Fear Thy Neighbor (31)

She did not like being treated like she was stupid. So much of her life was spent in defense mode, and she wasn’t going take anyone’s crap. Those days were gone. With this new start, as insane as it was, she’d never felt more alive in her life. Clueless where this bone discovery would lead, she wouldn’t alter her plans. Tomorrow, she’d give Kimberly a check; then she would return to her new house and start working to make it a home.

She reached the bridge at Matlacha Pass. A large fishing boat puttered its way through the water, heading into the gulf. As soon as the stern cleared, the old swing bridge closed. Ali waited a couple seconds just to make sure the bridge was secure when the car behind her honked. Startled, she pressed the accelerator too hard and swerved to the right of the bridge. Regaining control of the Jeep, she punched the accelerator down to the floor as soon as she felt her tires hit the pavement. Checking her rearview mirror, she saw the vehicle behind her was the same gray sedan she’d seen earlier in the parking lot at the beach.

She didn’t believe in coincidences. Slowing to the thirty-five miles per hour speed limit, she glanced in her mirror again to see if she recognized the person driving the sedan. Unable to identify the driver at this distance, she returned her attention to the road ahead, focusing on why she was making this trip to Fort Charlotte. Without knowing where the sheriff’s office was located, she’d have to stop and ask for an address. Or, she reminded herself, she could call with her cell and get the address that way.

In Fort Charlotte, she spotted a Raceway station, stopping since she needed to fill her gas tank, make the call, then head to the sheriff’s department. Inside, she paid cash for the gasoline and bought a soda before returning to the Jeep. Tammy had told her she could call information on the cell just like she would on a landline, so she did and asked for the sheriff department’s number and address. A couple seconds later, an automated voice gave her the information and also sent her a text. “Nice,” she said to herself, glad she’d bought the cell phone, her earlier regrets gone.

She gathered her thoughts, as she wanted to make sure she didn’t come off as some psycho when she called. She dialed the number, then hit send. Her call was answered on the second ring.

“Palm County Sheriff’s Department; how may I direct your call?” said a friendly voice.

“I need to speak to someone about a body that was found,” she said. “A long time ago,” she added, knowing the operator might assume she was reporting a new body.

“Do you have the victim’s name?”

Surprised by the question, she said she did not.

“You’ll have to visit the clerk’s office when they’re open, as I don’t have another way to search their records. Sorry,” the operator said.

“Palmetto Island. A young girl’s remains were found there. I think it’s been a few years.”

The operator’s response wasn’t as immediate as before. “Yes, I seem to recall this. Can you hold for a moment?”

“Yes,” Ali said, thankful the woman was willing to find the information for her.

A few minutes passed. Ali was starting to think she’d somehow disconnected the call when the operator returned. “Ma’am, are you a member of the victim’s family?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t give you this information on the phone. You’ll need to go down to the clerk’s office on Monday, as I said. They’ll direct you on what steps you need to take.”

“Thanks, but can I ask why? Why did you want to know if I was a family member?”

She heard the operator sigh. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but this particular case, no one has claimed . . . the victim’s remains.”

It took a few seconds for Ali to absorb her words. “I see,” she finally said, though she didn’t. “I appreciate your help.” She hit the end button before the operator became suspicious or asked her why she wanted to know or exactly how she was connected to something that Ali, only a short while ago, thought was nothing but a rumor. What she wanted to know now was did “the rumor” have a name?





Chapter Seven


Ali sat in the parking lot for a few minutes before heading back to Palmetto Island. Lacey hadn’t been spreading rumors after all. Wishing she’d asked the operator for her name, Ali would make a trip to the clerk’s office as soon as she got settled.

The drive back to the island was uneventful. No gray sedans following her. The island was small—seeing the car at the beach, then behind her while waiting for the bridge to close, was nothing more than unwarranted paranoia. Having spent most of her life looking over her shoulder, she knew it would take time before she completely rid herself of the habit.

As she approached Matlacha Pass, a few fishermen were on the bridge, their buckets, rods and reels with red-and-white bobbers on the tips just waiting to be cast into the deep waters below. Maybe she’d try fishing. She had no clue how to get started, but if and when the time came, she would prepare herself by reading up on the subject. She was self-taught in many things—why not add fishing to the list?

Thankful the wooden swing bridge was closed, she punched the gas, going too fast, but she didn’t care. She didn’t like driving across the bridge, as it didn’t feel secure. Given her luck, it would collapse when she drove across the antiquated structure. Admittedly, there was an old charm about it, but she’d much rather have her wheels on solid ground.