one,” I said. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about it in years. I’ve only been there once when I was a kid.”
“I’d start there,” Savage said. “I’ll text you the location. Or as close to it as I can get you. Addresses aren’t really existent out there.”
“Great, I appreciate it,” I said. “Really.”
“Anything for you, kiddo.”
“You mean that?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Maybe Aunt Scarlet could stay with you for a couple of days while the house is being renovated.”
“Anything but that,” he said and hung up.
Chapter Fifteen
“Change of plans,” I said. “Savage pinged Vince’s cell phone to a fishing cabin somewhere in the bayou. I need to go now. If I wait too long it’ll be dark and I’ve never done well in the bayou when it’s dark.” I shuddered just thinking about it.
Rosemarie nodded. “You remember Kenny Lane and Judy Strand? They went into the bayou ’cause they were afraid Judy’s daddy was going to catch them doing the deed. Kenny wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and had hidden a pirogue under some tarps. He thought he was being romantic and he put a bunch of pillows and blankets in the bottom of the boat, thinking they’d float out and make love under the moonlight. Well, all he’d really done was make a snake den. They were real comfortable under those blankets until Kenny started pounding away at the poor girl. And when the police found them a few days later they were still joined, only their bodies looked like they’d been sucked dry of fluids. My cousin Ernie was water patrol then, and he quit the next day and went to work at a shoe factory. Said it was the most horrible thing he’d ever seen.”
“That’s not helping,” I said.
“It’ll be fine,” Rosemarie said. “We’ll all go together. You don’t need to be by yourself anyway.”
As much as I’d wanted to be alone only minutes earlier, I was more than happy to have them along for the trip.
I turned the van around and headed back toward Whiskey Bayou, and then I plugged Savage’s directions into the GPS. It would only take me so far, and I was going to have to rely on a childhood memory to get me the rest of the way. The only thing I remembered about the fishing cabin was that it had a green tin roof and matching shutters. My mother had also hung some chimes from the front porch, but they had sounded like ghosts to a seven-year-old girl, and after a weekend of nightmares, my father decided the fishing cabin wasn’t for me.
“I just know he’s going to be there,” Rosemarie said. “I’ve got real good instincts and I come from a long line of psychics.”
My hands were sweating as I turned onto a one-lane swamp road that led deeper into the bayou. There were fishing cabins up closer to the turnoff, but I didn’t see any vehicles or boats. And no green roofs.
“I think you’re supposed to turn left up here,” Scarlet said.
“Are you sure?” I asked, squinting at the GPS.
“Unless I’m reading it upside down,” Scarlet said. “But I don’t think I am. I’ve got a real good sense of direction. Take a left.”
The main road wasn’t the best, and there were narrower roads that snaked off in each direction that led to different camps. I didn’t know how far we’d driven along the main road, but I knew there couldn’t be too much more road left until we hit swamp, so I did as Scarlet said and took a left.
The road had been partially boarded over so larger vehicles could get through easier, but with as much rain as we’d had the last month, some of the boards had come loose and slid off the road.
“I don’t know if this is right,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. “This road is in really bad shape.”
“It’ll be fine,” Scarlet said. “Just drive a little faster so you get good traction and won’t be sliding all over the road like you’re doing.”
That seemed counterintuitive to me. It seemed if you couldn’t do something slow, then you probably wouldn’t be able to do it fast either. But I pressed down a little harder on the accelerator and the tires spun before they grabbed the road again.
“I think I should go back,” I said.
“Going back is for quitters,” Scarlet said. “Charge!”
It was too late by then. The muddy, swampy road had taken control of the van, and there wasn’t a