If the money was about buying drugs and planting them in Clayton’s truck, didn’t seventy-three hundred seem like total overkill? Wouldn’t a thousand bucks be enough to get Clayton arrested—and away from Maria for a long, long time?
Parker’s heart beat out its own warning now. Or maybe it was the fact that he knew this was way too much money for the drug idea. It seemed like the right amount of money to hire some brute named Guido to do a little job, though. But that couldn’t be right. Not his dad. There had to be another answer that had nothing to do with illegal drugs or shady hit men.
Dad, what are you doing with this?
But the important thing was, the money was still here. Parker didn’t have to wake Dad up to tell him what he’d been up to. Not yet. And as long as the money stayed put, Dad wasn’t putting himself in any danger.
What are you planning, Dad? And how can I keep you from doing it?
Parker could hide the money someplace else. Lock it inside a desk drawer and lose the key. But what if Dad checked the gator’s throat in the morning, just to be sure the money was safe? If the money was gone, Parker would be the first one he’d question. Maybe the right thing to do was to just tell Dad he’d purposely listened in on the conversation with Uncle Sammy.
Parker restacked the money, put it in the envelope, and picked up the scrap of paper. The phone number was the key. If Parker dialed it, maybe he’d find out exactly what Dad planned to do. Then Parker could come up with a plan to stop him.
He rummaged in the drawer for scratch paper and jotted down the number. The last four digits were 4033. He stared at it for a moment and smiled.
Parker didn’t have to hide the money in a different spot. All he had to do was make sure Dad never connected up with the contact person. And that would be easy. Parker grabbed a black pen to match the ink on the scrap of paper. He shook his hand and flexed his fingers. Then he turned the two threes into eights.
You are a genius, Parker! He slipped the paper back in with the money, stretched the rubber bands around it, and stood on the chair.
He placed the bundle deep into the throat of the alligator skull—and felt his phone vibrate. He jerked his hand away from the alligator, knocking out the support dowel in the process. Gravity did the rest. The jaws snapped shut around his scarred forearm.
“Ahhhhh!” How loud had he just said that? He lifted the jaw open with his good hand, eased his arm out, and set the prop back in place. Prickles shot up and down his arm in waves. He stood there, rubbing his forearm down, staring into the black eye sockets of the monster. Wilson would say it was a sign. That it was some kind of warning that Parker was still under that Miccosukee curse of the Everglades. Which was ridiculous.
Get out of here, Parker. You’ve been in Dad’s office way too long.
Parker swung the chair in place and scanned the room to be sure everything was just as he found it.
His phone vibrated again.
Jelly.
Whatever was on her mind at this hour would have to wait a few minutes. Right now, he had to get out of here. He flicked off his flashlight, grabbed the pillow from the floor, and tiptoed back out into the darkened hallway.
He’d found the cash—and by changing the phone number, he just might have saved his Dad and Uncle Sammy from making a mistake. He crawled onto his bed and flopped on his back. He pulled out his phone, but hesitated before checking Jelly’s text. He pictured the alligator skull—the way it had chomped down on his arm. The arm. Freak coincidence? Or was it a sign? An omen? Was God warning him to steer clear of this whole thing? Sometimes God used mysterious ways to keep people on the right paths . . . or off wrong ones.
He kicked back. Hiked up his knees. Pulled out his phone and read Jelly’s text.
You awake?
Parker smiled and texted back. He couldn’t wait to tell her about finding the money. But not tonight. He’d wait until he could see her face. And that wasn’t the type of thing he’d chance texting about anyway.
Had an awful blowup with Maria.
Not good. He texted back. Is she okay?
Parker tried to picture the two of them arguing, but it just didn’t fit. They were close. Always had been—especially after their mom walked out. Never in a million years would he have figured a bozo like Kingman could get between them. Poor Jelly . . . this thing was putting her through the wringer.
He stared at the screen. Why hadn’t she responded?
Jelly?
Nothing. For what seemed like a full minute. Maybe she was talking to Maria again.
No. She’s not okay. She’s been messed up ever since she started with Clayton. Thanks for asking how I am.
Great. Sorry. How are you?
Nice try. But a little late.
Oh, C’mon, Jelly. Really. How are you?
Forget it. Go back to sleep.
He waited to see if she’d break down and send something anyway. She could be stubborn, but he was pretty determined too. Tell me about the fight.
He waited a full minute this time.
Is she on to us?
Still nothing. But she was following the texts. He was sure of that. There was no way she turned off her phone. Okay, maybe he’d toss her a carrot. Draw her out. Found out something about the other situation. Really great news, actually.
The little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen. “Got you, Jelly. I knew you couldn’t resist.”
Good for you.
He stared at the screen. “What is going on with you?” Look, I’m sorry, okay?
Yeah. It sounds like it.
What was her problem? Let’s talk. Can I call? He could tell her about finding the money. So what if he didn’t see her face. Maybe that would get her out of the funk she was in.
He watched the screen. She was taking her sweet time answering.
Not tonight.
He read it over again in some kind of stunned disbelief. She’d never turned down a call. Ever. Yeah, it’s kinda late. Let’s hang out tomorrow morning. Talk then.
Maybe.
Maybe? What was wrong with her? Obviously, she wasn’t in a good place, and he couldn’t pull her out of it with texting. He had to back away before he made things worse—if that were possible.
Okay. I hope you get some good sleep. Hopefully she’d wake up on the right side of the bed, too.
This is Angelica you texted. I think you must have sent that last message to me by mistake.
What? He reread what he’d just sent. Who else would I text that to?
Maria. She’s the only one you really care about, right?
Terrific. Now she was resorting to exaggeration—and making shock statements. “You’re being a drama queen, Jelly. But I’m not taking the bait.” Don’t be stupid.
Just the opposite. I’m finally wising up.
“Girls are insane.” Parker wished he’d never answered her text. How did this get so messed up? “You know what? I’m not going to play your games.” He tossed the phone on the nightstand next to his bed.
What did Jelly want from him? Wasn’t he trying to help her save her sister? How could she think Parker didn’t care about Jelly herself? Maybe he’d talk to her tomorrow.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d wait until she called him.
He rolled onto one side and settled in. Balled up the extra pillow and tucked it under his arm like a football. What he really needed to do was forget about the conversation with Jelly. Forget about Maria. Forget everything and just get some sleep. He’d sort things out in the morning.
But telling a guy with nearly perfect recall to forget was like telling an alligator to let go of an arm once the beast had locked onto it. It wasn’t likely to happen.
Parker pictured the skull in the office again, with the jaws closed on his arm. Maybe it was some sort of warning. Maybe not. But deep inside he got the feeling that no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, this whole thing was going to come back and bite him somehow.
CHAPTER 35
/> PARKER DIDN’T TEXT JELLY THURSDAY—or Friday. He avoided her at school the best he could. His strategy was simple. Ignore her—and she’d break the ice. She’d come around eventually, telling him how ridiculous she’d been. The problem was, his strategy wasn’t working.
Saturday morning Parker biked to the Boy’s Bomb ten minutes after Dad left for work. He needed to clear his head. The weirdness with Jelly bothered him a whole lot more than Maria’s problems right now. She hadn’t said a single word to him since the texts Wednesday night.
Fine. He was done. She’d contact him when she was ready. He didn’t need the drama.
The problem was, he really wanted to talk to her. If nothing else, just to hear how well the texts to “Kayla” had worked. He wasn’t ready to march in a victory parade just yet, but still, his crazy plan of keeping Maria away from Kingman seemed to be working so perfectly it was almost spooky.
But really, the genius plan only dealt with half of the problem. Sure, he’d kept Maria and Kingman apart, but what about the part about her seeing him for who he really was?
He locked his bike to a support beam under Smallwood’s Store and walked the rest of the way to the boat. If all went well, tonight Kingman would slither his way to Gator Hook Trail thinking he’d meet Maria there. What would Kingman do when Maria didn’t show? Would he give up on her for good? Or would he figure out that this had all been a scheme to keep them apart? If Maria caught wind of that, she and Jelly would likely have a regular WWE SmackDown. And what would Parker do next? How could he keep Kingman away from Maria again?
Parker stowed his backpack in the boat.
Wilson showed up minutes later. He locked his bike and hustled over. “Just the two of us?”
Parker shrugged. “You tell me. Jelly hasn’t said a word to me in almost three days.”
Wilson looked back at the road leading to Smallwood’s. “I thought I had her talked into it. Maybe I read her wrong.”
“Join the club.”
Wilson laughed and kicked off his shoes. “What she needs is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That always makes her feel better.”
It would take a whole lot more than that. Parker untied the bow line from the cypress tree, screwed the transom plug in place, and together they dragged the boat into shallow water.
Minutes later they were tooling into Chokoloskee Bay. Parker glanced back more than once, hoping Jelly would be on shore, waving them down. Wilson sat in the front with his back to the bow and his arms slung over the sides, catching spray.
“So what’s the latest from Jelly?” Parker tried to make it sound casual. Like he didn’t really care.
“Good news, bad news.” Wilson sat up. “As far as Jelly knows, your little scheme worked. Maria and Kingman haven’t been together. Not once.”
Just as he’d hoped. “And the bad?”
Wilson looked off at the islands dotting the bay. “Maria is acting totally bizarro.”
Parker looked at him. “Bizarro?”
Wilson shrugged. “Taking chances. Doing crazy things.”
“Like?”
“Like the real Maria has been abducted by aliens, and the girl living in their house is just a Maria look-alike. Wednesday night she opened up her dad’s truck on the bridge like it was a drag strip. Raced one way, then turned around and raced back. Kept doing it until the cops showed up. They clocked her at 105. Jelly snapped a picture of the ticket and showed me the image.”
“A hundred and five miles per hour? Maria?”
“Thursday Maria snuck out of the house sometime after midnight—but not to see Kingman. She hitched a ride to the Rod and Reel Club and tried to buy alcohol. At seventeen. A cop drove her home—and told her dad.”
“Seriously?” Nobody in her family drank. Not Uncle Sammy. Not Maria’s mom.
“I say Maria is paying her dad back for busting them up.”
That theory actually made sense. “She’s liable to kill herself in the process.”
Wilson draped one hand over the side of the boat, catching spray. “I think she’s got a death wish, man.”
“Suicide? No way. Maria isn’t that stupid.” At least she never used to be.
“Offing herself would be the ultimate way to hurt her dad, though, don’t you think?”
“She’s too smart for that.”
“Smart?” Wilson snorted. “She was dating Kingman, remember? And last night she put a brick through the glass door at the Subway. She reached in, unlocked the door, and actually went inside. Does that sound smart to you?”
Wilson left the question hanging there. But at this point Parker was still trying to picture Maria busting the window.
“She made herself a sandwich.” Wilson laughed. “The cops found her sitting at a table chowing on a foot-long Italian like nothing was wrong. She didn’t even try to get away. This time they took her to the station and her dad had to post bail.”
Parker stared at him. “Unreal. She’s totally off the map.” He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: Maria’s insane stunts, or the fact that Jelly hadn’t broken radio silence to talk to him about it. Actually he did know. What had gotten into Jelly?
Wilson dragged one hand in the water. “I like her creativity. I mean, hey, I’m kind of looking forward to what she’s going to do tonight—unless she goes and gets herself killed.”
Parker had no idea how Wilson could be so casual about the whole thing. “At least she’s not with Kingman. With any luck she’ll wise up and stay away.”
Wilson splashed a handful of water at Parker. “I told you, she’s stupid. And if you ask me, she’s more head over heels about the wacko than ever. She’s becoming a total nutcase herself.”
When Maria used to babysit years earlier, she was the closest thing to perfect that Parker had ever known. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she’d look at him when he talked to her. She got him. He had never known a girl could be so fascinating. And magnetic. Something drew him to her. He couldn’t explain it then, and wouldn’t now. She was nothing short of an angel. Now she was acting like she was possessed. How could Kingman mess with her head that much? Or maybe he’d had the wrong picture of Maria all along.
Parker eased back on the throttle and cut the engine. The wind was light in the bay. Smallwood’s Store and the landing were long out of sight, but Parker knew exactly where they were. He grabbed his lunch and tossed Wilson the other bag. “At least Kingman will be busy tonight—waiting for her at Gator Hook Trail. By the time he figures out she’s not coming, it will be too late for them to meet some other way.”
“How are we going to keep them apart after tonight?” Wilson eyed him.
“If she’s so in love with the moron,” Parker said, “how much can we really do?” He hated to admit it, but facts were facts. Maria seemed determined to be with Kingman, and would likely keep doing risky things until she got her way.
Wilson nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to let this go.” He scanned the bay for a long moment. “You haven’t looked at a chart once. You know your way back?”
Parker gave the area a quick scan. Funny how he noticed the little unique features of so many of the islands—and could remember how they fit on the chart like a jigsaw puzzle. “Yeah, I know the way.”
“That memory of yours is freaky,” Wilson said. He settled back. “But it comes in pretty handy out here.”
Actually, today he wished his memory wasn’t quite so sharp. Then maybe he could forget that Jelly wasn’t talking to him—and that Maria was in love with a guy as dangerous as Kingman. Maybe he could stop worrying about the fact that Dad and Uncle Sammy had something planned that could go bad—if Parker’s number-changing strategy failed somehow. And maybe if Parker had a little temporary amnesia, he wouldn’t be so uneasy about Kingman figuring out who was behind the tires and texts. If his memory was a little sketchy, he wouldn’t be thinking about Kingman—and how a sick guy like him would get his payback. Actually, Parker’s super memory wasn’t doing him a bit
of good today. Right now, what he’d really like to do? Forget.
CHAPTER 36
PARKER DIDN’T PULL THE DRAIN PLUG from the transom of the Boy’s Bomb after they got back and hauled the skiff up onto the beach. Normally he would, but leaving the plug in place was his little way of making sure he’d have to come back to the boat later. Hopefully he’d take it for another ride while he was at it. Maybe Jelly would be over whatever was bothering her by that time and she’d come with.
It seemed like forever since he’d heard her laugh. A ride in the boat would do her good. It would definitely do him some good to be with her, too.
He biked back to the house after Wilson left. Dad’s pickup was gone. Parker grabbed a step stool from the kitchen for a little extra height, and gave the throat of the alligator skull a visual check.
The bundle was still there.
Good. Since Maria hadn’t been seeing Kingman in the last few days, maybe Dad and Uncle Sammy were holding off from setting their plan in motion. What if whatever they had planned would put Dad’s transfer at risk?
Parker hustled to the kitchen and snacked on a pack of frozen Twinkies, a handful of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a chocolate shake. Actually, it was just chocolate milk that he’d shaken good before filling his glass. He slurped off the foamy bubbles on top.
He scrolled through the texts between him and Jelly again. The ones from Wednesday—when things all fell apart. She claimed she was “wising up” in her last text. And she’d been acting stupid ever since.
He read them again. And then he saw it. What if she wasn’t being a drama queen? What if she really believed what she’d said?
“She honestly believes I care more about Maria than I care about her?” Hearing his own voice made him even more sure that was exactly why Jelly was so mad.
How could she think that? He reread the texts. Thought back on when she asked him why he was doing what he was doing. What had he answered her? Something about Kingman being a jerk—and how he needed to keep Kingman away from Maria. And he definitely said he wanted to help Maria. But did he say anything about the one thing that was really driving him? That Jelly was hurting—and he knew it—and he wanted to help her?
Escape from the Everglades Page 17
