“Max, thanks, that’s great. I’ll tell the others.”
“Tell us what?” Patricia demanded.
She waved an impatient hand again, trying to get them to shut up while she was still talking.
“When are you coming back?” she asked Max. “I need to ask you—”
“Do what you need to do. I’m not sure yet when I’m coming back. You’ve got my cell—call me with any problems. And for tonight, let loose. Eat, drink and be merry. We’ll talk soon.”
“Max—”
He’d hung up.
“What did he say?” Julian demanded.
She told them about their ranking in the tourist mag. A cheer went up, and then a toast. “Did we order food?” Nikki demanded.
“Our little China doll is getting tipsy!” Patricia teased.
Nikki groaned. “Hey, for real.”
“Hey, for real,” Julian assured her. “We’ve got a shrimp and crawfish appetizer coming, gumbo and a special thing, pork, red beans and rice…succotash, darlin’!” he teased, managing to sound just like Max.
“Thank God,” she murmured.
“Indeed. Another toast,” Nathan said, raising his glass. “We’re the best. And congrats to Nikki, our blond beauty.”
“Hey, don’t look now, but that guy over there is looking to be a couple tonight,” Patricia said, nodding toward the other side of the room.
“He’s looking at Nikki, not me,” Andy said.
Nikki twisted around. The guy in question was nice looking, sandy-haired, either a businessman letting down his hair, or maybe a college student.
“No, I think he’s looking at you, Andy,” she said.
“Ladies, ladies, I hate to disappoint you, but I think he’s looking at me,” Mitch said.
Another round of drinks came to the table. Nikki’s head was beginning to buzz, but it was a celebration, and she did need to let loose now and then.
So she ate crawfish and had another Hurricane, and laughed at the banter around the table.
The plane rose, angling into the air.
Below, there was light.
And darkness.
Along the coast, the highly populated sections were ablaze with artificial light. Housing and commercial development were pushing the boundaries, eating up great chunks of the Everglades.
And yet the great area of no-man’s-land remained, thick with grass and slow-moving water—and darkness.
South Florida. From the air, it was easy to see just how much of the landscape was still taken up by the “river of grass,” since, technically, the Glades weren’t swampland at all.
Brent loved it, loved the festivals held by the Seminole and Miccosukee Indians. He loved playing guitar with his friends. Loved the seemingly endless expanse of the Glades, even with the mosquitoes, snakes and alligators.
The Everglades made a great place to dump bodies, too. When someone went missing…well, the police knew where to look.
This was his home now, the place he’d chosen to live. But there was also the home of his childhood.
After the deaths of his parents, his grandfather had been his legal guardian, so he’d spent a great deal of time, school vacations, holidays, summers, in South Dakota. But his mom’s family had been among many Irish immigrants to the Deep South, and until recently, they’d lived in the parish of his birth. Most of the time when he’d been growing up had been spent with that side of his family, in Louisiana.
New Orleans. The French Quarter. Where he’d been born.
He knew the area far too well.
New Orleans. And beyond the Vieux Carré, the bayous. Endless canals. Alligators, shrimp and shrimpers, crawfish, Cajun food…
There were bodies there, too. And strange events that went beyond the accepted norm…
It was what he did, he reminded himself.
But not always by choice.
New Orleans.
Damn, but he hated to go home.
4
“Help me! Nikki, wake up and help me!”
Nikki woke groggily from a deep sleep. She forced her eyes open.
“Nikki, please, for the love of God…there’s nothing. I have nothing. Tell them—you’ve got to tell them!”
She blinked. There was a soft glow of green light emanating from her clock, and a thin gleam coming from the bathroom, from the night-light she kept on. She had failed to fully close the draperies across the sliding doors in her bedroom. Though she faced the small garden area at the rear of the house, enough light made it into the back that a gentle glow came in through the window. Though the light seemed pale and misty, she could see the basic shapes of the furniture in her room.
And the woman at the foot of the bed.
Andrea was standing there, clad in a long T-shirt advertising the New Orleans Saints. Her long dark hair was tousled, as if she’d just gotten out of bed.
“Andy, what are you doing here? What are you talking about?” she asked, glancing over at her bedside clock. Almost 4:00 a.m. They had only parted at two, and after all those Hurricanes, Nikki felt as if her mind was moving on a very slow track. In fact, her head was pounding. She had to be dreaming, but it was unfair for her head to hurt so badly in a dream.
“Go away, Andy. You’re the one who kept ordering the drinks,” she grumbled miserably.
“The bum in the coffee shop, he’s dead, Nikki.”
Nikki shook her head, which made it hurt even more. “Andy, we didn’t know the guy. We couldn’t know if he’s dead.” She stopped to think for a minute, but between the liquor and exhaustion, she knew she wasn’t doing too well.
“How did you get in here, anyway? If you guys are trying to scare me… Did Julian put you up to this? Hell, I don’t really care right now. Go away. And lock the door behind you when you go.”
“Nikki! Please…help!”
“I understand a joke, Andy, but I really feel like hell. So…ha, ha, go away.”
“Nikki, for the love of God,” Andy implored. “Wake up…I think…I think it’s you they’re after.”
“Andy, go away. Go home. What the hell are you doing out dressed like that, anyway? Look—I’m closing my eyes. When I open them, you’re going to be gone. And if those other idiots are with you, tell them to get out, too.”
“Okay, I’m going to open my eyes, Andy, and you’d best be gone!”
She opened her eyes. To her amazement, Andy was gone.
“Make sure my front door is locked when you go!” she called.
She sighed. She needed to get up and make sure that the door had been locked. She should close the drapes—and avoid the sun that was going to tear into her eyes in the morning. But none of them had to work tomorrow morning. Not until night…the eight o’clock tour. Ample time to recover, and so, to get in all the healing sleep she needed. She should get up…
She couldn’t quite do it. Couldn’t quite make herself get up.
She closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.
When