“Did you see which way it went?’’
He aimed the tip of his pole to the west. “Straight ahead, along the course of the creek. I remember, ’cause I was walking ’long side of the road, right there.’’ He pointed the pole again. “They flew by me, so close I could see the look on the face of the white lady in the passenger side. Real little lady. She looked scared, like she thought they was gonna hit me.’’
“Did you notice anything else unusual?’’
“I remember wondering why she was only wearing one of them round earbobs.’’
I thanked him and continued on my way. In another mile, a honeydew scarf waved from a fence alongside the road. I was on the right track.
Just before the intersection with State Road 70, a woman stood on the roadside at the back end of an old blue van. Cardboard boxes and a metal contraption that looked like a coat rack sat around her on the grassy swale. She bent into the back to pull out a folding card table and a chair. Coming alongside, I read the sign on the van’s left paneclass="underline" Wendi’s Whirligigs.
By the time I stopped and backed up, she’d put up her table and started arranging her wares. She sold airplanes and birds fashioned from old beer cans.
“Are you Wendi?’’ I asked, shifting Pam’s car into neutral.
She nodded, but didn’t look at me. She hung her whirligigs from the coat rack, hoping to catch the eye of passing motorists. I asked about the truck.
“Might have seen something.’’ Her head was down, orange spiky hair pointing to a flock of beer-can birds she was arranging on the table. “I’ve been busy. I have a lot of these here crafts to sell. Business is awful slow in the summer.’’ She finally looked at me. “Awful slow.’’
Highway extortion. I searched for my purse on the seat and floorboards. It wasn’t there. But I saw it in my mind—just where I’d left it on a chair at the VFW. My wallet was inside. Even worse, so was my phone.
“Look, I’m in trouble,’’ I told Wendi. “My mama’s been kidnapped. I need to know which way that truck was headed.’’
The hard line of her mouth softened, making her almost pretty. “I thought there was something off about those two gals. Love affair gone bad, right? I been there.’’
“Yes, that was it,’’ I agreed, desperate for her help even if it was under false pretenses.
“Was that your mama in the passenger seat? The one with the platinum hair?’’
I nodded.
“Pretty, for an older gal. They were heading west. Your mama looked right at me as they passed, about ten minutes ago. She was yelling out the window, ‘Park, park, park!’ It didn’t make sense. I already was parked. But that’s all I heard before the truck blew by.’’
“You notice anything else?’’
“There were crushed beer cans in the back.’’ She pulled a cigarette from behind her ear; lit it. “It’s a shame people smash them. A good can is the foundation of my business.’’
“Thanks, Wendi,’’ I shifted into gear and let out the clutch, as a cigarette-smoke cloud drifted my way. “If I get her out of this mess, we’ll be back to buy a six-pack of whirligigs.’’
“Good luck,’’ Wendi called out as I pulled onto the road.
What could Mama have meant? I tried to concentrate, but kept getting a picture in my mind of work boots. I’d seen mine sitting on the floorboard in the back when I was searching for my purse. I glanced over my shoulder at the heavy boots.
Suddenly, I knew exactly where Mama’s captor had taken her.
Himmarshee Park doesn’t open on Saturday morning until ten, giving the kidnapper plenty of time to … I couldn’t bear to finish the thought. I didn’t want to imagine what the murderer had planned in my workplace for my mama.
The slats on the wooden bridge vibrated under the VW’s tires. I spotted a honeydew-colored shoe just beyond the rise of the little span. It was the mate to a heeled pump I’d seen in the middle of the street just before the turn-off to the park.
The woods were eerily still. No birds called. No animals rustled through brush. It was as if the humidity that already hung like a wet veil over the day had sucked out all the sound. Technically, we were closed. But all anyone who wanted in had to do was unhitch the steel cable that stretched across the road. The Do Not Enter sign would fall to the ground, and they could drive right through. Which is just what someone had done.
I turned off the car’s ignition and coasted across the downed cable. When tracking an animal, the quieter the better.
The white truck was pulled off ahead, blocking a nature path. There was no one inside. It was the pickup from Emma Jean’s yard. I stopped right behind it, blocking it in between a tree and the nose of Pam’s VW.
Kicking off my loafers, I quickly changed into the boots, lacing them tight around my ankles. Then, I started out running for the park’s office. I felt for the car keys in my pocket, glad that I’d thought to put my office key on Pam’s key ring where it wouldn’t be lost. The ground and foliage was still damp with morning moisture. Droplets wet my hair and splattered onto my shirt as I passed under the low, bushy fronds of Sabal palms.
It only took minutes to reach the building and unlock the door. But it felt like hours.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?’’
“This is Mace Bauer.’’ I kept my voice low, in case anyone was lurking nearby. “I’m calling from inside the office at Himmarshee Park.’’
I’d made many 911 calls from the park over the years: Broken bones. Heat exhaustion. Two fatal heart attacks for senior citizen visitors. I heard my own voice, calm and steady. Only I knew the fear I was barely keeping at bay.
I continued, “Please contact Detective Carlos Martinez with the Himmarshee Police. This is an extreme emergency. A woman’s life is at risk.’’
“Are you in danger, Ma’am?’’
“No, not at this moment. But my mother is. She’s been kidnapped, most likely by someone who’s killed before. She’s being held somewhere in the park. Please tell Detective Martinez to get here as soon as he can.’’
“Ma’am, you need to stay right where you are.’’ Urgency edged into her professional tone. “Stay put until we can get an officer out there. It won’t be long.’’
I glanced at my watch. Seven-forty on a weekend morning. The police roster would be sparse at that hour, and the park’s at least fifteen miles from town.