Michaela Thompson - Florida Panhandle 01 - Hurricane Season (18 page)

“God forgive me if I’m doing wrong,” said Pearl.

“You’re doing right. He’ll forgive you,” said Lily. “What is it?”

“I didn’t know it had anything to do with Miss Di,” said Pearl. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Mr. Snapper is mixed up in a moonshine operation. I heard all about it, right here in this kitchen. There’s a still over on St. Elmo Island.”

“You can’t mean it.”

“A big fat man was right here the other night, telling Mr. Snapper about how the Calhouns had found out about their still and were waiting for them, only Bo Calhoun’s wife warned them off. And about how they had dynamited the Calhouns’ still.”

Lily felt more breathless than she had when Josh knocked her down. “This can’t be true, Pearl.”

“It’s true. But I said to myself, ‘Pearl, he’s your boss. It’s none of your business anyway.’ But if it has to do with my girl—” Pearl sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands.

Numbly, Lily skirted the table and patted Pearl on the shoulder. “Now Pearl,” she said. She squeezed her arm. “We’ll figure something out.”

“He’s scared the Calhouns will find out and come after him,” Pearl said, her voice tight. “And you tell me he said they got Miss Diana first.”

Lily’s mind was racing. If she told Woody about this, she would be putting Josh in danger. She had to do something, and do it now.

She stood up. “Pearl, you better go on home. It’s dangerous to stay here with Snapper like this.”

Pearl’s face was grim. “I’m going,” she said. “He’s the reason my girl is dead. I’m not staying here.”

They left together, by the back door. Pearl got in her car and drove away without another word.

Driving back as fast as she could go, clouds scudding overhead, Lily gauged the progress of the storm. She could be on the island in twenty minutes after leaving the landing, if the weather held as she thought it would. If the storm hit while she was there, she could wait it out at Sam Perry’s. The important thing was to get to Josh as soon as possible. If Snapper was in danger from the Calhouns, Josh was also. And she had to tell him that Snapper was the man behind the island moonshine operation. She pushed the accelerator and watched the sand blowing in a fine layer across the road in front of her.

So it came down to the Calhouns and Snapper, Snapper versus the Calhouns. With Diana somehow caught between them. With Diana caught. A thought hit her with such mesmerizing force that she almost swerved off the road. A poem Diana had written danced in her mind. She couldn’t quite remember. But didn’t it have to do with choosing between her father and someone else? Choosing someone else? Had Diana had to choose between her father and the Calhouns?

She skidded to a stop in front of the store, got out of the car, and ran across the street toward her house. Pearl had said Bo Calhoun’s wife warned Snapper’s bunch of an ambush. Why would Sue Nell Calhoun do that? She would have to be angry—very angry—with her husband to betray him that way. Lily thought of Bo staring at Diana’s grave, and of Sue Nell’s absence from the funeral. All Diana’s poems, she thought. All Diana’s poems were written to Bo Calhoun.

She slammed into the empty house, the screen door banging behind her. She found Diana’s composition book on her bedside table and leafed through it, her hands shaking. Here it was:

Honor thy father and mother
,

The Bible tells us to.

My mother is gone, my father’s like stone,

And I’d rather honor you.

I didn’t know it would mean choosing,

And choosing is hard, it’s true.

But when it came to a decision

I knew I would have to choose you.

I’d like to have honored my father

If it hadn’t been so hard to do.

So I won’t even try, just let it go by,

And instead I’ll honor you.

That’s it, that’s it, thought Lily. She chose Bo. And I’ll bet she wrote that letter to the Beverage Department. She’s the reason Josh is here.

She pulled a flowered oilcloth table cover out of a kitchen drawer, wrapped Diana’s book in it, and tied it with string. With the package under her arm, she tied a scarf on her head. An old raincoat of Aubrey’s was hanging on the coat rack, and she snatched it and put it on. It hung almost to her ankles, the sleeves brushing her knuckles.

The Calhouns will find that still, and then there’ll be trouble, she thought. She stopped just long enough to lock the house and then, under a lowering sky, ran down to the landing and her boat.

Lily had handled a boat in rough water before. This wasn’t the worst, but it was bad. Whitecaps were starting to form, and occasionally one broke against the boat and she caught the spray in her face. Still, she felt excited by the adventure of what she was doing, and not particularly worried. She made steadily for the island, the boat slapping over the waves, the wind in her face making tears form in her eyes.

The need to wipe away the moisture made her turn around momentarily. After blotting her eyes with the end of her scarf, she blinked. Two boats were behind her, just leaving the mainland.

The boats were too far away for her to see who was in them, but Lily had a strong suspicion it was the Calhouns. Nobody without a compelling reason would be on the bay at all. If the Calhouns had discovered that their rivals were on the island, though, the possibility of a hurricane wouldn’t stop them.

She turned her face forward again, her confident mood gone. They probably didn’t know exactly where the still was. She’d have to get there first. She turned around again and saw, or imagined she saw, that the boats had gained on her a little. She thought she could make out two figures in each boat. Her throttle was open as wide as it would go. She set her face forward.

The wind was increasing steadily, and in its teeth rounding the end of the island took twice as long as usual. The sight of the open Gulf was stunning. Whitecaps all the way to the horizon, both sky and water gunmetal gray.

Lily’s arm was stiff from clinging to the tiller. The coast of the island was altered by the rapidly rising tide. Now I just need to find that creek, she thought.

The buzzing of the Calhouns’ motors mingled in her mind with the ocean noises. She tried to remember what had led her to the creek before. A break in the grass? But the grass was quickly being inundated by the swirling water. There had been, she thought, an unexpected plant. A yucca plant. And up ahead she saw it, its spiky bulk still obvious above the tide. As she turned into the creek, she looked back and saw that no boats had rounded the point.

It was dark under the pines. The thunder began as she guided the boat along the twisting waterway. A moment later, a drop of rain hit her wrist. She docked her boat where she’d tied up before. Another drop of rain landed in the bottom of the boat near her foot. As she started off through the woods, she thought she heard the motors again.

She ran, heedless of noise. Lightning flared briefly, followed by thunder. She’d have to hurry to beat the Calhouns.

The blond man grabbed her arm before she saw him. She had assumed, without thinking about it, that Josh would be guarding the still as he had before. Being confronted with an angry-looking stranger holding a shotgun was the last thing she had planned on.

“Where you heading?” His voice was harsh.

Lily shook her head, temporarily shocked out of speech. Rain began to patter lightly in the woods around them. “I need to see Josh.”

The motors were louder now, unmistakable. The blond man glanced in the direction of the noise, then back at her. “What the hell for?”

Lily was damp with sweat and rain. “Please let me see him.”

“I’m taking you to camp.” He dragged her along, her raincoat catching on brambles. In a few minutes they entered a clearing where two men—one fat, one with bristly hair—were moving equipment. Relief swept over Lily when she saw Josh nailing boards across the windows of a shed. He turned, and his arm fell slack when he saw her. The other two men stopped work and straightened up.

“Found her in the woods,” the blond man said.

Lily wasn’t sure what to do. She decided waiting would be a mistake. “The Calhouns are coming,” she blurted out. “They left right behind me.”

The little group converged on her. “What do you mean?” the fat man said.

“They’re on their way. You can hear the motors.” Nobody said anything. The only sound was the rain and wind in the trees.

“Sure you can,” the fat man said.

The blond man, who still held her arm, said, “I did hear something a while back, though.”

“They’ll be here any minute,” said Lily.

The bristly-haired man said, “Oh God,” and looked around at the trees.

“She asked to see Josh,” the blond man said.

The fat man squinted at her. “What’s your name?”

“Lily Trulock.”

“From the grocery store?”

“Yes.”

He looked at Josh. “You know her?” Josh nodded, looking numb. The fat man indicated the shed. “I want to talk to both of you. Get on over there.”

Lily and Josh had almost reached the shed when a sharp crack split the air followed immediately by the glare of lightning. Lily turned and in the weird illumination saw the bristly-haired man grab at his stomach. Josh pulled her toward the bushes beside the shed, and from their cover she watched the blond man aim his gun and fire at the moving figure she could see through the trees. The rain began to pour in sheets. Through it and the thunder, Lily heard the screams of the man who’d been shot. The fat man, more nimbly than she would have supposed, grabbed a gun and crouched behind the table.

“Oh Christ. Oh Christ,” Josh said. “They shot Larry.”

“It’s the Calhouns,” Lily said. “I came to warn you. And to tell you—”

Suddenly Josh scrambled from their hiding place toward the wounded man who was lying, quiet now, on the ground. Startled, Lily waited a second, then followed. Amid the gunfire, Josh took Larry under the arms and Lily took his feet. They dragged him into the shed.

The drumming of rain on the corrugated tin roof almost drowned out the muffled thuds of the shots. “Larry,” said Josh.

Larry’s eyes flickered, unfocused. “Hey ” he said, and Lily saw his mouth fill with blood. His head fell to one side, and the blood oozed onto the dirt floor.

“Oh God,” said Josh. He put his head to Larry’s chest, then felt his pulse. When he turned to Lily, his eyes looked large and very black. “He’s dead. Let’s go,” he said. They slipped out the door and into the trees behind the shed.

Several times during their frantic progress through the woods Lily thought of letting Josh go on without her. Her legs felt rubbery, and she seemed to be constantly watching his back disappear. At the point she’d decide she’d lost him, though, he would turn and wait. Her heart labored, and she wondered if this were how Aubrey felt when he had his attack. She was no longer conscious of her streaming hair under the wet scarf, or the ground squelching under her sandals, or anything but the tightness in her chest.

Josh halted abruptly in front of her and held up his hand for caution. She crept up behind him and followed his gaze through the trees. The edge of the creek was almost in front of them. A little way down was a dock where several boats were tied. Standing on the dock, wearing foul-weather gear and holding a shotgun, was Lester Calhoun.

“We can take my boat,” whispered Lily, nodding downstream.

They went more slowly now, fearful of alerting Lester. The trees were thrashing in the wind, and the storm noises drowned out any possibility of knowing if the gun battle continued. Finally they reached her boat. Several inches of water had collected in the bottom. Lily found an old bait can and bailed while Josh started the motor.

Once they were on the bay the boat wallowed helplessly. Waves slapped the bow and sprayed in their faces, and water slopped over the sides. Lily bailed furiously, knowing it was doing no good, knowing it was useful only for keeping her mind and body occupied.

The only advantage was that the chance of pursuit was slim. The boat reared like a bucking horse, and she closed her eyes until it was obvious they would stay upright.

Although they were keeping as close as possible to land, Lily could barely see the coastline through the gray downpour. She strained to see if they were making progress. They were trying to round the point. How long had they been opposite that bulking line of trees? Lightning flashed, and she lurched forward, instinctively ducking her head.

She looked at Josh. His arms bulged as he fought to control the boat, and his face was taut. He had only his thin, short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants against the gale. He’d felt kindly toward the man who was killed, she thought, and realized that until that moment she had forgotten that she’d just seen someone die.

The seas grew worse. As the boat was slammed from wave to wave, Lily began to fear that it would break up. She had heard of such things and seen splintered boards washed up on the beach after a storm. Once she had found a Thermos bottle with coffee still in it. She had poured the coffee out on the sand. “You have to pull in!” she yelled at Josh. “We won’t make the mainland!”

Josh nodded. As they neared the shore Lily recognized the terrain. They had come further than she thought. Up ahead was the Elmo House. “The hotel!” she cried.

They washed in to the beach on boiling waves. Lily jumped out in knee-deep surf to pull the boat in. The tide had risen so high that the abandoned pool in front of the hotel was filling with sea water. She tied the boat to one of the posts that held the broken-down fence.

Josh was shaking out a tarpaulin. “Get the stuff out of the boat!” he shouted.

Frenziedly, Lily took everything that came under her hand—seat cushions, another tarpaulin, a tackle box, the bait can—and put them on the beach. Rummaging under the bow, she saw something lying half in the water. What’s my tablecloth doing here, she thought, then remembered. Diana’s poems. She flung the package into the pile with the rest, then helped Josh lash the tarpaulin over the boat.

Battered by rain and nearly blown off their feet by wind, Lily and Josh labored up to the Elmo House carrying the things from the boat. Rainwater poured over the sagging floor of the hotel porch.