by Jessie Cooke
Sledge shook his head. “No way. This is your boat, you row it – paddle it – whatever. I’m not sticking my arms out over that water. I like having two hands, and these tats were way too expensive to end up in a croc’s belly.”
Maz laughed again. “They’re not crocs, they’re gators.”
“And the difference is?”
“They come from two different families.”
“That doesn’t help,” Sledge said. He reached into the backpack that Maz’s father had given him and took out a small .22. He’d been carrying it on him when they left Fresno and he’d tucked it in the bag in New Orleans. While he clutched it and continued to look around, Maz said:
“That .22 will just piss off the big ones.”
Sledge held up his other hand and showed Maz the hunting knife he was holding. The leather sheath on it covered a six-inch blade. “Let ’em get pissed, I don’t care.”
Maz smiled and shook his head. He had honestly tried to get them a safer boat, but they had talked to everyone on the pier and the only one willing to rent to two guys from California wearing MC vests was an old man who rented canoes and kayaks. He did have them sign a waiver so he wouldn’t get blamed if something happened to them and he gave them a quick spiel about how they were entering waters that contained snakes, crocodiles, and other dangerous species. He gave them a brochure from the Department of Fish and Game that laid out the hunting and fishing laws and the fines for poaching…and when Maz paid for the rental with his credit card, the old man told him there would be a hundred-dollar deposit…in case he didn’t return the boat, or he returned it damaged. Maz was sure they wouldn’t have the boat back in four hours, which was how long they’d rented it for. Maz hoped the deposit would keep the old man from calling the police, which would only complicate their mission out there.
As they paddled deeper into the swamps under a canopy of cypress trees he listened to Sledge’s complaints the way you might hear a radio in the background while you were working out or doing something else that had your attention. Entering the swamp was like being in a different world to Maz. It had its own personality, its own vibe. Nothing sounded like the swamp. The insects and the gentle way the water lapped at the thick foliage, sucked at the mud on the banks, and slapped against the boat was almost like a symphony if you listened hard enough. The air was thick and in places a light fog rose up off the water, and there were fish that occasionally jumped up out of the water and dove back in, gulping at the moist air as they did.
“That old man recognize the picture you showed him?” Sledge asked, finally ending his complaints and beginning to look…not relaxed…but like he was resigning himself to the situation at hand. Maz had shown the boat man a photo on his phone that Hunter had texted to him. It was a picture of Jammer, not a great one, but the only one that any of them had been able to find.
“Nah, at least he said he didn’t,” Maz said.
“You feeling something different?”
“Just a gut feeling. The old man’s pupils dilated when he looked at the picture.”
“They dilated?”
“Yeah, I was watching his eyes and his pupils dilated. So, either he recognized Jammer, or the photo reminded him of someone…I don’t know. But if Jammer came this way and he didn’t want to be found, I got the feeling from that old man that if he was paid enough, he might just keep his mouth shut.”
“So, what are we looking for?” Sledge asked, staring across at a muddy bank to the right of them.
“Anywhere that the mud looks disturbed, like a boat might have been pulled up on it, or human footprints. Most of the boats that pass through here are tour boats and they don’t stop along here at all. The people that live out here…”
“Wait, people live out here?”
Maz smiled. “Yep. You’ll see rows of houses along the water when we get a little further up.”
“Crazy,” Sledge muttered.
“Anyway, the people that live out here don’t usually just pull their boats up at random spots. If they go up on any of these little islands of land, they would normally leave their boat tied up along the bank for when they came back to it. My guess would be that Jammer would haul his into the brush where someone out here on the water couldn’t see it…but at least temporarily, that would leave some kind of tracks in all this mud.”
“Is there quicksand out here?” Sledge asked.
“Oh yeah, for sure. It’s not like you see on television, though, where some guy gets stuck in it and just keeps sinking until he’s completely buried and suffocating. It’s more like walking on land that shifts under your feet. You do sink down into it, but unless you’re just incredibly weak, or caught in some kind of flooding situations, hurricane, whatever, you’re not gonna drown in it.”
“Good to know,” Sledge said. He dipped his paddle into the water and began stroking in time with Maz. “Funny how people talk shit about how dangerous New York City is when there’s all this shit out…shit, stop!” Sledge pulled his paddle up and Maz looked in the direction that his friend was looking in. There was a small hummock to the right of them. A hummock is a protrusion of dry land alongside the swamp, like a small island. Lying behind a cluster of vegetation was what looked like a large, green duffel bag. The vegetation had been tamped down and there were tracks leading up to it from the water that looked like gators’ to Maz. Someone had hidden the duffel there, but thanks to the gators’ incessant hunger and curiosity, it had been exposed.
“Push back against the water with your paddle. I’m going to turn us in that direction.” Sledge did what he told him and they worked together to get the little pirogue turned to the right. The water was thick with vegetation and completely still, so it took a lot of effort, and several minutes to get their boat to the edge of that hammock. As they got closer Maz could see the bag more clearly. It looked like the ones he’d seen that some of his brothers still lugged around…the guys who had been in the military, the ones that got used to traveling the world with everything important to them slung over their shoulder. Some of them had buttons on theirs, or their initials embroidered into the canvas. As they got closer to this one Maz couldn’t see any buttons or initials, but there was something just as telling. A patch, like the one he wore every day on his vest, was sewn onto the bag. It was a skull. He looked at Sledge, who was still staring at the bag as the boat began to bump up against the edge of the hummock.
“Maz?”
“Yeah?”
“You smell that?”
The rank smell had just begun to assault Maz’s nostrils, but Sledge already had his hand over his nose and mouth and he looked like he was about to get sick. “Something’s dead,” Maz said.
“Something’s decomposing,” Sledge corrected him. “Look.” He pointed toward the end of the bag that was pointed in Sledge’s direction. The bag was about five feet long and maybe two to three feet wide. It looked like it was stuffed full and the rounded end facing away from Maz looked like it had been ripped open with something jagged…maybe teeth…and something was hanging out of the bag, something that looked human.
20
Marissa sat perched on the edge of the chair surrounded by beautiful green plants, some of them flowering, all of them looking healthier than any houseplant she’d ever tried to grow. The porch was enclosed with glass and offered a beautiful view of a lush, well-maintained back yard and a beautiful rose garden. She imagined that this room was a good place to sit when a person needed to reflect on their life. It was peaceful and if she weren’t so tired and nervous, she’d be enjoying it herself.
She had taken a six-hour flight and then rented a car and driven for over an hour after being up all night the night before, trying to talk herself out of doing this. She considered renting a hotel room and showering and cleaning up before she came here, but she was afraid that if she stalled, she would lose her nerve. She almost had when she pulled up in front of the light blue Victorian home in the Garden District of New Orleans. It was gor
geous. The windows were trimmed in white and each one held a flower box, filled with vibrant splashes of color. There were French doors in the center of the second story with a small wrought iron gate that formed a little balcony. A bistro table and chairs sat behind the little gate and a vase of flowers adorned the center of it.
She talked herself out of leaving and forced herself up to the front door. It was white like the trim of the house and had a beautifully etched circular glass window in the center of it. With a shaking hand she pressed the doorbell and while she waited for someone to answer the door she couldn’t help but wonder how angry Maz was going to be with her for coming here, and Ransom for giving her the address.
“Hello?” A middle-aged woman dressed in a crisp white blouse and a pair of black slacks pulled open the door. Her dark hair was swept up into a high bun and she wore very little makeup. Her smile looked warm and genuine.
“Hi,” Marissa said, hearing her own voice quiver. “I’m Marissa Williams. I was looking for Maz.” The woman looked at her blankly and after a few seconds Marissa said, “I’m sorry, I mean Zane. I’m looking for Zane.” The woman’s features changed then. It was obvious that she knew exactly who Zane was.
“Mr. Zimmerman isn’t here just now, but please, come in.” She stepped back, and Marissa stepped in after her. She couldn’t help but look up at the high ceilings and the dark wood paneling on the walls. It was all very sophisticated and Marissa had a hard time imagining Maz growing up there. She looked at the heavily polished banister of the staircase that wound up to the second and then the third floor above her and smiled as she pictured him sliding down that as a little boy. “Miss?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marissa brought herself back to the moment. Her mind wanted to wander because she felt so stupid suddenly for being there. “You know what? I’m sorry that I bothered you. I’ll just catch up with Zane some other time…”
“You’re looking for Zane?” She knew who belonged to the feminine voice before she even looked up. The accent was thick and French. When she looked at Elise, she thought she might have known who she was even if she hadn’t spoken. She looked exactly the way that Marissa imagined her when Maz talked about her. She had blonde hair that was cut in a sophisticated bob, high cheekbones, heart-shaped lips, and vivid blue eyes. She was dressed casually, but smartly, in a pair of beige slacks and a short-sleeved button-up shirt. Her teeth were dazzling white when she smiled and as she came down the stairs she held out her hand and when Marissa took it, she thought she’d never felt skin so soft. “I’m Elise, Zane’s mother, and you are?”
“My name’s Marissa…I’m…” She felt her eyes fill with tears. What was she? She was nothing, really. She fought them back and pushing the words out around the lump in her throat she said, “I’m a friend of Zane’s from California.” She saw a subtle change in Elise’s eyes, questions, maybe, but the smile was still there.
“Edna, would you mind showing Marissa to the sunroom?” she asked the other woman. Then looking back at Marissa she said, “I’ll join you in just a moment.”
That was approximately ten minutes ago, and Marissa was finding it harder to breathe with every minute that passed. This was a stupid idea. She told Charity when she came up with it that it was a stupid idea. She was about to make a fool of herself. Not only would Maz think she was pathetic, but his mother would as well. Her own mother probably would too if she knew. Marissa felt bad for lying to her mother when she left, but she’d just been too embarrassed to tell her that she was getting on a plane and chasing a man who had gone two thousand miles away to…maybe…get away from her. She’d told her she was taking a short trip with Charity…and then she’d made sure that her mother had at least three of her church friends to call if she needed anything while she was gone.
She’d told Charity at first that it was pointless because she’d have no idea where to look for him. Charity had been the one to suggest she talk to Ransom, in person. She’d sat on the floor of the club with him and they’d played with his dog, Annie. She waited until no one else was in earshot and then she’d asked him about Maz. They made small talk about how he was doing for a few minutes when Ransom mentioned that he was visiting his parents while he was in Louisiana. Ransom flat-out refused at first to give her the address. But when he walked her out to her car and she burst into tears, he caved. She hadn’t done it purposely, or in any way to try to manipulate him, but she’d taken the address, the stupid plan she and Charity had come up with, and a few hundred dollars of the travel money she kept in her savings, and now here she was…feeling like a fool.
“Here we are, Marissa. I’m so sorry I was gone for so long.” Elise stepped into the room and Marissa got to her feet. Elise was carrying a tray with a teapot and some kind of pastries on top. “Sit,” she said, “Please.” Marissa sat back down and Elise sat opposite her. “Would you like a beignet and café? I made them myself.” Marissa didn’t want anything to eat, but she was afraid of insulting the classy older woman.
“Sure, thank you.” Elise poured them each a cup of coffee and placed a small plate with one of the powdered-sugar pastries on it in front of her. She offered her cream and sugar and once Marissa fixed her coffee Elise took a sip of her own and said:
“Can I ask an intrusive question, chérie?”
Marissa’s stomach clenched. “Yes, ma’am.”
Elise smiled. “Please, no ma’am. I’m Elise. You came a long way to see my son, but you don’t look happy to be here. Are you here to give him some kind of news?” Marissa saw Elise’s pretty blue eyes flit to her stomach…did Elise think she was pregnant? Horrified, Marissa said:
“No, oh no…I’m not, I mean, if you think I’m here to…no…”
Elise was smiling at her. “Please, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”
“No, it was a legitimate question. I’m not pregnant. That is what you were asking, right?”
Elise smiled again. “Yes, it was my first thought. You just seemed so nervous. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Marissa said again. “It’s okay. The truth is that I am a nervous wreck and I regret coming here now.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’ve never done anything like this before, and I can’t believe I’m doing it now. See, Maz…Zane and I were seeing each other before he came out here. We had only been together for a few weeks, but it was really good…you know? I don’t know, I’m inexperienced in these things so it could have just been me, misinterpreting his words and feelings. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to talk in circles. I’m just so nervous. But…we were together the night before he came here and he said he felt sick and he had his friend take me home. I wanted to stay and make sure he didn’t need anything, but he was adamant that he wanted me to leave. He told me he would call, or text. It’s been four days now and I haven’t heard from him. He’s not answering my texts or taking my calls.
“Please don’t get me wrong,” she said, looking into Elise’s piercing blue eyes. “I’m not a stalker or anything crazy like that. If he doesn’t want to be with me, I understand and I’ll leave him alone. But I was talking to my friend about all of this and she convinced me that I somehow deserved an answer and impulsively, I came here to get one. I feel pretty stupid about it now.”
She was surprised when Elise stood up. She imagined that she was going to toss her out of the house. Instead, she came around the table between them and sat down next to her on the couch. She put her warm hand on Marissa’s arm and said, “Being in love has made all of us feel like fools at one time or another. But I will tell you this, there is no love worth having that you’re not willing to fight for. My son is a beautiful soul, but he has…issues…when it comes to women. Did he tell you he was adopted by me?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Even though he was very young, he still feels the sting of his mother leaving him, and sometimes that gets in his way, I think. I must say that I’m appalled to hear that he just up and left you without a word. If he were s
till a child, I’d scold him and maybe even ground him for that.” She smiled, and Marissa laughed softly. She liked the woman. “Please stay and spend the day with me. Zane and his friend Steve are supposed to try to be back in time for dinner. I’d love it if you would join us. I promise you will have plenty of privacy to talk with Zane, and if things don’t go well, I’ll send him out for his dinner and you can still eat with us.” She winked and smiled. Marissa couldn’t help but smile back. Maz had told her several times how lucky he was that Elise came into his life and now she could clearly see why. The woman exuded warmth, and it also made Marissa wonder why Maz was still feeling so much anger and resentment toward his biological mother when he’d had a perfect one all along.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d love to join you for dinner, but…” She was going to say, But tonight is probably not a good time. Maybe I should talk to Maz before I accept. Maybe I should just catch the next flight home…something along those lines. Elise didn’t let her finish, however. She jumped up to her feet and said:
“Magnifique! I will ask Edna to show you to your room and I’ll get started on dinner.”
“My room?” Marissa stood up.
“Well, yes, surely you won’t be going out after dinner to find a place to stay in this city. You can stay here with us, we have plenty of room.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t impose like that.”
“Impose? I invited you. You’re my guest.” She dismissed any further argument by calling Edna back into the room. “Edna dear, will you show Miss Williams to the green room and please get her any toiletries or anything she might need. She’s going to be our guest tonight. Marissa dear, do you have luggage?”
“Yes, I have a suitcase.”
“I’ll have my husband bring that inside if you’ll leave me the keys.” Elise was sweet and warm…but she was also slightly pushy. Before she knew it Marissa was upstairs in a beautiful guest room, decorated in hues of mint green and eggshell white. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall for quite some time, asking herself what the hell she was doing there. She had no answers other than her old standby. It was Charity’s fault.
