by James, Anne
Laurel chuckled as she walked toward the Nature Center. “Can’t you get Leonard to deal with her? He’s the biologist.” She knew this was a redundant statement, but this fit right into Leonard’s job description as park biologist.
A growling sound came over the phone, followed by a snort. “And where is Leonard when we need him? He sure isn’t answering his phone.” A long pause for emphasis, “As usual, I might add.”
Pulling the ever present ink pen out of her left breast pocket, Laurel jotted the number on the palm of her left hand.
She leaned against the split rail fence as she punched in the phone number.
A woman’s shrill voice answered.
Laurel followed her routine formality of park phone etiquette. “Hello, this is Laurel Grey at Timucuan Springs.”
The woman launched into a screechy rendition of catastrophic calamities.
Laurel found it difficult to decipher what was what. She heard the words, “huge bird,” and chose to focus on that.
“Ma’am, does this bird spread his wings in the sun and hold very still?”
“Yes, yes, that’s just what it does!” Her reply was very excited.
“That’s an anhinga. Some people call it a snakebird, darter or water turkey. They are known to eat goldfish right out of a pond. Just like you’re describing.”
Although excited by finally getting a response to her predicament, Laurel knew she wanted more.
“Can you come and get it?”
This is where it got sticky. If Laurel didn’t choose her words with care, the exasperated creature could telephone Tallahassee and start a whole downward chain of command or a better word would be backlash. That was the delicate part of being a public servant—trying to find a positive solution when that wasn’t what the visitor or, in this case, the woman telephoning wanted to hear. She wanted action.
Laurel focused on her words. “I wish we could do that. I’m sorry that we cannot. The best thing to do would be to cover your pond with chicken wire or something the bird can’t get through. If this particular anhinga goes away, you will most likely have another one very soon.”
The woman became silent.
Laurel braced for the worst. She expected an onslaught of words in an angry voice. Just the opposite happened.
“Thank you. That makes sense. I’ve seen those birds all over Florida and you’re right. If I manage to get rid of this one, I’ll just have more of them coming back to finish off the few goldfish I have left. My children have named all ten of them. They have been quite upset.” Her voice was much lower and calmer. “What is your name again?”
Laurel answered in a chirpy tone. She was never sure if the customer was being sincere or would get her name and call the manager.
It was known to happen more often than not.
Chapter 20
Gray shirt tucked into black trousers, Phil Potter was resplendent in his Florida Park Service volunteer uniform. His shirt was a glory to behold. Various medals marched down the left side of his chest.
A medal claiming that the Florida State Parks were a national gold winner, America’s first two-time winner. Several years outdated and not to uniform code at all. Another medal announcing he was a Florida Master Naturalist. Again, not at all to code in the Operations Manual stipulating that only a medal stating the number of volunteer hours served be pinned a quarter inch above the nametag, the key word being only.
Laurel frowned, as expected. She had reprimanded Phil numerous times about his proclivity for wearing these decorations.
Phil gave her a sly smile. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
Her eyes drilled holes through his many mementos.
“And how’s our Laurel today?” Arms folded across his chest he rocked back and forth on his heels, his British accent lending an altogether different tilt to his words.
“Other than feeling like a sliced-up turkey, I’m doing well, sir!”
“Little stiff are we? You are walking like a constipated Queen Mother!”
“Oh, Phil. How you flatter me!” She grinned in pleasure. “Busy this morning? Many visitors?”
“As you can see, the park is quite dead today. But I have high hopes that they will be gushing through the doors at any moment!” He walked over to a glass case displaying a small taxidermied Florida black bear and removed a walking stick from the glass. Holding it up and squinting at it, he continued, “Phasmatodea, sometimes called phasmida. Extremely difficult to spot unless, of course, they are walking across a glass case housing a bear!” With great care, he placed the insect on the trunk of a nearby oak tree. “In all seriousness, I thought the park might be quite busy with the holidays just around the corner and all the snowbirds down from the north. I saw the sign as I drove by the ranger station that the campground is full.”
Laurel took a step closer to the oak, watching the insect as it moved. “Have I properly thanked you for the beautiful bouquet the volunteers sent me?”
“Ah! You did, as a matter of fact. Just now. That’s all that is needed. We are just thankful that you are recovering so rapidly!”
Laurel gave him a going-over with her eyes to judge if he was jesting or serious.
“I heard you graphically described the mating of the two pine snakes at the last CSO meeting. I was told your description was very sensual.”
Phil smirked. His blue eyes twinkled. “‘Tis a most astonishing performance. Kinky as a cheap old garden house, I am!”
Laurel laughed in delight. Her radio burst into life, interrupting her next sentence.
“Heads up to all field staff. There’s a line of cars stretched to Timucuan Road. A high school has rented both pavilions for the day. Lake Norris High. There should be about 200 of them.” Marie made the announcement as she was early gate that day, which meant she was working the ranger station. “Field copy?”
“Drake copies.”
“Laurel copies.”
“Sam copies.”
Boyd’s deep voice commanded attention. “I want all green available down by the springs.”
The radio announced that the three rangers all copied.
“Leonard, are you in the park?” Boyd asked.
Radio silence was the answer.
“Boyd, I’ll get him on the phone.” Janice LaPlume would search until she found the park biologist.
Lake Norris High School had a long running history with the park. When they arrived en masse, it always spelled trouble. The students were from different minorities and seemed to carry a chip on their shoulder for anything and anybody in authority.
“This is Lt. Meer. Officer Dale and I will be there within ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Boyd copies.”
Just as the rangers were leaving their immediate jobs to go to the springs, the radio burst to life again.
“This is Drake. There is a 1044. Do you copy? A 1044!”
This was the number code used for a missing child. The park took immediate action when they heard this number.
Marie responded from the ranger station. “I’ve stopped the traffic. I could use some help up here.”
Sam replied. “Drake and I are just outside, Marie. We’ve got it covered.” This meant the two rangers were stopping every vehicle that exited the park and searching it.
“Description?”
“Girl. Four years old. Long blonde hair. Blue shirt. Blue shorts. Barefoot.”
Mitch Herman, assistant park manager’s, voice sent a warning. “Make sure we follow protocol. I’m on my way to the ranger station.”
Laurel waved a goodbye to Phil. Trotting to her state truck, she hopped in, careful not to lean back in the seat. She would help direct traffic at the ranger station.
As she drove through the parking lot of the main day use part of the park, it was much more crowded
than when she had first arrived. The park was filling up. Now, with the missing child and the high school kids, the chaos meter had gone from a zero to the red zone.
The entrance to the park was a deadlock. The vehicles exiting the park were at a dead halt as well.
Laurel drove with great care down the entrance lane, passing the halted vehicles. As she turned to park in the ranger station parking lot, she saw Drake and Sam dealing with a green Toyota Camry.
Visitors were usually very willing to comply to having their back seats checked, being questioned and even their trunk opened when it was explained that a child was missing.
She parked next to the DEP L.E. vehicles. Lt. Meer and Officer Dale had just arrived and were exchanging information.
Laurel grabbed the large orange traffic cones by the building and strung them across the entrance and exit lanes, creating a turn around so they could better manage the clogged traffic.
She stood in a strategic place near the ranger station so she could help Marie answer questions. The high school kids were displaying various degrees of impatience with horns honking and hopping in and out of the cars while they yelled obscenities to each other. From experience, Laurel, as well as the rest of the staff, knew it wouldn’t take long until the happy obscenities changed to anger directed at the park staff.
Mitch strode over to Laurel. He tilted his head, which helped the rim of his Indiana Jones brim shade his face. In a low voice, he said, “Things okay here?”
She turned so that her back was toward the incoming traffic. “So far. Won’t take long until these kids have had enough of waiting. Any luck with the little girl?”
“Not yet. Hope she turns up soon.” His face had a troubled look all over it.
The next agonizing minutes seemed to be hours. The high schoolers were yelling and the vehicles trying to exit the park were clogging main park drive. As chaotic as a Jackson Pollock painting.
Chapter 21
“Are you working late field today?” A shiver surprised Laurel, as she chatted with Drake who was loading the orange cones onto the Ford F-150 pick-up tail gate. The 1980 truck had seen better years. Tired and true, the vehicle continued to plug away giving its last breath to the rangers.
He grinned at her. “Yup. Thank God that cold front moved in, chasing the Lake Norris hooligans out.” He lifted an aluminum water bottle, taking long deep swallows. Wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand, his sweat-stained shirt stuck to his hefty torso.
The afternoon sun trickled through the live oak trees dripping off the Spanish moss that appeared to have an inner glow. As the temperature continued to dip, the visitors exited the park. November was dropping a taste of winter.
Laurel leaned against the side of the truck with care. A twinge of pain snaking from her shoulder up her neck caught her off-guard, causing her to wince. She rubbed the base of her neck with her hand.
“You okay?” The concern in Drake’s voice colored his words.
She rammed her hands in her front pants pockets, miffed that she’d let her condition show. “Must be the change in the weather.” She shrugged, deciding that she was being a bit uptight, “Or it could be the day.”
Drake took a step to the cab of the truck. Reaching through the open window, he grabbed an open package of sunflower seeds that were lying on the blue vinyl seat. Popping several into his mouth, he pondered Laurel’s words as he expertly moved the seeds to various locations with his tongue. His right cheek held the new seeds. The left cheek was filling with the empty hulls and the kernel of the sunflower was between his front teeth. Many years of being a ranger had taught him this skill.
Deciding to take a different tack, Drake munched a few kernels. He tugged his wet shirt. “Glad I brought my jacket.” He squinted as he looked through the woods. “Nice that the little girl turned up when she did. Things were getting a little hairy by the ranger station for a few minutes there.” He cleared his throat. “Seems as if they’re always with one of their relatives when somebody panics and sets off the missing-child alarm.”
“True.” Laurel agreed. “But better to be safe than sorry. I would much rather have taken all the precautions and have the child turn up safe, than the alternative.” She tapped him on the upper arm. “You and Sam were right on it! Good job.”
“Marie and Mitch were in there too.” Drake pushed off the side of the truck and gave the tire a kick as he added, “Course it always helps to have L.E. show up. Lt. Meer is one good L.E officer.” He glanced at Laurel.
This coming from Drake was a high compliment. Laurel knew that he was known to always look on the dark side of things—a bit like Eeyore on a bad day—dismally gloomy for all eternity. In fact, the more she looked at Drake, the more she decided that he resembled the old gray donkey character from the Winnie-the-Pooh stories by author, A.A. Milne.
As she turned to walk away, his words stopped her in her tracks.
“Did you know that Ernie Buckle and Boyd used to work together in the Keys?”
Turning slowly, Laurel schooled her facial features to remain neutral, “Boyd told me.”
“Does that bother you?”
She felt him studying her. Deciding to reveal herself, she said, “Yes, it does, a bit.”
Drake took a deep breath and released it with a whoosh as was his style. “I was a new ranger here at Timucuan when the two of them drove up for Ranger Academy. We graduated from the same class. I wouldn’t let that bother you. Boyd had nothing to do with coming from the same park. Everybody in our class thought Buckle was a first-grade ass. He was always clowning around, looking for attention.” He reached into the cab for an empty cup and spat the empty sunflower husks into it. “Buckle could be damn funny, but he was also damn weird. Even back then, he was a little off his beam. His little jokes always went a little too far, if you ask me.”
Laurel considered his words. Staring first at Drake then turning to stare at the western sky. She sniffed the air, “I smell smoke.”
Drake opened the door to the truck. “That would be the campers lighting up their campfires. Going to be a chilly one.”
“Drake?”
He turned to look at her.
“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“Thought you might.” He slammed the door shut and stuck his head out the window. “See, you tomorrow!”
The old engine turned over, protesting the need to start.
Laurel stood watching as the truck turned a corner. Her phone vibrated. Pulling it out of the case on her belt, she typed in the code to unlock it. A text from Brodie appeared, “Dinner at 6:30?”
Laurel typed one simple word as she smiled, “Yes.”
Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. 3:45 a.m. She could probably catch Boyd in his office. Feeling the need to address this relationship with Buckle, she hurried to her truck.
Driving to the administration building, she had to stomp on the brakes as a flock of wild turkeys meandered onto the sandy road. The tom spread his tail in defiance of the great white truck.
Laurel smiled. Beautiful bird. Beautiful ugly bird was more like it.
In her haste to get to Boyd, she yanked open the administration office door with more gusto than intended.
Janice peered at her over the top of her computer screen. Her half-glasses perched on the narrow nose. “Geez, Laurel! You open that door like there is no tomorrow! What’s the hurry?”
Laurel tossed a smile over her shoulder and gave a half-wave as she hurried down the hall to Boyd’s office.
His door was open, so she politely stood in the doorway waiting for him to notice. He was pecking at his keyboard with one finger, having never mastered typing on the computer—old school park ranger to the bone. She knew he would much rather be out in the field rather than stuck behind a computer. Managing property the size of a small kingdom for the State of Florida kept his
nose to the grindstone.
He glanced up, “Come on in. Sit down. Just let me finish this.”
She sat on a faded brown chair, folding her hands.
With a last hard tap on a key, he looked at her, as he sagged back into the plush office chair, “What’s up?”
Before she could answer, he said, “Something bothering you?”
Wiggling in her chair, she struggled to begin.
Boyd crossed his legs studying her. “Laurel, just because I knew Ernie in the past doesn’t mean I have any connections or association with him now.” He cleared his throat and tapped on his knee. “The man is a psychomaniac and is safely behind bars now.”
She studied him nodding in agreement. Did she believe him? There was just a slight nagging bit of suspicion that tainted her total acceptance of what Boyd said. Maybe she was just singed from the past and had trouble deciphering feelings of betrayal.
Leaning forward, she stared at him with the intensity of an eagle. “Do you remember when we went through my last yearly evaluation report?”
“Yes, I do.”
“We discussed how focusing on the positive was crucial to dealing with co-workers, employees, etc. …”
Boyd nodded. He appeared to be a little fuzzy as he frowned.
Laurel sat back in her chair. “That’s exactly what I’m doing with all my life. Whether it is the professional working part or my personal life, dealing with family, children and so on, I don’t choose to focus on the negative. I believe we create positive things in our lives by our thoughts.” Her blue eyes pierced him. “I choose to not let the horror this man inflicted on me consume my energy. I know that I will have to keep making a conscious effort to put all of this in an area that doesn’t haunt me and drag me down. I’ll do whatever is healthy in that area. I will go forward.”
Boyd pursed his lips, stroking his beard. “Yes, Laurel, I believe you will.” He suddenly sat forward leaning his elbows on his knees. “If there is anything we can do to help, let me know.”
