Chapter 28
Michael waited in the dark. He sat on Erik Andersen’s leather sofa, facing the front door. It was the same sofa where Michael
saw a girl’s backpack on an earlier visit. He thought he smelled perfume, but that was probably just his imagination. Had
Jess ever sat on this sofa while Andersen eyed her with a predatory smile?
Michael grimaced. Jess should have talked to him before she ever got involved with Andersen. He would have warned her off—and
beaten some sense into her if necessary. What could she possibly have been thinking?
Andersen’s thoughts, on the other hand, were obvious. He had been an ambitious young professor. Jess was a beautiful and brilliant
young woman with connections to both the Legares and the Willards. Andersen figured he could milk those connections for all
they were worth. He planned to use Jess as a stepping stone and abandon her whenever she ceased to be useful. But she’d abandoned
him first, after catching him with another female student.
Fresh anger swept over Michael, heightening his blood pressure—and his anticipation of what would happen tonight.
The door opened. Andersen walked in and clicked on the light.
He spotted Michael and froze. Before he could react, a masked man stepped from behind the door, put a gun to Andersen’s back, and shut and locked the door with his free hand.
He shoved Andersen in the small of the back, pushing him away from the door and creating some open space in case Andersen tried anything.
Michael smiled. The masked man was his second cousin, Jimbo Clayton. This was Jimbo’s first muscle job, and he was handling
it like a pro so far. Little Joe and Tommy used to do this sort of work, but they both died in a police raid a few months
ago.
Andersen licked his lips. “Mike, what’s going on?”
Michael stood. “Evening, Professor. Glad you’re alone tonight. That’ll make things easier.”
“What do you mean? Make what easier?” Andersen’s gaze slid to Michael’s hands. “Why are you wearing gloves?”
Michael reached behind the sofa and pulled out a suitcase he’d found in Andersen’s closet. “You’re going to disappear again.”
Andersen relaxed slightly. “Okay. Do you mind telling me why?”
“You talk too much and to the wrong people.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Michael frowned. “You also lie too much. I know about your conversation with Hez Webster. And I know you’re scheduled to meet
with the DA tomorrow.”
Andersen gulped and turned pale.
“So you’re going to disappear again,” Michael continued. “At least until the adoption hearing is over. And you’re not going
to talk to the DA. Ever.”
Andersen nodded. “Okay, sure. I’ll leave now.”
Michael walked toward the garage door, pulling the suitcase. “We’re going to escort you out of town.”
Jimbo took the phone from Andersen’s hand and tossed it to the floor. “You won’t need that tonight.” He nudged Andersen toward
the door with the barrel of his gun. “Get in the back seat.”
Andersen climbed into the back of his own car, followed by Jimbo. Michael put the suitcase in the trunk, opened the garage
door, and got behind the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Keep your hands in your lap. If you touch the door handle,
you’ll die. Understand?”
Andersen moved away from the door and clasped his hands in his lap. “Got it.”
The Mercedes purred as Michael pulled out of the garage. He drove through the countryside, avoiding towns and making sure
to stay under the speed limit and follow all traffic rules.
They entered Gum Swamp. The night was chilly, and patchy fog filled low spots and sent streamers of mist across the road.
Michael broke the silence in the car. “Do you like poetry, Professor?”
Andersen stirred. “What?”
“Poetry. Do you like it?”
“Uh, sure.”
Michael cleared his throat and recited:
Because I could not stop for Death–
He kindly stopped for me–
The Carriage held but just Ourselves–
And Immortality.
We slowly drove–He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility–
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess–in the Ring–
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain–
We passed the Setting Sun–
Or rather–He passed Us–
The Dews drew quivering and Chill–
For only Gossamer, my Gown–
My Tippet–only Tulle–
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground–
The Roof was scarcely visible–
The Cornice–in the Ground–
He broke off as a black pickup truck loomed out of the darkness on the side of the road. Michael pulled up behind it and parked.
Jimbo opened his door and got out, keeping his gun trained on Andersen.
Michael turned to Andersen, who was pale and sweating. “Get out.”
“W-what are you going to do to me?”
“It will be worse if you don’t get out now.”
Andersen opened his door with a shaking hand. He launched himself out of the car and ran into the swamp, splashing and stumbling.
Jimbo was ready. He fired two quick shots. Andersen stumbled and fell face down in the shallow water. He didn’t move.
Michael watched with satisfaction as Jimbo picked up the shell casings without needing to be told. “Strip the body and stake
it someplace the gators will find it. Burn the clothes and the suitcase. Leave the car near the Greyhound terminal. I’ll pick
you up there in an hour.”
Jimbo nodded and got to work. Michael climbed into his pickup and started the engine. He smiled as he drove off and finished
the Emily Dickinson poem:
Since then–’tis Centuries–and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity–
“Look at the bream I caught in the pond, Uncle Hez!” Simon turned his phone around to face the Zoom screen on the laptop in
Savannah’s office. He flipped through pictures of fish. “Pawpaw let me fillet my fish all by myself.” He extended his left
index finger. “I only cut myself in one tiny place, and it only bled a minute.”
This was news to Savannah, who sat beside him, but she resisted the temptation to peel back the sticky bandage and examine the wound. With Michael giving Simon adult chores, her nephew wouldn’t appreciate being made to feel like a little boy. Why did the man have to make things so hard?
Her face ached from the fake smile she kept pinned in place. Simon’s constant praise for everything Willard hurt her heart.
How did she coax him back into the fold of this family? Michael had an insidious way of pulling the unwary into his orbit,
and she would do anything to keep Simon from ending up like Little Joe.
Hez shot her a glance of commiseration but maintained his smile. “Nice catch. Did you fry it up too?” He appeared relaxed
in shorts and a blue tee that brought out the color of his eyes. Mobile Bay was in the background from his spot on the back
patio of their house.
“Mimi and Tammy did the cooking.” Simon puffed out his chest. “But Pawpaw said they were the best fish he’d ever eaten. I
ate two plates full. Mimi’s homemade lemonade was even better than LuLu’s.”
That was saying a lot since Simon loved everything at LuLu’s. The restaurant was owned by Jimmy Buffett’s sister and was an
icon in the Gulf Shores area.
Simon swiped his phone again. “And look at this, Uncle Hez—we found an old still behind one of the shacks me and my cousins
have been using as a hideout.” He turned the phone around again proudly. “We’re going to build a raft and take it out on the
pond.”
Savannah tensed. “How deep is the water?”
“I don’t know. I’m not going to swim in the pond, Aunt Savannah. I’ll just push a raft across it with a pole. I’ll be fine.”
He hadn’t been in the ocean since the near drowning. She pressed her lips together. “Did you get your homework done while
you were there?”
The excitement left Simon’s expression “Uh, no. I didn’t have time.”
“Better get to it then. You’ve got three hours before bedtime. I know it’s very exciting to be with your cousins, but school
is important.” A confrontation with Michael might be in her future.
“Fine.” He got up in a huff and stomped down the hall to his bedroom.
Savannah exhaled. “How do we combat Michael’s influence, Hez? I don’t know what to do. He needs your influence, not that of the Willards. I hate that you can’t be with us. I miss you.”
“I miss you even more. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy by working on the house, but the minutes go by way too slowly.”
His expression on the screen went somber. “I can’t go into details, babe, but the pressure on Michael is about to go way up.
He’s already unpredictable, so be prepared for him to react poorly.”
React poorly? “What does that mean?”
“I can’t say more, but he could lash out. I want you to be careful.”
Unease rippled down her spine. She already felt like her neck was a swivel. Anytime a strange car drove past her cottage or
she heard the squeal of tires, she tensed. “I wish you’d tell me what you know. Did you do something to him?”
The doorbell rang before Hez could answer. She started to get up, but Simon came out of his room and ran past the office door
on his way to the entry. “I’ll get it,” he called.
“Wait, Simon!” She leaped up to try to intercept him, but he threw open the door and stepped onto the porch. She raced after him and found him holding a manila envelope.
No one else was on the porch and no cars were in the cottage’s driveway or parked on the street. She smelled freshly cut grass,
not the odor of gasoline. Was someone hiding alongside the house in the bushes? She grabbed Simon’s shoulder and pushed him
back inside.
“It’s addressed to you.” Simon handed it to her.
She took it gingerly. “Thanks, Simon. You can get back to your schoolwork now.”
He eyed the envelope with curiosity but retreated to his room.
Savannah locked the door and carried the envelope to her office. She held it up for Hez to see. “No one was out there. No
cars, no pedestrians. Someone dropped it and ran.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he said. “I should come get it.”
“I don’t like it either.” She studied her name in block letters. “I’m going to open it.”
The envelope wasn’t sealed, just closed with the metal clasp. She straightened the flattened clasp and lifted the flap to
draw out the contents. “There are two pages.” She studied the top one. “The first is a prisoner record for an inmate in Louisiana.
Francois Dubois.” She turned the paper around to face the camera on her computer so Hez could see. “Could he be related to
Martine?”
He frowned and leaned closer, then shrugged. “It’s possible. What’s the other document?”
“It’s a handwritten note in a foreign language—French, I think. I can’t pronounce it.” She held it up to the camera.
He squinted and leaned close to the screen. “‘Papa, je te protégerai. Je ferai ce qu’ils veulent.’ My French isn’t great, but I think it means ‘Papa, I’ll protect you. I’ll do whatever they want.’”
“Papa! I’ll bet Francois is Martine’s dad. Can you find out? Maybe Hope could tell you.”
“It would make sense. Maybe Martine set me up to save her father. Snap a picture of the documents and email them to me. I’ll
send them to Hope. The big question is, who dropped them at your door?”
She took in the block letters on the manila envelope. “I—I think maybe it was Nora. She promised to help me find Martine.”
“But Nora’s in jail.”
“She still has friends in the police department.” Savannah leaned forward and stared into the camera, willing Hez to see how
much this meant to her. If they were together in person, she knew she could convince him. “She should get bail on Monday,
right?”
“Probably. She’s charged with a felony, so it won’t be low.”
“She hardly has any money. It’s not fair that she’ll be stuck in jail just because she’s poor.”
The furrow on his brow deepened. “Babe, I see where your thoughts are going. Bailing her out won’t be cheap. We’ve dropped
most of our savings on the down payment for the house and even more on renovations. I’m estimating bail might be as much as
fifteen grand.”
She winced, but the cost didn’t sway her. “We’ve got that much in our wedding fund. We’ll get it back at trial, right?”
“If she shows up.”
“She will.” Her fingers touched the bracelet on her wrist. “I’m sure she sent this information. I can’t stand by and let her rot in jail for something I don’t think she would do.”
He sighed. “I won’t fight you on this. We can get a home-equity loan for the wedding if we have to.”
She made a kissing sound in the air. “I wish you were here so I could thank you properly.”
The tension left his face when he smiled and touched the screen as if he were touching her lips. “Me too, babe, me too. It’s
going to be a long weekend without you.”