A Bad Boy is Good to Find(41)

“A good start, I think. Thank you, Conroy.” Maisie looked disgustingly pleased with herself. In a pale beige power suit that set off her rather subtle coloring, she was elegant and composed. A perfect on-air interviewer. Lizzie could already envision the fifty year retrospective of her illustrious career in journalism, beginning with her very first on-air story…

This one.

She closed her eyes and willed away an incipient headache. “Let’s go.” She wanted to get this Mudbug Flats ordeal over with and get back to the world of hand-trimmed seamed silk stockings and artfully arranged roses that was at least familiar.

Twenty five thousand dollars. You can do it.





Chapter 15





“If it’s still there, it’s down the end of this road.” The hair on the back of Con’s neck stood on end as he steered the Jeep into the cool shadows of the familiar cypress swamp. He’d half expected the trees to have blown away or sunk or been cut down. They weren’t all that far from the big house where they were staying, but it felt like another world. Neat trailers with cars in their driveways flanked the narrow road and reassured him that they were still in ordinary America, not on a trip into a murky underworld he might not come back from alive. He was glad most of the homes looked tidy and well kept. He didn’t want Lizzie, or anyone else, to get the wrong impression.

Though why he should care, he had no idea.

“So is this Mudbug Flats?” Lizzie’s voice sounded tight.

“Not yet. Mudbug Flats is kind of the end of the line. We’ll get there soon.”

The line of houses came to an end and trees crowded the road. They went a stretch of half a mile or more without any sign of human habitation. They had the windows up to keep the A/C in and the bugs out, but he itched to roll them down and inhale the sweet honey smell of the swamp, to fill his ears with the lively bustle of birds and insects. Right now he could feel the camera trained on his right ear as he drove. Could smell Dino’s acrid sweat.

As they emerged from the darkest grove of trees his stomach tightened. His mind expected to see the pale blue walls of Tim LeJean’s old place. Nothing.

“This is the town.” His voice caught as the Jeep hung up on a pothole in the road and they lurched forward. Lizzie steadied herself with a hand on the dash.

“What town? I don’t see anything.”

Me either. A nasty cold sensation snuck up his back. Miss Dee’s store used to be right there on the left, big oil drums of produce stacked in front of the porch, fishermen smoking in the plastic chairs outside. He didn’t see anything there now except an overgrown clearing. Was the town totally destroyed? Gone?

No. A wall appeared through the thick cypress canopy and came into view as they drove further. “That’s the Gaudry place.” Relief loosened his chest. Joe Gaudry’s cabin looked solid and immovable as ever on its high pilings, sun beating down on the gray wood. “Shall we go see if anyone’s home?” He had a powerful urge to talk to someone. Even mean old Joe Gaudry. Get a heads-up on what to expect.

Procrastinate.

“No, let’s keep going to your place. We can come back.”

“Okay.” No turning back now.

Would Danny be there?

A rocket flash of anticipation surged through him and stung his fingers. A painful swell of hope and fear made him grip the steering wheel tighter.

You abandoned him.

Shame crept over him, and a host of shadowy memories loomed like the ancient cypress. A smart new trailer on the right caught his eye, and he wondered who lived there. Two yellow lawn chairs flanked a colorful kid’s wading pool. A neat ring of yellow flowers surrounded a statue of the blessed virgin.

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our…

The Jeep slammed into another pothole. The blacktop had deteriorated once they entered Mudbug Flats. Not surprising, since the population seemed to have largely vanished. He glanced at Lizzie.

“You alright?” The look of genuine concern in her eyes touched him someplace that hurt.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. The camera was trained on him, but somehow it didn’t bother him. It felt almost natural, like the eye of God.

God? What the hell was he thinking about God for? Was God now haunting the swamp he’d abandoned all those years ago?

He realized his chest was heaving. The click of his mother’s rosary beads flashed into his memory.

Holy Mary, mother…

He slammed on the brakes. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Lizzie lurched forward then turned to him, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ears.

“I didn’t tell you… I don’t… I can’t…” He couldn’t formulate words or thoughts as painful memories rushed his brain. Thoughts he’d shoved down and locked up for years pushed to the forefront of his consciousness.

Lizzie’s hand touched his arm, her fingers soft, squeezing the skin.

“It’s okay.” She sounded wary, like she didn’t believe it.

“It isn’t,” he whispered. He could hear the camera whirring. “It isn’t okay.”

“Con,” she said softly. “I don’t know what’s out there for you, but I do know that you need to face it.” She squeezed his arm again.

Their eyes met. For once there wasn’t a trace of anger, malice or cruelty in her face. Just compassion. “You know you do.”

Something stirred in his heart, and he nodded and jerked the stick shift back into drive.

What was he afraid of? The old man and his fists? The camera was protection, not that he needed it anymore. He wasn’t a skinny kid cowering under the house. He took a deep breath.

Danny wouldn’t be there. He’d be twenty-one by now, gone off to lead his own life, if he’d lived long enough to have one. The grim realization brought an emptiness that almost passed for calm.

Lizzie’s hand stayed on his arm as he drove. She rubbed it, intending to be reassuring, but her touch stirred up more anxiety. She’d regret this maybe more than he would.

He wasn’t going to be able to play it the way she wanted.

His blood pressure ratcheted as he noticed Remy’s house was gone. Just the stilts were left, poking up out of black dirt. The road itself was dirt now too, flecked with an occasional hunk of tarmac, but looking like it washed out regularly.

And there it was.

Nothing.

He threw the car into park, jerking them all forward again.

One ragged wooden stilt stuck up out of the muddy dirt.

Nothing and no one there.

“This is the place,” he muttered. So low he could barely hear his own voice. “Must have washed away.”

Lizzie had a hand pressed to her mouth.

A terrible wave of relief swept over him, followed by an undertow of guilt. Was this really it?

Oh, yes. He could feel pain and anger still lodged in the damn trees.

He jumped out of the car. The ground squelched beneath his feet. Wetter than it used to be, sinking into the swamp around them. The road continued on through the trees, but not for much further, he’d bet.