Southern Comforts (33 page)

“I can't believe this!” She pounded on the leather steering wheel. “This is a sixty thousand dollar car! And the battery goes dead?”

“It can happen,” Roxanne replied defensively.

“Shit.” Chelsea lowered her forehead to the wheel, closed her eyes and tried to think. They could go back into the cabin and try to hold Jo at gunpoint. But she was honestly exhausted and Jo's insane mania seemed to give her super endurance.

And although Roxanne was calculating and intelligent—
she'd certainly caught on fast when Chelsea had complained of a headache—she didn't want to put her life in this woman's hands, either. Because, if push came to shove, Chelsea knew that Roxanne would save Roxanne. And let her fend for herself.

She glared down at the broken phone. “We're going to have to walk out of here.”

“I'm not going to spend the night in some goddamn swamp with alligators and water moccasins and mosquitoes!”

“Fine. Then you stay here and take your chances with your precious baby daughter. I'm getting out while I still can. Besides, there's supposed to be a full moon tonight. That should help.”

“There's a toolbox in the trunk,” Roxanne said. “It should have a flashlight in it.”

Chelsea felt a renewed surge of hope. “That's better than nothing.”

The flashlight was a little aluminum Mini Maglite, small, but bright. She was relieved to find at least these batteries were working.

“Why don't you tie her up,” Roxanne suggested, still seeking a way to remain safely at the cabin.

“With what?”

“How should I know? A vine, perhaps?”

Chelsea glanced around. “You see any vines around here?”

“There must be some kudzu,” Roxanne insisted. “The damn stuff is practically overrunning the entire state.”

Before Chelsea could decide whether to risk taking time to look for the seeming ubiquitous vine, the door to the cabin flung open.

“Shit.” The opportunity for tying up Roxanne's mad daughter had obviously passed. “I forgot to pick up the
gun.” A shot rang out, whizzing past her ear, shattering the back windshield.

“Come on, dammit,” Chelsea shouted at Roxanne, who seemed frozen from fright.

Jo fired again, this time hitting the open trunk, jolting Roxanne into action as she followed Chelsea deeper into the swamp.

The sun had set in a blaze of fire over the swamp. As they headed out in the opposite direction, Chelsea prayed that the night would stay clear. The idea of being out here in the pitch-black dark was definitely less than appealing.

A bloodcurdling scream suddenly echoed across the black water.

“What was that?” Roxanne screamed in response.

“An animal,” Chelsea guessed.

“It sounded human.”

“It was a screech owl,” Chelsea, who'd spent most of her life in Manhattan, where the wildlife tended to have two legs, insisted. “I remember reading they can sound remarkably human. Like peacocks.”

“I've never heard that,” Roxanne argued.

“It's true.” Although her tone carried absolute conviction, Chelsea wondered who she was trying to fool. Roxanne, or herself?

For the first time since the nightmare began, she felt like breaking down and bawling her head off. But then the memory of her father suddenly flooded into her head. Her brave, cocky, hero father. If Dylan Cassidy could trudge through the jungles of Vietnam and emerge without a scratch, she could survive this.

Feeling as if she were literally following in her father's footsteps, Chelsea kept walking.

The night air was thick with the dank, cloying odor of rotting vegetation. Fireflies glowed, the marsh grass rustled
as small unseen animals moved through it. There was the nerve-racking sound of crickets all around them, the deep croaking of frogs, the occasional hoot of an owl. The wings of night birds moving from tree to tree whispered overhead.

In the beginning, Roxanne whimpered continually. Then, as if realizing she was only wasting emotional energy, she fell silent, trudging behind Chelsea, seeming more than willing to surrender the power that had once seemed to be so important to her.

Chelsea heard a sound like a log rolling into the water. She turned the flashlight toward the noise and jumped as she viewed the gleaming yellow eyes of an alligator gliding toward them across the water, his back broad and black as he passed by. Relieved that she wasn't a dinner target, Chelsea then gasped in horror as she watched him catch up to a swimming nutria and open his huge mouth. The sound of the furry animal's spine breaking was like a gunshot over the incessant chirp of crickets.

Chelsea glanced back over her shoulder to see if Roxanne had seen the wildlife drama. She had. Her eyes were wide and filled with the shock Chelsea herself was feeling. The two women exchanged a look and, having no choice, continued on.

 

“Where they hell are they?” Cash demanded, his frustration level rising with every minute the search continued.

“I'm sorry.” Dorothy, who'd yet to locate the cabin, was in tears now. Cash knew it was his gentlemanly duty to try and soothe her but right now he didn't feel much like a gentleman.

“It's a big swamp,” Joe Burke said unnecessarily. He reached over with his large hand and patted her knee. The comforting gesture only caused a renewed flood of tears.

Great, Cash thought grimly. This was just fucking great.

 

The full moon spread an unearthly white light over the land, a glow more eerie than comforting as it cast the trees in deep shadows that seemed even darker by contrast. It had begun to rain again, fat wet drops that soaked through her clothing and ran down her face. Chelsea was considering stopping and trying to find their way out in the morning.

“This is ridiculous,” Roxanne complained as she stumbled over yet another root. “Why can't we just rest until morning?”

Before Chelsea could answer, her flashlight focused on yet another alligator sitting on the opposite bank. While she watched, he lifted his head, arched his tail and bellowed. It was not a loud sound, but it shook her to the bones.

“I don't have any intention of becoming gator bait,” she said. “If we stop, we're sure to fall asleep.”

“We can take turns.”

“You might be willing to trust
me
with
your
life, Roxanne. But I have to tell you, I'm not that generous. Especially after you set me up for that fall off your staircase. No, it's too great a risk. We're going to keep walking because I don't have any intention of dying in this godforsaken place.”

Chelsea thought of all the things she had left to do in her life. Like marrying Cash. And having his baby. A baby she could be carrying even now.

She thought about how she wanted to explore the fledgling peace she seemed to have forged with her mother. And, despite the gravity of her situation, she smiled at the idea of breaking the news to Deidre Lowell that she was going to be a grandmother.

No, Chelsea vowed. There would be no dying here tonight.

Like Roxanne, she'd already fallen down too many times to count. Each time, she thought about the deadly water
moccasins undoubtedly hiding in the grass, remembered the gators, and instructed her wobbly legs to keep on moving.

Behind her, Roxanne was quietly sobbing again. A few minutes earlier, she'd become hysterical when a raccoon had run in front of her. Chelsea had had to slap her—hard—to quiet her screeching and prevent her from running away.

The flashlight's white beam had faded to yellow. The circle had narrowed considerably, and now the light was beginning to flicker. If it weren't for the moonlight streaming in through the tree branches, they'd be in total darkness.

Although she'd tried to remain optimistic, Chelsea felt her confidence sagging considerably. She was reminding herself that she'd never been a quitter, when she suddenly heard a familiar sound.

“Shut up!” she shouted at Roxanne. “Do you hear that?”

The other woman drew in a deep, gulping breath and managed to stop weeping. They both stood statue still, listening.

“It sounds like a motor,” Roxanne said. “Maybe a boat?”

“Not a boat.” Chelsea concentrated. “Oh, God, it's a helicopter!” She began looking up at the midnight black sky, waving her miserable excuse for a flashlight like a beacon.

 

Cash was the first to see the dim pinpoint of light. “Look at that,” he said, pointing down into the blackness, through the slanting rain.

“Could be St. Elmo's fire,” the sheriff said.

“It's too concentrated. It's a flashlight.” Relief rushed over him in blessed cooling waves as the pilot focused the spotlight downward. “It's them.”

“Seems to be,” Joe Burke drawled laconically. But Cash
could hear the repressed excitement in the sheriff's voice. “Got some place we can set this bird down, Danny?”

The pilot swept the spotlight around the area. “That clearing looks pretty safe.”

“There you go.” The sheriff gave Cash a look that suggested he'd never expected any other outcome. But both men knew exactly how close they'd come to tragedy.

 

The spotlight from the hovering helicopter was blinding. Chelsea shaded her eyes with one hand, while continuing to wave the flashlight with her other.

“They didn't see us,” Roxanne cried out as the copter rose again over the top of the trees. “They're leaving!”

For a fleeting, terrifying moment, Chelsea thought Roxanne might be right. “No,” she said, viewing the copter's descent, “they're just finding someplace to land.”

When she heard the sound of the rotor whipping the leaves in the trees edging the clearing, Chelsea began running toward the sound.

Cash leaped out of the open doorway and began running toward the place where he'd last seen Chelsea.

He'd come! She'd known he would! Giddy with joy and relief, Chelsea held out her arms.

Feeling like a crazed guy in a shampoo commercial, he lifted her off her feet, covering her wet face with kisses.

She was laughing and crying at the same time. “What kept you?”

“It's a long story.” Lord, she felt good! Cash wanted to hold on to her forever.

Oblivious to the others, they shared a long, heartfelt kiss that could have lasted minutes, hours or an eternity.

Heedless of the water streaming over them, Chelsea tilted her head back, smiling up into his wonderful, handsome
face. “I do hope this doesn't become a habit. Because I'll be very annoyed if you're late for our wedding.”

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be there on time. With bells on.”

“That's not exactly the morning coat my mother would undoubtedly prefer the groom to wear,” she said. “But it definitely has possibilities.”

He kissed her again. Harder. Deeper. With all the pent-up emotion swelling in his heart. With all the love in his soul. She kissed him back as they gained strength from each other. Finally, Cash lifted his head.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?”

“Probably about as worried as I was about myself.”

“More.” He kissed her again.

“It was Jo,” Chelsea told him when them came back up for air.

“I know. We found her body.” Cash's smile faded at the memory. “It looked like she stumbled into a nest of water moccasins not far from the cabin.”

When she wasn't as shocked as she might have been, Chelsea realized she'd known that all along. Obviously Roxanne had been right about that night-piercing scream belonging to a human.

She shuddered. “That's so sad.”

“Not as sad as what she probably would have done to you.” His arms tightened around her at the idea.

“She was Roxanne's daughter.”

“I know. I saw your notes. I only skimmed the top page, but I got the gist from that.”

“It's a terribly tragic story.” Chelsea sighed. “But at least I've found an ending for my novel.”

His laugh was rough and harsh with pure relief. “There you go.” Then he kissed her again because it had been too long. “Let's go home.”

“Oh, I'd like that.”

As they walked together back toward the helicopter, Chelsea's tangled nerves finally got the best of her. With a mental apology to her father, she put aside the false bravado that was just too heavy to carry any longer.

“Chelsea?” When she stopped walking, Cash felt another stab of panic. “What's wrong? Are you sure you're okay, darlin'?”

“I'm fine,” she reassured him yet again. “But I was so worried you wouldn't find me in time,” she admitted.

He wasn't about to confess how he'd feared exactly the same thing. “But I did.”

“Yes. You did.” She managed a wobbly smile and put a hand on his cheek. “And now it's finally over.”

“As much as I hate to argue with you, after the lousy night you've had, Irish, you're wrong.” Cash covered her hand with his and lowered his smiling lips to hers. “It's just beginning.”