The Vanishing. Jana DeLeonЧитать онлайн книгу.
weight of the rifle across her legs provided a bit more feeling of security. She trusted Max to protect her to the best of his abilities, but sometimes the swamp offered up more than any one man could handle. If the legends were to be believed, the swamps of Mystere Parish could offer up more than a team of men could handle.
Max increased the boat’s speed and they continued down the bayou. The farther they progressed, the narrower the channel became until the trees from each bank met each other at the tops, creating a dark tunnel.
Colette blinked a couple of times, trying to hurry her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She scanned the bank as they went. She told herself she was looking for a sign of habitation, but Colette knew that deep down, she was hoping to spot Anna standing on the bank, alive and well and ready to go back to New Orleans and resume her new life again.
Ready to escape this dank tomb of moss and dead vegetation.
Max slowed the boat’s speed even more as the waterway became narrower and more clogged with debris. Decaying water lilies spread out in front of them, a cover of death over the still water. The smell of salt water, mud and rot filled the silent air. Only the hum of the boat motor echoed around them.
Even for the middle of the day, which was traditionally nap time in the swamp, it was too quiet. It was as if all living things had gone still in order to watch them as they moved deeper into the abyss. For a practical woman like Colette, it bothered her how unnerved she felt. One look at the grim expression on Max’s face let her know he wasn’t any happier with the situation than she was.
“Over there,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
She looked toward the shore where he pointed, and could barely make out a dock, hidden in the tall marsh grass. Max guided the boat over to the dock and inched it onto the bank.
“The dock doesn’t look too sturdy,” Max said. “We’re going to get our feet wet, but I don’t think stepping out on that relic is a good idea.”
“I agree,” Colette said and handed Max the rifle while she stepped out onto the muddy bank. She sank several inches in the soupy, black mud and felt mud and water ooze into her tennis shoes.
She took the rifle back from Max and plodded up the bank until she hit firm ground. “I hope we don’t have to run. I just added ten pounds of weight directly on my feet.”
“Yeah,” Max said as he stepped carefully out of the boat. “You can move slowly to minimize impact, but Louisiana mud is still going to claim a portion of your legs. We really weren’t prepared for this. We need boots.”
“Do you think we should have gone back for equipment?”
“No. We were already here, and the longer Anna is missing, the more likely something bad will happen. We can take a look around, and if we don’t find anything, we’ll come back tomorrow better prepared.”
“I guess we tipped our hand by coming here, right? If we’d left earlier, it would have given them all the time in the world to design stories and hide things. Assuming the locals are part of whatever Anna got into.”
“Yeah, but sending us on a wild-goose chase would give them the same opportunity.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. Danny could easily have sent us off in the wrong direction.” She sighed. “I would make a horrible criminal.”
“Fortunately for law enforcement, most people do.” Max scanned the brush and pointed just to the left of where they stood. “I think I see the trail there.”
He walked about ten feet into the undergrowth and paused, scanning the area again. “It’s definitely not well traveled, but I don’t see signs of another trail. This must be the one.”
Colette peered down the tiny path, but within a matter of feet, the dense undergrowth had swallowed up the tiny trail. She took a deep breath, trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong following this tiny trail into the unknown.
“You ready?” he asked.
“As ready as I’m getting.”
“Make sure you keep the shotgun handy, but stay close to me. The last thing we need is an accident with that gun.”
He pushed some brush aside and started down the trail at a steady pace. She swallowed, then clutched the shotgun and fell in step a foot behind Max. Far enough away not to bump into him but close enough that she couldn’t lift the shotgun and fire on him if panicked. He set a slow, deliberate pace, scanning the brush in front of them as well as the sides. The cypress trees clustered closer and closer together, reducing visibility to the equivalent of twilight.
She clutched the gun, tucking her arms as close to her body as possible. The dying bushes and brambles scratched her bare arms as they passed down the trail. When tiny rays of sunlight managed to slip through the canopy of trees, huge spiderwebs glittered.
“Watch overhead, will you?” he asked. “I’m casing the ground and scanning ahead and to the sides, but snakes may still be in the trees.”
Colette said a silent prayer as she looked up into the branches ahead of them. If a snake fell out of a tree onto her, the investigation would be over. She was certain she’d have a heart attack on the spot.
“If someone lives back here, why isn’t this path more worn?” she asked.
“Given that the dock was also falling apart, my guess is they have another way to get to the living quarters and have abandoned the old one.”
“Assuming anyone still lives out here.”
“Yep, which is questionable given that we don’t know if the source of the information is trustworthy.”
“How did you do this every day?”
“Ha. In all my years of police work, I never once tromped through a snake-infested swamp, but I assume that’s not what you’re asking.”
“No. I meant questioning people and trying to figure out what was the truth. Considering that everyone is probably lying about something, and trying to figure out whether it’s about something important.”
“I don’t know that it’s much different from what doctors do when diagnosing a patient. Basically, the symptoms are the answers, but some of the answers may be inaccurate or related to something else completely. Sometimes you have to track a symptom back to the root to determine it’s benign or unrelated to the bigger problem. It’s the same with answers.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Colette appreciated his take on her line of work. It was a perspective she hadn’t considered before.
The light dimmed suddenly, and Colette looked up through the narrow slit between the trees to see a dark cloud covering the sun. “Is it supposed to storm today?” she asked.
He glanced up at the sky and frowned. “No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t.”
The last thing Colette wanted was to get caught out in the swamp in a thunderstorm. “How much farther, do you think?”
“I’m just guessing at distance, but we should be close.”
“Too close!” A burly man wearing overalls stepped out from the brush with a shotgun leveled directly at Max’s chest.
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