by Blaire Edens
Spencer shook his head. “It’s well past sundown. I’m afraid we can’t get everything packed and get back to the truck before dark. It’s impossible to travel in this swamp after dark.”
The idea of spending the night so close to such a terrifying creature was unsettling to say the least, but Spencer had a point. There was danger with either decision.
“It’s highly likely that he’s headed for his bed anyway,” she said in an attempt to reassure both of them.
The evening faded to black, and the landscape changed. The sounds in Scape Ore Swamp were different at night. The birds had quieted, and the frogs and insects had woken. The chirp of crickets was balanced by the insistent trill of tree frogs.
The two of them were sitting on their camp stools just outside the door of the tent. Above, not dimmed by the ambient light of any nearby cities, the stars were crisp and brilliant. “I can’t believe I saw him again,” Spencer said, breaking the silence. “What are the chances?”
“I’m wondering if there’s something in his environment, his habitat, that’s changed. It might make him more active.”
“They’re building some condos on the other side of the swamp, but that’s twenty-five or thirty miles from here.”
“I’d imagine that a big animal like him would have quite an impressive range.”
Spencer shrugged. “I guess. You’re the expert.”
“That was scary as hell. I mean, it’s always been my dream to see something like that in real life, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how terrifying it was.”
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s just as scary the second time.”
“That’s not very encouraging.”
“Damn. Why did my camera pick that moment to die?” He voiced the disappointment that both of them felt. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”
It had been the chance of a lifetime, and they’d missed it. Now she understood why so many crypto enthusiasts had similar stories. It was like some sort of weird law of electronics that helped the creatures stay under the radar.
“Maybe next time,” Lucy said, but there wasn’t much conviction in her voice. She doubted seriously that there would be a next time. Cryptozoologists spent years looking for creatures, and they were lucky to spot one in a lifetime.
“Maybe.” Spencer looked up at the sky. “At least we know he’s real. That’s something.”
Lucy placed her head on his shoulder. “Something very special.”
“Let’s call it a night, then, and get zipped up in the tent,” Spencer said. “We’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“I agree.”
They slept wrapped in each other’s arms despite the heat.
***
The next morning, they packed up their gear and headed back to the truck. Instead of checking back into the Bloomsbury, Spencer invited Lucy to stay at his house on the other side of the swamp.
She didn’t care where she slept as long as the place had a cool shower and a washer.
The house was an older brick home located on a tree-lined street. Inside, it was so neat, it looked like no one lived there. It was exactly what she expected.
That night, Lucy tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. In her head, she blamed it on the new bed and different pillows, but in her heart, she knew neither of those things had anything do with her unease.
“You okay?” Spencer asked. His voice was sleepy.
“Yeah. Sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay.” He propped himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, and yawned. “Is something bothering you?”
“We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“We’re both awake. Let’s talk about it now.”
“Even though we know that the Lizard Man exists, I’m still not sure he’s responsible for your father’s death. I mean we found no bones, no remains. Nothing.”
Spencer sighed loudly. “So what does that mean?”
“It means we have to call Bette before we close this case. We have to make certain he’s not with her.”
“I’d rather keep working until I have enough to convince a judge to have him declared dead.”
“It would never be the same as knowing the truth.”
He was quiet for a long time. Lucy listened to the sounds of the house, the whirr of the ceiling fan, the metallic plop of the icemaker. She wanted to give him time to think it through, to see if the truth was really what he was seeking, they hadn’t found it yet.
“I know you’re right but it’s just so hard to imagine him leaving my mother for her. After all she’s been through with him.”
Lucy had been dying to ask more about Bette, but it was such a sore subject she hadn’t found the right opportunity. Here, in the dark, it seemed like the time. “What’s the whole story on Bette?”
“It started about fifteen years ago. My mother found a letter from her, and she was crushed. My dad categorically denied the affair.”
“What did the letter say?”
“I have no idea. I just remember how much my mother cried over it, how long they were in counseling. I thought they were going to get a divorce.”
“The letters you found? What did they say?”
“They were strange, almost like they were written in code.”
“Do you still have them?”
“They’re at my office.”
“Can I see them?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“It just seems wrong to let someone else read them.” He turned over onto his side.
“You did,” she said to his back.
“That’s different.”
“No. It isn’t. You’re afraid I’ll find something that makes the affair a definite.”
After a couple of minutes, he flipped back over. “Fine. We’ll go by the office tomorrow and you can read them.”
Possibilities swirled in her head. Maybe Walter and Bette weren’t lovers. Maybe they just had some common interest and communicated with each other for that reason. Maybe she was an old client from the years before Spencer joined the firm. “How sure are you that they had an affair?”
“Ninety percent.”
“Why?”
“I can’t see my dad risking his marriage, his family, and his reputation for anything less.”
The next morning, they took Spencer’s car to his office. Located in a small office park just off Main Street, it was a brick building that looked like a 1970s reimagining of Tara. He unlocked the front door and turned on the lights.
“No secretary?”
“She retired, and I haven’t found a new one yet.”
The office was a mess. Piles of folders and loose papers covered nearly every surface. “How do you work in here?”
“I didn’t leave it like this.” When his eyes met hers, they were wide. “It was squared away when I left. Nothing was out of place.”
“Judging by your handwriting, I believe you. Who else has a key?”
“No one.”
“You’re sure about that? How about your father?”
He nodded. “I had the locks changed a few weeks ago.”
That wasn’t something a business owner did every day. “Why?”
“This happened once before.”
"When?"
“A few days after my dad disappeared?”
Lucy shook her head in disbelief. “And you didn’t connect the dots?”
“I thought they might be related but I had no proof.”
“No burglar alarm?”
“We never needed one. I thought it was an isolated incident.”
“Your mom doesn’t have a key?”
“No. She didn’t even have one when Dad was working.”
“You realize this is a big deal, right?”
“A very big deal. I need to call the police and file a report,” he said. “Last time, they looked very hard for suspects but I still need to make sure it’s on the
record.”
When the police came, they didn’t give Lucy the impression the case was a priority. “Probably just some kids looking for a laptop,” the officer said. “What’s missing?”
Spencer looked around the room. “All of the electronics are here and the safe hasn’t been tampered with. There might be some paperwork missing but we wouldn’t know it right away.”
Common criminals didn’t steal paperwork. Not that she was an expert but she imagined it would be hard to pawn.
Why was Spencer a target? Twice? There had to be a reason. Whoever broke into his place was looking for something very specific.
“We’ll look into it,” the other officer said, his eyes never leaving his notebook.
After they left, Spencer said, “I don’t think they’ll be arresting anyone anytime soon.”
Lucy agreed. “I’m afraid you might be right. Let’s clean up this mess. I’m dying to get my hands on those letters.”
After nearly two hours, they’d filed most of the folders away and had most of the paper piles sorted. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the manila envelope that held all of Bette’s letters.
“Shit. Why would they take those? It makes no sense.” Spencer tossed a folder onto the desk.
“I think it makes perfect sense. We need to get in touch with Bette. Immediately.”
“How are we going to do that without the letters?”“
“By crossing our fingers and depending on Google.”
Spencer set her up in his father’s old office and he went into his. There were no sounds in the office except the whoosh of the air conditioning and the clicking of keyboard keys.
“I think I found her!” Lucy yelled an hour later. “Come look at this.”
Spencer rushed into the office and stood behind her.
“Look, Bette Hollis, 124-B Tropical Grove Court, Daytona Beach. She’s the right age.”
“Who’s going to call her?”
“You are.” Lucy swiveled in her chair and looked up at him. “She’s much more likely to talk to the concerned son than to the random stranger.”
Spencer pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and dialed the number on the monitor.
* * *
“I hoped you’d call,” Bette said.
“What do you know about my father?” It was strange, after all these years of hating this woman, a woman he’d never even seen a photograph of, to be talking to her on the telephone.
“I know that he’s in trouble, and he needs our help.”
Spencer didn’t like the way she used the word “our” so casually. What right did she have to assume such a relationship with him? “Is he with you?” He dreaded the answer. Either way, it wasn’t ideal.
“No.”
“Look, Bette, my dad has been missing for a year. I need to find out what happened to him. Can you, will you help me?”
“Come to Daytona, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Why can’t you just tell me now?”
“You’ll understand when you get here. I’ll be expecting you.” She disconnected, leaving Spencer staring at his phone.
“What did she say?” Lucy asked.
“She wants us to come to Daytona. She wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“So let’s go.”
He slumped down into a chair. “I think it’s a dead end.”
“It isn’t a dead end.” Lucy stood and began pacing back and forth across the office. “She’s the key to this whole thing. She has to be. If you want the truth, you have to be willing to face it, whatever it turns out to be.”
“Why don’t you go? I’ll pay.”
“Hell, no, Spencer. We’ve moved past the employee/employer relationship so I can tell you exactly what I think. You’re being a big baby. Pack your shit, get in the car, and let’s go to Daytona and solve this once and for all.”
“But I have enough to have him declared deceased. It would just be easier on everyone.”
“Except you and your mother. What happens if you assume he’s dead and move forward with your lives only to have him show back up? Your mother could remarry, for God’s sake, all on your word that her husband is dead. Talk about an awkward family reunion. If you don’t want to find out for yourself, find out for your mother.”
“Okay.”
He looked as if she’d punched him in the solar plexus. “She’s already crafted her own story.”
“That’s the most dangerous kind of fiction.”
“But she doesn’t want to know.”
“She’s told you that?”
He hung his head. “No,” he muttered.
“Then you can’t assume that’s the way she feels.”
Spencer looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers. She saw the emotional storm gathering behind them. “You’re right. We should go to Florida.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It took a little more than five hours to reach Daytona Beach. Once they hopped onto I-95, it was straight interstate. Traffic was light, and they only stopped for fuel. Lucy tried to talk to Spencer about what he expected to find at Bette’s, but he shut her down every time, steering the conversation back to something benign like the weather or sports.
It was after midnight when they found a hotel and checked into their room. Lucy was exhausted. The past few days had worn her out. In less than a week, she’d found credible evidence of a cryptozoological creature that might get her back to teaching. She might be falling for a man who wasn’t her type at all. And now, she was barreling toward Florida in an effort to chase down someone’s might-be-mistress.
“I haven’t been to Daytona Beach since I was a kid,” Lucy said after they’d showered and settled into bed. “My dad brought us here a couple of years before he died.”
“I know you must miss him.”
“I do. Every single day. I just wish he could’ve stayed a little longer.”
“I miss my dad, too. I wish the last time I’d seen him I’d been nice to him. Instead, I was all over his ass. I can never get that back.”
Lucy didn’t want to give Spencer any false hope, but while she knew her father was dead and buried, she was beginning to get the feeling that Walter wasn’t. Maybe Bette would have some answers. She sure as hell hoped so. She’d shamed Spencer into coming to Florida and had taken a big chance they’d get answers. Bette could tell them anything or nothing.
It was a big gamble.
When Lucy heard Spencer’s breathing become slow and regular, she snuggled up next to him and drifted off.
The next morning, they dressed quickly and grabbed coffee and muffins at the hotel. They pulled into Bette’s driveway at half past eight.
“I hope she’s an early riser,” Spencer said.
“She’ll be glad to see you. I’m sure of that.” God, she hoped that was true. Lucy hated wild cards, and Bette was the ultimate one.
He put the car in park and killed the engine. Turning to face Lucy, he took her hand in his. “Thank you. For everything.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. Let’s go.”
The house was a small bungalow in a neighborhood that wasn’t aging very well. Some of the houses had lawns that looked more like jungles and more than a few of them had cars on blocks in the driveway. Bette’s house was kitschy. Painted a bright peach, concrete gnomes and painted Dutch Girls littered the yard. Several planters were filled with artificial flowers.
From everything she knew about Spencer and his hi-falutin’ family, Lucy couldn’t imagine Walter having an affair with a woman who lived in a house like this. It just didn’t fit. Something was going on between them, but she wasn’t betting on a passionate love affair.
Spencer opened her car door and helped her out. He held her hand as they walked up the concrete walk to the front door. Just as he raised his finger to ring the doorbell, he paused and kissed Lucy lightly on the lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Just seconds after he pressed the doorbell, the front door opened.
/> Bette wasn’t what Lucy expected. At all.
The woman who opened the door was petite, maybe five feet two or three. Her skin was the color of a polished walnut. The only thing Lucy had right when imagining the woman was her age. She looked to be mid-sixties but her skin was so smooth and so even that she looked younger. Only her hands belied her age.
“Y’all come on inside out of that heat.” Even though there was at least a breeze in Daytona, it was still pushing ninety and it was still early.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Lucy heard the shock in Spencer’s voice.
Inside, the house was cool and quiet. She showed them to a sofa covered in a busy floral print. They sat side by side while she took her seat in a wingback chair across the coffee table from them.
“Would you like some coffee before we start talking?” When both Spencer and Lucy shook their heads, Bette continued. “I’m worried about your daddy, Spencer.
“Is he alive?”
Bette nodded solemnly. “As far as I know he is. I haven’t heard from him in a while, and that’s not like him.”
“All these years, I thought the two of you were having a romantic affair. Were you?”
Bette laughed until big tears ran down her face. She hooted, hollered and slapped her knees. “I never had an affair with Walter. Good gracious, why would I do that?”
Spencer looked at Lucy who was having a hard time controlling the urge to laugh herself. “That’s good news,” she mouthed.
“What was your relationship then? What were all the letters about?”
Bette sat back in her chair and pushed her glasses back up onto her nose. “The answer to that is pretty complicated, but it might help to explain the reason he’s had to go into hiding.”
“Hiding?” That got Lucy’s attention. It suggested something bigger, more complicated than a man who’d just decided his life wasn’t working for him anymore.
“But you think he’s alive?” Lucy heard the relief in Spencer’s voice. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard Bette’s answer the first time he’d asked the question. It was that he needed reassurance. No matter how much he’d convinced himself that it would be easier to explain his father’s death than to explain his disappearance, he never really bought it.
