Lilies and vines tangled around my body as I cut through the inky water. I forced my eyes open, struggling to see in the cloudy haze, lungs on the verge of bursting. I surfaced for a quick breath and dove in again. Light from above pierced into the darkness, guiding me to the bottom as I frantically searched the thick black ooze. I dug into the muck, fumbling through the sludge when my hand collided with a pile of long smooth objects. Cloth swirled around my fingers. Was it Benny’s shirt? I grabbed with both hands and pulled. When the muck cleared, I made out a long femur bone with part of a pant leg. In horror, I threw it aside, seeing a fuzzy outline of a hundred other bones strewn on the scummy pond floor.
I swam farther out through a forest of lilies. Fear swallowed me, consumed every single cell. I kicked harder and harder, propelling through an underwater sandstorm. Where was he?
A cool current washed against my face where the river met the bog. Ahead, a log rested on the bottom wedged next to a mossy boulder. Was Benny trapped beneath it? Had the swift current sucked him under?
Swimming closer, panic rose in my throat. This was no log. Dark leathery skin stretched over its bony head. Raised plates scaled its back. Dark eyes rolled upward, locking with mine, pinning me in an icy gaze.
An alligator!
My shattered mind raced. No wonder there were so many bones.
Sassy Smit gripped the handles of the wooden rocker, her flesh prickling. She sat bolt upright, muscles trembling, sweating and cold with fear. Was that a scream? Someone yelling? She held her breath to listen, waited several seconds. Nothing. Sassy forced herself up, hobbled to the front door, and threw it open. She narrowed her eyes. The noise had come from across the swamp, from the old plantation house. She couldn’t see anyone. Caretakers came from time to time, keeping the place up, renovating, but they never stayed long—they didn’t dare.
Sassy shook her head, she could have sworn she heard a scream, and before that, the ruckus of a passing car or truck. But she couldn’t be sure. Her hearing wasn’t what it used to be, and she’d be damned if she would wear one of those hearing contraptions. She returned inside, and reached for the phone hanging on the wall underneath an outdated calendar. Sassy jerked her hand back and sighed. Better not, they’d probably take her away. Say she was too old to live alone anymore. No, she’d tend to her own business, finish her crossword puzzle and stitching.
Just her ancient ears playin’ tricks, that’s all it was. No need to get all tangled up. Her arthritic hands shook. Too bad they just didn’t burn the place down. Ashes to ashes, that’s what it needed, though she doubted it would do much good.
I stared into the alligator’s eyes, not daring to make any sudden movements. One snap and it would have me in its jaws, rolling over and over until my lungs burst. The creature stirred, moving awkwardly in the underwater current. My heart leapt. Something wasn’t right. The gator wriggled in the tide, flopping to one side, its intestines spilling out of its belly. Dead.
Kicking hard, I rose from the suffocating depths, gasping for air. Tears stung my eyes. How many times had I accused my mother of being careless and it was me who had lost Benny for good. Searching the water clogged with plants and muck, I wondered how long it would take for his little body to surface. Anger tightened my chest. I wouldn’t give up. I inhaled another deep breath, preparing to dive again, when I heard a faint giggle. Benny’s giggle. I spun around, hunting the bank for the source of the sound.
The giggle erupted again. There he was, to my right, nestled in a stand of cattails, clutching his blanket and waving his cup. How did he get there? He wasn’t even wet. I had seen him fall, had heard the terrible splash.
He got to his chubby feet. And took off again! I struggled to reach the shore, plants tangling around my legs like skeletal hands. Benny toddled through the grass.
“Benny. Wait!”
He turned around, grinned at me and took a sip from his cup. A few yards behind him, the grass whipped. Something else was coming, barreling through the thicket. No, please, not again! My feet touched bottom and I plodded to shore, fighting the wet muck sucking at my shoes. I bolted through the tall grass like a football player, lunging for my little brother. I snatched Benny into my arms.
Ahead, a huge black dog broke into the clearing, foam steaming from its massive jaws. It paused, head tilted to the side, studying us. Suddenly it lowered its muzzle and charged.
Frantically, I waded back into the bog with Benny. What was I doing? I couldn’t out-swim a mad dog with Benny in my arms. A scraggly tree grew in the middle of the pond. Its branches stuck out like the arms of a scarecrow. It wasn’t that far, I could wade to it and climb into the safety of its branches.
A shrill whistle pierced the air. The dog slid to a stop behind us, turned and loped toward a guy about my age riding a four-wheeler. He drove the ATV to the pond’s edge, killed the engine and hopped off. A golden tan offset his olive-black eyes, firm jaw and sun-streaked hair, which hung a little long in the front of his brow.
“Hi, I didn’t know anyone was here. Sorry if we scared you,” he said, eyeing me up and down with a strange look. “Wow...that must have been a miserable dip.” His voice was deep, his accent Southern with a hint of Cajun.
I slogged to shore with Benny squirming in my arms, stretching to reach the dog. The Boxer wagged its tail playfully and sniffed at Benny’s hand. Foamy drool ran from its mouth.
I jerked Benny’s arm back. “Your stupid dog tried to kill us, and my brother almost drowned. Don’t they have a leash law here in Hickville?”
The dog leapt forward and licked my foot. I glared at the Boxer. It gazed up at me with big liquid eyes, begging for a pet. Its tongue lolled to one side. I suddenly felt stupid. This dog was no killer.
The stranger patted the dog’s head. “It wasn’t Scooter. We just got here and besides, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“We’ll something chased us and…”
He frowned, took a step closer and plucked a long weed from my dripping hair. My checks burned. Earth, seriously—just swallow me now.
“Uh…thanks.”
“No problem.”
He picked up a stick in the brush and waved it in front of the dog’s nose. The Boxer sprang up and down, barking.
“Fetch!” The guy hurled the branch into the air.
Scooter tore after it. Benny squealed and kicked his legs, fighting to free himself from my arms. The Boxer retrieved the stick and dropped it at my feet. I grabbed the stick before Scooter could take it, and flung it near the pond. The dog slid to a stop at the water's edge, barking and whining to reach the object without getting his paws wet.
“That’s weird,” the guy said. “He usually loves the water.” He turned his attention to me. “So do you have any idea what they want done, or where I should start?”
I stared at him, water dripping off my nose like some kind of sea creature. “What do you mean?”
“I was supposed to mow the lawn. But it looks like I’ll have a ton of work to do first.” He frowned, studying the area. “Man, someone really let this place go.”
I took a step forward and tripped, barely catching myself. Not a big surprise. In my lifetime, I have managed to fall, stumble or trip practically every day. It's like I'm wearing an invisible pair of giant clown shoes or something. It's even worse when I'm nervous. My brain and my body are constantly at war, and they can't seem to come to any kind of agreement. Ever.
He returned his attention to me. “Are you with the real estate agency?”
“No, my mom and I are here to do research.” I didn’t want to get into the whole embarrassing ghost hunting deal.
“Cool! You guys must be the ghost hunters, right?” His eyes widened. “I’ve heard some pretty wild stories about this place.”
Darn. Word must have already spread about us coming. I bit my lower lip, hoping it was all good. I always lived with the fear that mom would get thrown in jail when the locals caught onto her scam.
“I could tell you so
me scary stories, but I guess you’ll find out soon enough on your own. Wouldn’t want to influence your findings. I’m Wolf Bodine, by the way.”
I frowned. “Your name is Wolf? Seriously?”
“Yep, short for Wolfgang.”
“As in Mozart?”
He nodded. “My mother is a classical pianist. So, lucky me.”
I smirked, thinking how my mother would love this flirty guy, with his unusual name and muscled body.
“I’m Dharma. I’d shake your hand but I’m a little disgusting right now.”
He glanced at the pond and shuddered. “Whatever made you dive in there must have been pretty scary.”
I nodded. “I thought Benny had fallen in and drowned.”
“Wow, glad he’s okay.” Wolf grabbed Benny’s foot. “Hi there, big guy.”
Benny giggled and kicked his legs.
“Sorry, he doesn’t talk yet,” I said. “At least not in English.”
Wolf surveyed the area. “Did you get a look at whatever it was that chased you?”
“No, but I heard it crashing through the brush and growling.”
“Might have been a black bear, or maybe even a cougar.”
“Maybe it was a bear, and as far as cougars go, my mother had already left for town by then.”
“Wow.” Wolf cracked a wide grin. “Your mom must really be something.”
“Oh, she’s something all right. Wait until you meet her…Just be careful, if you know what I mean.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Water dripped down my back and I shivered.
“I’ve got a towel and an extra T-shirt in my truck. I was going swimming later, but it’s getting late. I just stopped by to see what needs done and scout the area. Safer by four-wheeler than getting my rig stuck. Hop on and I’ll give you guys a ride.”
I hesitated for a moment then climbed onto the back, holding onto Benny and Wolf at the same time, thankful we wouldn’t have to walk through the weeds again. Scooter chased after us, barking and biting at the rubber tires. The cool breeze chilled my skin and I hugged Benny closer.
We roared past the iron gates toward the house. A black Chevy truck and trailer, with a riding mower strapped onto the trailer was parked in the driveway. My gaze shot to the ground, a habit from collecting rocks, always on the lookout for agates nesting in the gravel, when I noticed a weird rusty mark smeared across the top of my sandal. I wiggled my toes, testing for wounds I couldn't feel quite yet. They throbbed from where I’d tripped over the statue, but they weren’t bleeding. I frowned, staring at the ugly stain. The statue must have had a rusted metal base. Hopefully, it would come out.
We climbed off the four-wheeler and Wolf strode to the pickup. He reached inside the driver’s side window, then tossed me a towel and Harley-Davidson T-shirt. Benny played with the controls on the ATV while I dried off and slipped on the oversized shirt. The cotton warmed my frozen skin and smelled of spiced cedar.
This guy definitely fit the part of a biker. Black jeans, a matching shirt that said untamed as it stretched over his broad chest, and heavy leather boots. For a moment, I couldn't catch my breath, which is ridiculous because I don’t really like motorcycles. For starters, they’re noisy, especially if they have those big obnoxious pipes that amplify the sound. Plus, I get totally anxious when I see motorcyclists weaving in between cars or passing where it’s not safe. But, if I had a chance to ride on the back of a Harley with this guy—all my worries would melt away.
Wolf glanced at his watch. “It’s after five. I should go. I’ll leave the trailer out front and be back tomorrow.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Are you going to be okay here?”
I looked to the darkening sky. My mother obviously wasn’t coming back. It was cocktail hour and no doubt she was dining with the real estate agent. “I don’t suppose anyone gave you a key to the house, did they?”
“No, but I have some tools. I can get you inside. I’m pretty sure I can turn on the water so you can take a shower.”
“Thanks. That’d be great.”
He cocked his head and smiled. I noticed one of his front teeth had a slight chip in it, which only added more character to his smile. “Or,” he said with a wink, “we could just go to my place.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a pathetic squeak.
Wolf grinned. “It was a joke. Relax!”
I gave a fake laugh, which came out more like a lame snort, and watched as he walked to his pickup—hoping he hadn’t heard me.
Wolf reached into the truck bed and pulled out a toolbox. “I’ll pry open the door. Maybe we’ll find some cool stuff inside.”
I studied the house and frowned. “By the looks of it, the only thing we’re going to find is a corpse.”
Scooter emerged from the weeds on the side of the road and sniffed the grass near the front gate. His black coat glistened with moisture. Rain drizzled onto my head and I tilted my chin upward, letting the drops fall onto my face, hoping to wash away some of the disgusting stink from the pond.
Wolf tied the toolbox onto the back of the four-wheeler. “Let me put Scooter in the truck so he doesn’t get into trouble.” He whistled at the dog. Scooter ignored him, intent on sniffing around the gate. “Come on, boy!” Wolf called, but the Boxer headed back into the weeds.
“Well,” I laughed nervously. “Looks like you have a big future ahead of you as a dog trainer.”
Wolf smirked at Scooter as he climbed onto the ATV. “He's got a mind of his own, kinda like me. Guess that's why I put up with him.”
He started the engine and Benny jumped in my arms. I hugged him against me as we took off, plowing through the weeds. By the time we reached the front porch, rain hammered down on our heads. I raced up the rickety front steps with Benny bouncing in my arms. Paint peeled from the giant columns of the sagging wraparound porch. Weathered porch swings wedged under the bay windows creaked, rocking back and forth in the wind. The massive front door sported a red coat of paint, now faded like a withered valentine.
“Weird. Who would paint a door that color?” I asked.
“Southern superstition.”
“What do you mean?”
“Red is supposed to ward off evil spirits.” Wolf selected a long screwdriver from his toolbox, jimmied the lock and pushed the door open. I took a step inside, carrying Benny on my hip, and cringed. Mildew crawled up my nostrils, making my sinuses scream. I didn't know which smelled worse, me or the old house.
“Hold on,” Wolf said. “I’ll pry the boards off the windows. That’ll give us more light and...um...fresh air.”
My cheeks burned. “Yeah, Good idea.” I wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. If so, I expected the Grim Reaper to come swooping down at anytime and drag me into the shadowy underground, and if he had any sense at all, he'd be wearing nose plugs.
I sighed and spun in a semicircle, trying to make out the enormous foyer masked in darkness. Scooter pushed past me, his nails clicking across the old plank flooring.
“Geez dog, you’re brave.”
The Boxer paused and looked back at me with big soulful eyes. He trotted to my side, whined and licked my hand before continuing on into the shadows—almost as if saying goodbye. Like, so long, lady—nice knowing you. I wondered if it was true what people said about dogs being psychic.
A loud screech of nails and wood pulling apart pierced the room. Benny let out a startled cry. “Shhhh, it’s okay, Ben.” I pressed my lips to his head, watching muted daylight spill into the dingy entranceway.
Wolf waved at us through a dusty window, a board in his hand. Benny squealed and waved back. Wolf tossed the wood aside and continued ripping out the planks, flipping open the shutters. Rain drizzled over his head. He shook the moisture from his face and flashed a gleaming grin, his eyes bright. Playful.
Holy Adonis.
I stared, watching his muscles flex through his thin shirt, my insides dissolving like hot Jell-O. I quickly dropped my gaz
e. Who was I kidding? I knew I didn't have a chance with a guy like that.
I wandered through the foyer and into a large living room. Sheets covered the furniture like ghosts. Floral wallpaper, speckled with mold, clung to the walls. My nose tingled with the scent of old wood smoke and soot. Scanning the dingy room, I spotted the source of the smell. A yawning fireplace hugged a far wall, its gaping mouth smothered in cobwebs. Above the hearth, a marble mantle erupted in sinister looking cherubs. Their tiny blue eyes glared at me through a cloud of dust.
At the end of the room a hand-carved staircase spiraled into a graceful arch leading into more darkness, each step covered by a faded rose runner worn through at the front. I walked past a parlor filled with dusty books and more covered furniture, to a spacious kitchen. Grimy, nasty dish towels hung across the sink. Dead flies littered the oak floor. To the left, another arched doorway led into a massive dining room with towering sideboards and china thick with dust.
An antique painting of a family hung above another cavernous fireplace. A woman posed with two girls in high-waisted dresses, and a graying man stood behind them, wearing a blue suit, top hat and waistcoat. A gold plaque clung to the bottom of the frame. Cobb family, 1812. I cringed. If Mom’s information was right, the painting must have been done shortly before they died.
Wolf strode into the room, a hammer clutched in his right hand. His big motorcycle boots thudded across the plank flooring. He paused, wiped his brow and pointed to an antique mirror on the wall, its glass painted black. “Looks like someone didn’t like their reflection.”
I ran my fingers over the bumpy surface. “That’s creepy…More southern superstition?”
Wolf shrugged. “Nothing I’ve ever heard of.”
I followed him out of the dining room into the kitchen. He unlocked the back door and pushed the screen open. “I’ll head outside and see if I can find the switch for the water and electric.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, smearing a clean spot in the window with the heel of my hand. Outside, in the gloomy evening light, Wolf struggled through the thick vines to get to the side of the house.
River of Bones Page 2
