A Crying Shame (104 page)

We're working on the Gardner case,” a deputy told him.
And I don't know where Sheriff Saucier is. Out on patrol, probably.”

Has the FBI been called in to help? God knows, the Boy Scouts would be an improvement over you people.”

The deputy held his temper.
Not yet, sir. We don't know what happened to your Mr. Gardner. We have no proof that any violence has occurred. No sign at all. Maybe he's shacked up somewhere. There is no evidence of any struggle; there are no signs of blood anywhere near the jeep. No ransom note. What would you have us tell the FBI?”

That's your business, Deputy.”

That's right, Mr. Blackwell. That's sure right. And we're doing the best we can on it.”

I'm sure you are,” Blackwell said snottily. He wheeled about and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

The deputy let out a long, slow breath. He thought when he got off this afternoon he'd maybe drive out to the swamp and sit in his car, watching the dark waters. It always made him feel better just being close to the old mysterious swamp. He looked up as the door opened, and, with his strange yellow eyes, watched a man enter.

 

I feel kind of . . . I don't know,” the teen-ager said to her friend.
Funny, I guess.”

How do you mean?” Christy asked.

Like I'm being looked at, or something. You know?”

No, not really. But I tell you what. My legs are kind of tired, so let's take a rest. All that other stuff is probably your imagination.”

Maybe so.” She did not sound convinced.
So where do we rest?”