impossible to say.”

“Well, despite the many dangers of the swamp, I’d rather be out there with you. Besides, if we find people who know Anna, you won’t be able to answer questions they may have about her. I can. And the reality is, you’ll probably look less threatening to them with a woman tagging along.”

“That’s true enough.”

“There’s something that bothers me,” Colette said. “Anna took money out of her account before coming here. Why would she steal the boat when she could have rented it?”

“You said she wasn’t supposed to return, right? Maybe she didn’t want anyone knowing she was coming. If she’d rented the boat, word would have spread. A young girl traipsing around the swamp alone would raise some eyebrows.”

“I guess so.”

Max pulled his cell phone from his pocket and frowned. “No service. I figured as much, but it means we have no backup. You still sure?”

She should have known that cell phones would be useless this deep in bayou country, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Still, it didn’t change what they had to do.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said and motioned to the boat. “Hop in and I’ll push us off.”

Colette stepped into the boat and took a seat on the narrow bench in the middle. Max untied the boat and pushed it from the dock, stepping into the boat as it backed away. He took a seat at the back and started the outboard motor, then powered the boat down the bayou in the direction Danny had indicated.

As soon as they were out of sight of the town, he slowed down to a crawl. “Do you know how to fire a shotgun?” he asked.

“Doesn’t everyone in Louisiana? The natives, anyway.”

Max smiled. “Probably.” He handed her the rifle. “I have my pistol, but I didn’t want to turn down the offer of the rifle. If you’re comfortable handling it, then I think it’s better if we’re both armed.”

Colette took the rifle and laid it across her legs. “I can handle it.”

The weight of the rifle across her legs provided a bit more feeling of security. She trusted Max to protect her to the best of his abilities, but sometimes the swamp offered up more than any one man could handle. If the legends were to be believed, the swamps of Mystere Parish could offer up more than a team of men could handle.

Max increased the boat’s speed and they continued down the bayou. The farther they progressed, the narrower the channel became until the trees from each bank met each other at the tops, creating a dark tunnel.

Colette blinked a couple of times, trying to hurry her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She scanned the bank as they went. She told herself she was looking for a sign of habitation, but Colette knew that deep down, she was hoping to spot Anna standing on the bank, alive and well and ready to go back to New Orleans and resume her new life again.

Ready to escape this dank tomb of moss and dead vegetation.

Max slowed the boat’s speed even more as the waterway became narrower and more clogged with debris. Decaying water lilies spread out in front of them, a cover of death over the still water. The smell of salt water, mud and rot filled the silent air. Only the hum of the boat motor echoed around them.

Even for the middle of the day, which was traditionally nap time in the swamp, it was too quiet. It was as if all living things had gone still in order to watch them as they moved deeper into the abyss. For a practical woman like Colette, it bothered her how unnerved she felt. One look at the grim expression on Max’s face let her know he wasn’t any happier with the situation than she was.

“Over there,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

She looked toward the shore where he pointed, and could barely make out a dock, hidden in the tall marsh grass. Max guided the boat over to the dock and inched it onto the bank.

“The dock doesn’t look too sturdy,” Max said. “We’re going to get our feet wet, but I don’t think stepping out on that relic is a good idea.”

“I agree,” Colette said and handed Max the rifle while she stepped out onto the muddy bank. She sank several inches in the soupy, black mud and felt mud and water ooze into her tennis shoes.

She took the rifle back from Max and plodded up the bank until she hit firm ground. “I hope we don’t have to run. I just added ten pounds of weight directly on my feet.”

“Yeah,” Max said as he stepped carefully out of the boat. “You can move slowly to minimize impact, but Louisiana mud is still going to claim a portion of your legs. We really weren’t prepared for this. We need boots.”

“Do you think we should have gone back for equipment?”

“No. We were already here, and the longer Anna is missing, the more likely something bad will happen. We can take a look around, and if we don’t find anything, we’ll come back tomorrow better prepared.”

“I guess we tipped our hand by coming here, right? If we’d left earlier, it would have given them all the time in the world to design stories and hide things. Assuming the locals are part of whatever Anna got into.”

“Yeah, but sending us on a wild-goose chase would give them the same opportunity.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. Danny could easily have sent us off in the wrong direction.” She sighed. “I would make a horrible criminal.”

“Fortunately for law enforcement, most people do.” Max scanned the brush and pointed just to the left of where they stood. “I think I see the trail there.”

He walked about ten feet into the undergrowth and paused, scanning the area again. “It’s definitely not well traveled, but I don’t see signs of another trail. This must be the one.”

Colette peered down the tiny path, but within a matter of feet, the dense undergrowth had swallowed up the tiny trail. She took a deep breath, trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong following this tiny trail into the unknown.

“You ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’m getting.”

“Make sure you keep the shotgun handy, but stay close to me. The last thing we need is an accident with that gun.”

He pushed some brush aside and started down the trail at a steady pace. She swallowed, then clutched the shotgun and fell in step a foot behind Max. Far enough away not to bump into him but close enough that she couldn’t lift the shotgun and fire on him if panicked. He set a slow, deliberate pace, scanning the brush in front of them as well as the sides. The cypress trees clustered closer and closer together, reducing visibility to the equivalent of twilight.

She clutched the gun, tucking her arms as close to her body as possible. The dying bushes and brambles scratched her bare arms as they passed down the trail. When tiny rays of sunlight managed to slip through the canopy of trees, huge spiderwebs glittered.

“Watch overhead, will you?” he asked. “I’m casing the ground and scanning ahead and to the sides, but snakes may still be in the trees.”

Colette said a silent prayer as she looked up into the branches ahead of them. If a snake fell out of a tree onto her, the investigation would be over. She was certain she’d have a heart attack on the spot.

“If someone lives back here, why isn’t this path more worn?” she asked.

“Given that the dock was also falling apart, my guess is they have another way to get to the living quarters and have abandoned the old one.”

“Assuming anyone still lives out here.”

“Yep, which is questionable given that we don’t know if the source of the information is trustworthy.”

“How did you do this every day?”

“Ha. In all my years of police work, I never once tromped through a snake-infested swamp, but I assume that’s not what you’re asking.”

“No. I meant questioning people and trying to figure out what was the truth. Considering that everyone is probably lying about something, and trying to figure out whether it’s about something important.”

“I don’t know that it’s much different from what doctors do when diagnosing a patient. Basically, the symptoms are the answers, but some of the answers may be inaccurate or related to something else completely. Sometimes you have to track a symptom back to the root to determine it’s benign or unrelated to the bigger problem. It’s the same with answers.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Colette appreciated his take on her line of work. It was a perspective she hadn’t considered before.

The light dimmed suddenly, and Colette looked up through the narrow slit between the trees to see a dark cloud covering the sun. “Is it supposed to storm today?” she asked.

He glanced up at the sky and frowned. “No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t.”

The last thing Colette wanted was to get caught out in the swamp in a thunderstorm. “How much farther, do you think?”

“I’m just guessing at distance, but we should be close.”

“Too close!” A burly man wearing overalls stepped out from the brush with a shotgun leveled directly at Max’s chest.