A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,62

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