Silent Protector (9 page)

Ian glanced down and leaped back. Beside the bag she’d dropped to the floor lay a snake—not just an ordinary one but a thick-bodied one about three feet in length and dark in color.

It was a water moccasin, its mouth open wide and ready to strike.

L
iz watched in horror. She worked at a wildlife refuge and had developed a healthy respect for animal predators. She knew this one was exercising its predatory skills very well.

“Stay still, Ian! It’s ready to strike.”

Ian stood stock-still. “I can see that.”

“And I’d say it’s probably poisonous, too.”

“Oh, yes. It’s a water moccasin, like the tow truck driver was talking about.”

Her stomach churned. “It must have come in with my stuff.” She felt herself go weak and pale and gripped the counter to keep from fainting and toppling over at the thought she’d toted it back from the car. She should have shaken out the bag even after digging out the things that needed to dry. “To think, I could have been bitten…”

Ian took a small step backward, one barely noticeable. “Has it moved any?”

She shook her head. “No. I picked the bag up, and I was ready to put my things in but gave it a shake to open it. That’s when the snake fell out.”

Ian backed up another small step. Liz watched the snake intently. It didn’t move. Apart from slithering a little bit when it fell to the floor, it hadn’t moved at all. But its mouth
gaped open, revealing a white interior as it tipped its head back. She looked up at Ian, who had taken yet another step back. Still the snake did not move. “See? It hasn’t moved at all.”

Ian frowned. “Something’s wrong.”

She let out a derisive snort. “Apart from the fact I had a huge poisonous snake in my bag? Whatever could it be?”

He ignored her biting sarcasm. He looked up from the snake. “I mean, that thing should be acting a lot more aggressively than it is.”

“Really? All I noticed was a wide-open mouth and fangs. Then I jumped up here.”

He quirked up a smile. “In one leap?”

“Yeah, no rebound board needed.” She blew out a sigh. “But you’re right. Something’s wrong with it. It’s not moving.”

He reached behind him for the door and opened it gently. “I’ll be back. Don’t get down.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

He eased out of the restroom and ran into his office. In the key press, he found the key he was looking for and quickly hurried back to the storage closet. There, he found the tent bag, dumped it and grabbed the longest pole. After grabbing the ax from the rest of the camping gear, he returned to the restroom.

“What took you so long?”

“I needed these. Did it move?”

“No, thankfully.”

He maneuvered the pole over the snake’s head and lowered it down. The snake moved its head with odd slowness, as if drugged. But still it did not strike. The tongue flicked only once.

He looked up at her, his gaze calm, reassuring with a gentle hint of a smile as he nodded. “Ready?”

“For what?”

“Watch.” As fast as he could, he slammed the pole down on the snake’s neck and stepped on the length of graphite to pin the snake. It thrashed its tail briefly, but still, it didn’t move.

Swinging the ax down, Ian cut off the snake’s head. The harsh ring of metal hitting ceramic tile bounced around the quiet room.

Liz pointed to the bag nearby. “Okay, now shake that bag to make sure he didn’t bring a friend.”

With the pole, Ian lifted the mouth of the bag. “There’s nothing in there.”

She blew out a heavy sigh. She shifted her feet over the edge of the counter, then gingerly jumped down, feeling the ache of staying in an awkward position, especially after the bit of whiplash she thought she might have received from the car accident. “That tow truck driver was right to be concerned about snakes. Imagine it swimming into my bag.” She shivered again.

Ian walked out and then returned with latex gloves and a large, clear plastic bag. He stooped to lift the snake’s body by the tail. He avoided the head for the moment, knowing that it could still bite, even after decapitation. The body didn’t readily lift up.

“It’s stuck to the floor,” he said.

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. It must have stuck to your bag, too.”

“I flapped the bag several times to open it. That must have loosened it. But why would it stick to things?”

Ian didn’t answer her but rather examined the underbelly of the snake, tapping the scales experimentally. “There’s glue on it.”

“Glue? Whatever for?”

“I’m not an expert, but I think this snake was half dead when it fell to the floor.”

“How is that possible? I mean, it would have had to swim into my bag.” She thought again of how Ian had saved her from drowning. The sloppy, soft bottom of the inlet took its time absorbing her car, but shock and hitting her head on the steering wheel had caused her to lose consciousness, however briefly. She could have easily stayed underwater without Ian’s help.

“No, water moccasins come out of the water a lot. That’s why we have…” His voice faded. “Traps under the rec center!”

She peered at him, and after flicking the head of the snake into the plastic bag with the toe of his boot and tying the bag closed, he straightened. “I have to check something out. Let me use that flashlight you brought with you.”

She handed it to him, then followed him out of the restroom and outside. He walked briskly around to the side facing the forest. He shone the light along the edge and stopped its beam halfway down. With the tent pole, he thrashed the thin layer of light-colored sand, sweeping the pole under the building slightly.

Then, on his knees, he peered under the building. A moment later, he reached in and pulled out a long board.

“What is it?”

“A homemade snake trap. It’s just a simple device, really, but they can be very effective. You take a long board, smear a slow-drying contact cement on it and lay it down where you think the snakes will pass.”

“They have mouse traps like that, too.” Liz stared at the board. “Do you think this is where the snake came from?”

“Yes. See the mark it left? Even bits of scales. There was a snake here about the same size and thickness as the snake we have inside.”

She stepped back furtively. “How could it have slithered in, then?”

“It didn’t. Someone brought it in and put it into your bag. That’s why the snake was nearly dead. It could have been here for some time.”

She swallowed. “That guy who ran me off the road really wants me dead, doesn’t he? He didn’t drown me, so he’s decided to poison me.”

“Did you get a good look at the guy?”

“No. The windows were tinted, and the sun was in my eyes.”

Ian slid the trap back into place. “Well, I don’t think this was done by the same guy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I believe the guy who wants you dead is William Smith, and he really only wants to tie up his loose ends, like Charlie. He doesn’t want Charlie to identify him. Running you off the road removed the chance that you would be taking him away.”

“So what? He still could have done this.”

“But how would he know about this trap? It’s been here for a while.” He set the trap back in place then stood and brushed his knees off. “No, I’ve read his profile. This doesn’t feel like Smith’s style.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “So if you don’t think it was him, who knows about these snake traps, and why would they want to kill me?”

“Everyone in the village knows about these traps. At our last community meeting, George suggested them because
we didn’t want the resort forcing these snakes out of their habitat and into ours. It’s an old method of trapping them, and the old couple who owns the store helped set them.”

She didn’t know what to say. And she didn’t feel like standing out here batting around ideas all evening. Her gaze wandered to the trailhead. She’d seen two men talking out there, and now, something niggled at her.

What was it? Who else would want to kill her? And why?

Ian touched her back, startling her. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be out here. Let’s get your stuff, and I’ll walk you back to the Wilsons’.”

They walked inside, Liz rubbing her arms all the way, feeling cold despite the sultry evening.

Ian studied Liz when she returned from gathering her things. He stood near the front door waiting for her, after she’d turned down his offer to come into the ladies’ room with her.

Concern deepened her frown, and he saw her swallow. She was pretty, regardless of her expression, but she looked downright attractive right now, with her lips parted and moist from wetting them several times in the last few minutes.

Even though he’d set his personal life on hold while he helped Moss Point, she had an allure that made him want to protect her from all the ugliness in the world.

She blinked sky-blue eyes at him. “How does William Smith know where Charlie is?”

He sighed. “I’ve given that some thought. Perhaps by following you or tapping your phone line.” Ian threw a glance at his office door. He’d locked it all up tight and shut everything off. What would he find if he went in there
now? Or tomorrow morning? “I need to call my supervisor with an update. He may be able to tell us after he sends an agent to check out your house.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Charlie told you that he’d thought you weren’t coming because it took you so long to get here. Was your flight schedule done on the computer?”

“Yes. I printed it out for my neighbor. It took me all night to organize the flights alone, and it felt like forever getting down here. There were delays all down the eastern seaboard because of thunderstorms. I could have driven here sooner, but by the time I realized that we were landing in Fort Myers.”

Lots of time for Smith to arrive. “Well, I’ll learn more after your house is checked out. There could be information on your computer that would indicate you’ve had someone looking at it. Do you still have your house keys?”

“Yes. I’d had them in a zippered pocket in my toiletries bag. But it may be easier for the police to ask my neighbor. I gave her a key so she could take in my mail. I can call her and ask her to give it to them.” She held up her bag dejectedly. “Of course, I’ll have to use someone else’s phone. Mine appears to have died.”

“It’s late. You can call from the Wilsons’ first thing in the morning. And on that subject, let’s not say anything right now about the snake, okay?”

“Fine by me. The sooner I forget it, the better I’ll feel.” Looking suddenly tired, Liz exhaled loudly. They had reached the Wilsons’ house, and shortly after he saw her inside, he left.

The next morning, after grabbing a quick breakfast and calling his supervisor, Ian walked over to the Wilsons’. He needed to tell Liz what he’d found out about her house.

He stood in the doorway, watching Liz finish washing the dishes. She turned and smiled a brief greeting at him. But her eyes looked hollow. All of the events of last night were weighing on her. Heavily.

Charlie asked to throw toast crusts and crumbs out to Joseph, who had stopped by. With the boys, Liz walked out on the deck to watch them toss the treats up in the air. Joseph perched high above them, cocking his head at them in interest. In the distance, they could hear Poco again.

At the sound of his dog barking, Stephen dropped his crusts and galloped down the steps, calling the dog’s name. Ian walked up beside Liz on the deck to watch Charlie continue his fun.

Charlie stopped throwing crusts. “Auntie Liz, Stephen says there’s buried treasure on this island.”

Liz offered her nephew an indulgent smile. “Buried by pirates, I assume?”

“Nope. He says—”

A yell and a sharp bark interrupted his thoughts. Ian turned to see Poco dance angrily around the Callahan boy, his tail high and stiff, the hair on his back standing up. Something lay at the animal’s feet. Something the dog refused to relinquish.

The boy reached down, but the dog defended its prize with a warning snap of sharp teeth. Stephen jumped back.

Liz walked to the edge of the steps. Poco turned and bit down on something long and black, then shook it with a wild thrash.

“It looks like a snake! This is awful! It’s just like last night!” Liz cried, her voice tight as she started down the steps. “That boy shouldn’t be so close!”

Ian pulled her back. Then after leaping off the deck, he tore over to where Stephen lingered. There, he yanked the boy away from the dog. “Get back, Stephen!”

The boy obeyed him, but Poco growled and bared his teeth. Ian spoke sharply to the mutt, who, recognizing his authority, dropped his prize and his tail before backing away.

It wasn’t a snake he was defending, Ian noted as he picked it up. It wasn’t even a meal.

It was a stretch of a narrow web belt, complete with gun holster. And smeared with something other than the dog’s saliva.

Ian turned his palm upward, then looked at the defensive dog and the stains that had transferred to its scruffy beard.

The belt was soaked in blood.

L
iz took a hesitant step onto the crushed shell path. She could tell immediately by Ian’s body language that something was seriously wrong. When Ian glanced her way, his face slack with shock and his hands smudged dark red, she trotted down the path to the dirt road. Ian stood at the far side, in front of the Callahan house and shaded by the spreading, moss-covered live oak.

The dog near him stood up and growled when she approached, but Ian yelled out, “Scram, Poco! Home!”

Head down and tail between its legs, the dog scampered a few feet away, then turned to watch the fate of its prize.

It wasn’t a snake. For that, Liz was grateful, but whatever it was, it was leaving rust-colored smears on Ian’s hands.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s on your hands?”

Ian looked around, forcing Liz to scan their surroundings as well. A young woman with a little girl hurried from a small house nestled deep under the far trees. Liz could hear George approaching behind her, and she turned in time to see a deep frown darkening his leathery features.

Beyond, several women and one man closed in. The whole village seemed to have heard the commotion and came to discover the cause. The man asked something, but she didn’t catch it.

Ian spoke to the boy. “Go home, Stephen. Go wash your hands thoroughly, like we taught you in Vacation Bible School when we talked about the flu.”

Confused, the boy retreated. Liz faced Ian as he examined the dog’s prize. “It looks like some kind of military belt. But what’s on it?”

“Blood, I’m afraid.”

She gasped. “Are you sure?”

“It looks like it.” He looked over his shoulder to George. “Can you get a plastic bag out of the container by my kitchen door? One of the big blue ones. The house is unlocked.”

George nodded and hurried into Ian’s tiny bungalow, only to return a moment later with the requested bag. He held it wide open while Ian dropped the belt into it. Blood smeared down the inside of the clear blue plastic.

“What are you going to do with it?” Liz asked.

“I’ll put it into the freezer for the time being,” Ian said, watching George tie the bag.

“Do you think it belongs to one of the villagers?”

“It’s a military style web belt with half of a holster attachment, Liz. There’s no one here who would need a handgun.”

“A holster?” she echoed. “Maybe it belongs to one of the resort’s security guards. Surely they would have someone on staff that’s armed.”

Ian shook his head. “Then why would it be soaked with blood?” He turned, and seeing the crowd forming, he spread out his hands. “Nothing left to see, folks. Go home. George and I will sort this out.”

He turned to Stephen’s mother. Remnants of the tape belonging to the police and fire department crisscrossed
her house. She’d heard from Elsie that the police had been back with the fire marshal and taken away more things and asked more questions.

“Jenny, tie that dog up,” Ian told the woman firmly. “If he’s been into something he shouldn’t have, he can’t be allowed to wander the village.”

Liz watched as Jenny Callahan grabbed the dog by its collar and led it around to the back of the house. Everyone else seemed to respect Ian’s command and began to filter away.

Even Monica, Liz noticed as she allowed her curious gaze to drift throughout the village. She’d spied the woman coming down the road, in from the direction of the rec center. Today, she wore a different dress, a faded blue one with cap sleeves, similar in style to another dress Liz had been loaned. She caught Liz’s stare and immediately turned away. Shock and fear showed clearly in the young woman’s expression. Liz watched her bite her lip and wring her hands.

In the next instant, the woman spun back in the direction she’d come, hurrying past the rec center. She glanced over her shoulder at the thinning crowd, then at the small store and its owners. She disappeared into the forest at the trailhead.

Liz stood cemented to the dirt road, watching to see if Monica would exit the trail again.

She didn’t. What was she up to?

Why hurry away? To find the rest of the belt? How would she know where it was?

Liz turned toward Ian as he and George were walking into his home, presumably to put the bag into the freezer. They weren’t looking back. They didn’t appear to notice Monica at all.

She looked over at the Wilsons’ tiny home. Elsie was herding both boys into the house. She’d assumed that Liz would go with Ian, and she’d keep the boys safe until they returned. She’d wash Stephen’s hands and probably use that order from Ian as an excuse to give both boys a good scrubbing down.

While Monica snuck away. To do what, in such a hurry?

If Liz called out to Ian, Monica might take off. And Liz was determined to ask her why she was so interested in Charlie.

Making a swift decision, Liz hurried down the dirt road, past several villagers as they dispersed. Breaking into a jog, she reached the trailhead seconds later. With a short glance at the quiet village behind her, she melted into it. That blood-smeared belt had scared Monica into action, and Liz was going to find out why. Because if it had something to do with Charlie, she needed to know. It
had
to do with Charlie. A bloodied gun belt appearing after two attempts on her life? Liz refused to believe in coincidences.

The forest was blessedly cooler. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. After that, she looked down at the ground. The trail was lined with hard-packed sand, like much of the island, and had been well used. It would be impossible to follow the woman’s footprints.

Liz peered through the trees as she crept through the forest. She was really only about twenty seconds behind Monica. How hard would it be to lose her?

Ahead, something moved. Liz felt her heart leap into her throat as she spotted a flurry of light blue ahead and another darker blue deeper in. She dashed forward, fighting the natural rhythm of her awkward flip-flops, the ones she’d saved from the car. Not only were they noisy but
running in them was nearly impossible. As soon as she returned to the Wilsons’ trailer, she would change to her lightweight sneakers.

Ahead, the trail forked, forcing Liz to stop. She looked up the right fork, through the drooping cabbage palms with their spiky fronds. Which way—

There! In front of her was Monica, on her hands and knees, digging frantically in the soft sandy soil.

Liz gasped, and immediately Monica spun around. She was on her feet a second later.

“Why are you following me?”

Liz jumped back at the aggressive stance. “I saw you leave in a hurry. It looked like something was wrong, so I followed you.”

“I’m fine. You should go back to the Wilson house.” She brushed off her hands. The front of her dress was messed with sand. “Or better still, go home, wherever that is. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I beg to differ with you,” Liz answered with a calm she didn’t feel.

Taking a bold step forward, Monica tilted her head. Instantly, Liz could feel the woman’s nervousness drenching the air between them even more than the humidity. Monica took another step forward.

Liz fought the urge to step back, to control her urge to flee. She’d learned years ago that she couldn’t show fear. Animals, even the raptors that were her specialty, could sense fear and use it to their advantage.

“Are you really Charlie’s aunt?” Monica barked out.

Hating herself in that instant, Liz took that step back. “Yes, his mother’s younger sister. Why do you ask?”

“Where is she?”

“She died a few years ago.” Liz felt her shoulder blades tighten together. Why was this woman so interested in Charlie?

“And Charlie’s father?” Monica asked. “What happened to him?”

“He’s also dead.” She straightened. “Tell me, Monica, did Charlie speak to you before I came?”

The woman seemed surprised by the question, and she relaxed slightly. “Why, no. He didn’t speak to anyone, not even Stephen. We all thought he was traumatized. That’s what Ian said. He said we needed to be patient.”

Liz wanted to tell her that he was none of Monica’s business, so she may as well just forget about him. She wanted to take a few steps forward and show Monica she could be tough, too.

But such aggressiveness wasn’t in her nature, regardless of how much she’d stood up to Ian.

Suddenly, she wanted him there beside her, as close as he’d been when he’d embraced her. “Charlie was doing what he thought was best and not saying too much. He’s like that sometimes.”

“I wonder who taught him that.” Monica’s expression turned hooded. “We all do what we think is best, don’t we?”

The hairs on Liz’s neck rose. Just how much did this woman know? Liz wondered. Was she the person who had accessed Charlie’s file on Ian’s computer?

Monica took a step closer, forcing Liz to lock her knees to stop herself from moving back again. “What do you think you can get out of him? Money? Welfare? That’s not going to happen. We all need money!” She spat out that last word.

Liz swallowed a dry knot in her throat. She clenched her jaw to control the sudden surge of anger. There was no way ever that she would allow Monica near the boy.

No way ever.
She opened her eyes. She drilled a hard stare at her. “Is there something you need to say? What’s going on? Why are you so interested in Charlie? I know what you did with Ian’s computer and I—”

Immediately, Monica lunged at her.