Quint Mitchell 01 - Matanzas Bay (27 page)

Strong hands tugged furiously at my ankles, trying to loosen my grip on the bush. I clenched it tighter, digging my other hand into the muddy ground, hoping to find some purchase there.

“What do you want?” I managed to quake, but received no response as my grip on the bush slipped. The pressure on my legs suddenly eased and I renewed my handhold on the bush. I turned my head to get a better look seeing only the dim outline of his legs in the dark. As I watched, I saw one thick leg rise over me before crashing into my stomach. All the air rushed from my lungs and I gagged. I also let go of the bush. The bouncing and scraping began again.

Gasping for breath, fighting the dizzying pain in my head, I again attempted to yank myself free. My legs suddenly flipped upwards in a tight embrace against the man’s chest. He hoisted me off the ground like I was chained to a pulley, and drove my head against the ground. I passed out again.

I awoke with a crash to find myself on the other side of a fence. Face down in a patch of damp earth, fetid smells assaulting my senses, I lay there feeling the throbbing pain radiating from my temple down through my arms and chest. All around me I heard the feral sounds of the denizens of the Alligator Farm. The shrieks of birds awakened by our intrusion into their sanctuary mixed with the grunts and cries of larger, more dangerous animals.

Afraid my tormenter would return, I rolled away from the fence. Pain coursed through my body with each movement, but I kept rolling over the marshy ground until I banged into a tree. I lay there holding my breath, praying he wouldn’t return to put me out of my misery.

My body worked against me, and I lost consciousness again. I awoke confused, wondering where I was. My head throbbed, white spots danced before my eyes. The sounds of the swamp brought all the painful memories back to me. I heard unnerving slithering nearby, the swishing of underbrush, a bubbling of water.

It took all my will power to raise my head, to concentrate on the shadows in the swamp edging closer and closer. Staring into the darkness, my vision shifted in and out of focus but I saw a beam of light tracking toward me. He was returning to finish me off.

I lay still hoping he wouldn’t see me by the tree. The flashlight beam swept the ground in front of me lighting up a small section of my world. Peering into the night, trying desperately not to make a sound, I saw multiple pairs of red eyes reflected in the passing light.

Urgent steps scurried in my direction, while ahead of me the swishing of powerful strokes sliced through the water. Dazed and shocked, I drifted into unconsciousness, unable to face the approaching beast—either the two-legged or four-legged variety.

A sound, perhaps a word, suddenly split the air, and in the haze enveloping me I struggled to decipher it. Again it reverberated, rising above the pounding in my head. A single word rang out, and filtered through into my battered brain.

“Quint.”

The voice belonged to my brother, summoning me. Andrew, is it really you? I wanted to touch the dolphin charm hanging around my neck, rub it like a talisman, pray it would whisk me away from danger. But I couldn’t move.

Something clamped down on my arm, yanking me roughly across the ground. The pain became unbearable and I groaned. For a moment, an image from the feeding frenzy returned to me. I saw much too clearly the open jaws of a twelve-foot alligator snapping over the raw meat, swallowing it whole. But this time the massive jaws were biting into my arm, pulling me deeper into the nightmare waters.

Mercifully, I lost consciousness again.

THIRTY-FIVE

In my nightmare, I saw myself dragged naked through the streets of St. Augustine. With one leg roped to the rear bumper of a pick-up truck driven by Bat Marrano, I skidded and scraped along the cobblestone lanes of the ancient city.

The old Klansman leaned out of the pick-up’s window and asked, “How you feeling there, hoss?”

Eyes open, head pounding. Still alive? I remembered being eaten by the alligators. Then the nightmare ride, and now Bat Marrano wanted to know how I felt. Squinting at a blurry shape floating above me, I shook my head to clear my fuzzy vision. Bad idea. Spasms of pain burst through my sinus cavity into my right temple.

“Oh, shit.” I closed my eyes, praying for sleep to return.

“Easy there.”

The voice was familiar, but in my woozy condition recognition hung just out of reach. I doubted Bat Marrano had returned from the grave to haunt me. Still, my pummeled brain wouldn’t make the connection.

“I’ll go find the nurse and let her know you’ve awakened from your nap.”

Nap? This clown had a real sense of humor. I groaned again, raising a hand to my head to tenderly finger a knot the size of a small plum beside my right ear. Gawd, my skull felt shattered.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Mitchell,” said a cheery voice.

I turned toward a large, round-faced woman with coppery-red hair pulled into a small bun on the back of her head. “It’s good to be back,” I managed to say.

She inspected my face for a long moment before picking up my wrist to feel my pulse. I lay there waiting to see if she found one.

“You’re a lucky man. If it hadn’t been for Sergeant Marrano here, I understand you’d be marinating in the digestive juices of some alligator’s stomach instead of enjoying our hospitality.” She seemed to find this more than a little amusing, and laughed aloud at her witticism.

“Where am I?”

“Flagler Hospital. I’m Nurse Wren, and you’ve had yourself quite a night.” She leaned in and gingerly lifted my eyelid. On her left cheek, a granulated mole, pale in the middle and rosy at the edges, caught the light like a third eye. Hovering over Nurse Wren’s shoulder, the blurry form of Sergeant Buck Marrano finally took shape.

I started to raise my hand to acknowledge Marrano’s presence and for the first time noticed the IV line in my arm.

“You’ve suffered a pretty nasty trauma, Mr. Mitchell,” the nurse said, pushing my arm back on to the bed. “The doctors were worried you may have a fracture or subdural hematoma,” she continued. “You don’t remember it, but you’ve already had a CT scan and fortunately it didn’t show signs of a TBI.”

I must have looked even more confused because she explained it for me.

“Traumatic Brain Injury. You have some bruising on your arms and chest, nothing serious, and several blunt traumas to the head.” She ran a finger over the lump by my eye and I jerked back.

“That one is definitely the worst, but you have another on this side of your head.” She touched it and I winced. “Bet they hurt like the dickens,” she said, flaunting her grasp of the medical lexicon.

“Hurts like hell.”

“Well, the doctor thinks you have a concussion so we need to watch you overnight. We gave you a quick sponge bath, but you’ll want to take a shower in the morning after we release you. But now I’m going to give you some Tylenol for the pain and drops for your eye.”

“I’m fi—” I started to say I’m fine and tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea gripped me and I closed my eyes, dropping back on to the cool pillow.

“Better listen to her, hoss. You don’t look so hot.” This time, there was no mistaking Marrano’s cracker twang.

I swallowed the tablets Nurse Wren gave me and let her place drops in my eye. When she left, Marrano eased himself onto the side of my bed.

“I guess I need to thank you for saving my life.”

“Kinda galls you, I’ll bet.”

“How’d you happen to be there?”

He hesitated a moment before answering, “You can thank your girlfriend.”

“Serena?”

“Do you have another girlfriend? Of course, it was Serena. When you didn’t phone by ten-thirty, she got worried and called.” He gazed over my shoulder as if he’d sighted a bug crawling up the wall. Turning back to me, he said, “I happened to be available and not too far from the Alligator Farm. Lucky for you I got there when I did. Saw your car in the parking lot, and spotted the door hanging open, so I came looking for you.”

I remembered hearing my name called. “That must have been you yelling for me.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t bother to answer so I kept looking. Had my flashlight with me so I wouldn’t step into a nest of critters.”

Marrano studied my face, turning his head from side to side apparently examining my injuries. “You look like pure-n-tee shit,” he finally said.

“Thanks. That’s how I feel, too.”

“Anyway, I found you spread out like the main course on a cruise ship buffet. Whoever did this must have had some muscle, cause he lifted you over a fence and dropped you into the Alligator Lagoon. I’m not saying I got there in the nick of time, but them ol’ boys were drawing straws to see who got the first helping. I almost felt bad taking away their midnight snack.”

“Sorry if I upset the balance of nature.”

“Feel like answering some questions?”

“I don’t remember much, to be honest, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay awake.”

“We’ll keep it short, but I have to ask if you have any idea who did this. You know the drill by now.”

I told him about finding the note on my windshield. How I arrived to an empty parking lot and waited for someone to make an appearance. “He must have been hiding behind the hedge. Sorry, I didn’t get a look at his face. Dark clothes, hoodie. He creamed me fast and I went out. I remember being dragged, but that’s about it.”

Marrano stared at my eye again. “Could be a sap.”

“I was definitely a sap for going out there alone.”

“Not that kind of sap.” Marrano smiled in amusement. “A blackjack. Leather-covered weapon filled with lead shot. Delivers a blow that will take a man out and leave a nasty lump. Some of the old lawmen carried them, but that was before we became more concerned about the criminal’s rights than the victim’s. Now, anyone can buy them online.”

“Well, I got sapped in the eye, and then kicked in the head and stomach for good measure.” I didn’t bother to mention the pile driver trick.

“What about the note?”

“The note?”

“Do you still have the note he left on your car?”

I reached toward my pocket before realizing I was wearing a hospital gown. “In my jeans. Left front pocket.”

Marrano went to the closet and pulled out a pair of mud-encrusted jeans. He dug around in the left pocket, and then the right. After searching all of the pockets, he tossed the jeans back into the closet. “Note’s gone. Perp must have taken it before he scooted.”

“Sorry I can’t be of more help,” I mumbled, feeling myself slipping away. Then I remembered my revolver. “Did you find my gun in the parking lot?”

“No. What kind was it?”

“Smith and Wesson thirty-eight, Model 40. Guess he took that, too.”

“Probably, but I’ll go back in the morning and see what I can find.”

Marrano peered at me with an indecipherable expression. Was he hiding something?

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe you’ll remember something after you get some rest. Oh, I had one of the patrolmen drive your car over. It’s downstairs in the lot. Keys are in the nightstand drawer.”

***

I drifted in and out of a restless sleep over the next three hours. Nurse Wren awakened me twice to be sure I was still breathing, and I lapsed into a serial dream involving playing hide-and-seek with dozens of predatory red eyes. They lurched forward, surrounding me, moving closer and closer. I awoke with a thundering headache and a terrible urge to piss. Both needed instant relief, but I decided to tend to my bladder first. Carefully easing myself toward the edge of the bed, I grabbed the IV stand and pulled myself to my feet. I rolled the stand toward the open door of the bathroom, my gown flapping open behind me.

My tongue tasted like I’d licked the scum from the bottom of the alligator’s pond. After relieving myself, I dipped handfuls of water from the tap and swished it around in my mouth. Slowly, I raised my head and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Not a pretty sight. Streaks of red oozed from the outside corner of my right eye and marched across the sclera in shaky lines. The puffy lid displayed the dark beginnings of a black eye.

Returning to the bed, I pulled the covers over me, suddenly cold, my arms and legs going numb. I hugged myself trying to warm my limbs, stop the shivering shaking my body. I didn’t need to be a psych major to know the shivers had nothing to do with the hospital’s air conditioning. They were a result of my near-death experience.

I had no idea why someone tried to kill me. Sure, I’d been poking around and asking a lot of questions, but few answers had been forthcoming. At least nothing particularly germane to Marrano’s death. Somehow, though, I must have hit a nerve and came too close, but too close to who? Too close to what?

Sometimes there were no answers to the violence that’s become an unfortunate fact of life these days. Daily headlines bring frightening stories of random violence and the sad state of the human species. Terrorists plotting another 9/11 style attack was one thing, but today’s violence was even scarier. It didn’t seem to matter where you were—church, school, mall, or even in a court room—there was no safe haven.

Instead of dwelling on those unsettling images, I turned my thoughts to Serena. She called the police and Buck Marrano came to the rescue. They saved my life, and even if Marrano called her back, I knew she must be worried sick.

I sat up and ran a hand behind me until I found a cord for the fluorescent light above the bed. Turning it on, I ripped the adhesive from my arm and extracted the IV needle before checking the bedside table for my watch and car keys. I grabbed them both, slipping on the watch and noting the time—3:42. This probably wasn’t the smartest decision I’d ever made, but something urged me toward the closet where I pulled out my dirty clothes and put them on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nurse Wren must have seen the light in my room. Her sturdy form blocked the door, bulky arms entwined across her chest, daring me to make a move.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I have to get going now.”

“Mr. Mitchell, the doctor will be making rounds in a few hours, why don’t you wait until he releases you? A concussion is not to be taken lightly. You need rest, and we need to monitor your symptoms to be sure—”