Chapter 30
30
“No,” Theodosia said.
Drayton stared at her in the darkness of her vehicle. “What is it, another text?”
Theodosia answered with a wooden nod.
“What’s it say?”
She showed him the text. It said: im still waiting 4 u.
“Somebody’s really getting their jollies by playing cat and mouse with us,” Drayton said. “Do you still think it’s Adam Lynch trying to send us down the wrong path?”
“We’re already down the wrong path,” Theodosia said. She felt completely worn to the bone. They’d been conned, tricked, and practically tormented. Shaking her head, she said, “Drayton, I just don’t have a clue.”
“That’s the problem,” Drayton fumed. “We don’t have a clue!”
Theodosia thought for a few moments, wondering if the texts she’d received were even legitimate. On the other hand, somebody was trying their best to draw her in. So if this was legit, how far could she push this person?
Why don’t we give it a shot and see?
Theodosia texted back: I need a clue.
They waited, not really expecting any kind of response. But a full minute later another text message appeared. This one said: see u ursa major.
“That’s a clue? Are they still taunting us?” Drayton wondered.
“I don’t know. Does ursa major mean anything to you?”
“The only thing that comes to mind is the bear constellation.”
“A constellation,” Theodosia said. “You mean like we’re supposed to gaze skyward and try to locate it? See where it points?”
“Ursa Major is an enormous constellation,” Drayton said. “The Big Dipper is only a small component of it.”
“Then I’m completely confused.”
Drayton frowned. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Do you have a map?” Drayton asked. “Not just of Charleston but a state map?”
“Sure, in the glove box.”
Drayton handed Theodosia the book, then opened the glove box. While Theodosia flipped on the overhead light, he pawed around inside and found the map, unfurled it, sighed heavily, and turned it right side up. Then he studied it.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Theodosia asked.
“Give me a moment.”
Theodosia gave him a moment. Several moments, in fact.
“Okay.” Drayton tapped a finger against a spot on the map. “Take a look at this.”
Theodosia leaned forward, squinting in the dim light. She could just make out a few words. “Bear Swamp? You think ursa major refers to Bear Swamp?”
“It’s possible,” Drayton said. “What if there’s a sawmill located in or near Bear Swamp?”
“Is there?”
“Let me see that book again.”
Theodosia handed Drayton the book.
He paged through it, stopped, then nodded to himself.
“Look at this,” Drayton said, turning the book so Theodosia could see what he’d discovered. There was a black-and-white photo of a dilapidated-looking sawmill. A caption below the photo said Logging Heart Pine in Bear Swamp .
Theodosia studied the map again. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much out there, just wilderness and acres of swampland.”
“But we’re not too far away.”
“No, probably not. If I cut back to the Savannah Highway, we could head north on Davidson and hit County Line Road.”
“Then what?” Drayton asked.
“Then nothing. We’re in Bear Swamp at the mercy of…water and muck and trees and…various reptiles?” Theodosia eyed the map again. “This Fishburne Creek that flows through the swamp, hopefully it hasn’t spilled its banks from all the rain we’ve had.”
“Speaking of which,” Drayton said as a few fat, wet drops plopped down on the windshield. Then the drops turned to rivulets as the intensity increased.
“Oh joy,” Theodosia said.
* * *
They headed for Bear Swamp, driving through the dark night, the windshield wipers keeping up a steady whap-whap , the defroster puffing out air to keep everything from fogging up. Tires hissed off wet pavement as they passed small farms, open fields, wooded areas, and several large swamps that edged right up to the narrow two-lane blacktop road they were following. And once they’d driven through the small village of Red Top and left its few comforting lights behind, they found themselves in the middle of nowhere.
Theodosia slowed down. “Where are we?”
“On the fringes of Bear Swamp, I imagine,” Drayton said.
They continued down a winding road that had once been paved in asphalt but was now reduced to bits and crumbles. Then they crossed a narrow wooden bridge, the boards rumbling and cracking precariously beneath their tires. At which point the road basically petered out to a rutted trail of mud and smooshed-down grass.
“Jamie couldn’t be out here,” Theodosia muttered to herself as she drove on. “This must be somebody’s idea of a dirty trick.”
“Don’t know,” Drayton said as they came to a fork in the so-called road. Trees closed in, rain sluiced down harder, and lightning flashed on the horizon like bursts of cannon fire in an old World War II movie.
“That does it, we’re lost,” Theodosia said as she stopped her Jeep, water ponding all around them. “This has to be the most forlorn spot in the low country. In all of the universe. I don’t…I’m not sure now what to do.” She touched a hand to her chest to try and quiet her thumping heart, then tilted her head back to rest her throbbing neck muscles.
Ding.
“What?” Theodosia said.
“Excuse me,” Drayton said. “But I’m fairly sure you just received another text message.”
Wearily, Theodosia looked down at the screen, then jerked in shock. Because what she saw horrified her and made her stomach lurch. Someone had sent her a grainy photo of Jamie. But it wasn’t like anything she’d seen before. Jamie was laid out flat on some kind of conveyor belt, his body bound with thick ropes. His eyes were half-closed and his face wore a deathly pallor.
“Look at this, Drayton!” Theodosia’s voice shook with emotion. In fact, her entire body was starting to shake.
Drayton gazed at the image on the screen. “Jeepers!” he cried, his voice cracking as it rose on an upward trajectory. “That’s Jamie?”
Blinking back tears, Theodosia said, “Someone’s holding Jamie prisoner and I don’t know what to do. Which way to go.”
“Take the left path,” Drayton said without hesitation.
“Um, right, because now we really do have to find him,” Theodosia mumbled, almost buckling under the stress.
“No, left,” Drayton said.
Theodosia sniffled, trying to pull herself together. “Left. Okay, got it.” She gripped her steering wheel hard, then started rolling ahead. “You have a feeling about this?”
“I have a twinkle.”
“Is that anything like an insight?” Theodosia asked.
“No, it’s merely a twinkle. My uncle Alfred had the gift and so did my grandnana. Well, maybe not a gift per se, more of a quirk. In any case, they both had strong feelings about what might happen, what could happen.”
“So what’s going to happen to us?” Theodosia asked. The driving was perilous, and she had to focus extra hard on keeping her vehicle in the ruts.
“I don’t know. Tune in tomorrow.”
“That’s a weird thing to say for a guy who detests television.” Theodosia knew she was chattering nervously, but she couldn’t help it.
“Only ninety-five percent of the programming,” Drayton pointed out, which brought a faint smile to Theodosia’s face.
They drove another half mile or so, with swampland on both sides of the rutted lane. When lightning flashed, they could see stark outlines of tupelo and black oak trees standing in briny, dark water. Finally, they came to an impasse that jolted them to a stop. A pile of fallen logs.
“There can’t possibly be a sawmill out here,” Theodosia said. If it hadn’t been for that awful photo of Jamie, she would have been ready to turn around.
“An enormous pine forest once stood here, and there’s a railway nearby,” Drayton said. “So it is entirely possible.”
“A forest and a railroad,” she murmured. “You’re sure about that?”
“Fairly sure.”
“So maybe…” Theodosia opened the door and leaned out. “At least the rain’s starting to let up.”
“And there’s a path up ahead,” Drayton said. “See?”
“Maybe.” Theodosia could sort of make it out.
“We’re here, we should give it a shot,” Drayton said. “Even though my shoes are already half-ruined…”
“And we’re chilled to the bone,” Theodosia said. “So what’s a little more suffering?”
They climbed out of the Jeep and started walking. But it was tough going. The path was soggy and the underbrush thick and imposing. It was constant bushwhacking without benefit of a machete. Frogs croaked in a low-country symphony, and Theodosia was sure that, between rumbles of thunder, she could hear the distinctive grunt of an alligator.
But they kept moving, vines tugging relentlessly at their ankles, wet leaves slapping their faces. It was dark, scary, and beyond uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Theodosia hunched her shoulders and came to a dead stop.
“What?” Drayton asked as he peered around, his eyes scouring the dark woods. “Did you see something?”
“No, I thought I…smelled something.”
“Probably wood rot from all these dead trees.”
“For a moment it smelled like someone was baking cookies.”
“Out here?” Drayton let loose a sharp laugh. “That’s rich.” He took a step forward, caught his foot on a gnarled root, and stumbled. Caught himself just before he catapulted into a muddy ditch.
“You okay?” Theodosia asked as she grabbed his arm.
“I think so,” Drayton said as an owl hooted overhead.
Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Theodosia’s phone started to ring. The owl immediately stopped hooting as Theodosia, fearful of who this caller might be, swallowed a gulp of air and answered, “Yes?”
“Theodosia? Theodosia Browning?”
“That’s right.” Theodosia frowned as she pushed a hunk of damp hair off her forehead. She didn’t recognize the voice.
“This is Karl Rueff. I got a message to call you.”
“Karl Rueff,” Theodosia said, excitement and a small amount of relief coloring her voice. “Thank you for returning my call.”
“What do you want?” Rueff asked. He sounded both hurried and bored. “Do we know each other?”
“Not exactly,” Theodosia said. “But I have a question for you. This is going to sound convoluted and strange, but someone who works at Milne and Kerrison Public Relations told me you had a major story killed last year?”
There was silence for a few moments, then Rueff said, “What?” in a querulous tone.
“I’m talking about your AI program. Supposedly, there were too many bugs in it to launch, so you told your PR firm to put a damper on all press and publicity.”
“I don’t know who told you this—in fact I’d like to know who it was—but your information is completely mixed up.”
“How so? I don’t understand,” Theodosia said.
“That AI program was a solid hit for Bluestone. Before we’d even beta tested it, we got a nibble from Wyndmere in Palo Alto and ended up selling it to them for two hundred million.”
“So the AI wasn’t a dud?” Theodosia looked at Drayton, surprise and confusion etched on her face. Drayton gave an offhand shrug.
“If you call two hundred million dollars a dud, then sure.” Rueff paused long enough for Theodosia to hear background sounds, hollow-sounding PA announcements that told her he must be at an airport. “They’re calling my plane,” Rueff said. “Gotta go.”
“Thank you,” Theodosia said, but he’d already hung up.
“That was Karl Rueff?” Drayton asked.
“Yes, and he just told me the strangest thing. A complete and total contradiction from what Babs told me.”
Drayton shook his head, looking a little lost. “What do you mean?”
“Babs told me that her PR company engineered a kill story on a software product that Rueff’s company developed. Something to do with AI that turned out to be a total flop.”
“So?”
“Rueff just told me they sold the software to a firm in Palo Alto for two hundred million dollars.”
“Sounds like one of them is lying big-time.”
“And somehow I got the feeling it wasn’t Karl Rueff,” Theodosia said. “Especially since his story can be easily fact-checked.”
“Why would Babs lie?” Drayton asked.
“I don’t…,” Theodosia started to say. And that’s when she definitely got a whiff of perfume.