“Gotta be,” said Theodosia. “And because we’ve been skeptical about the fire, too.”
“But we’re not even
“I’m guessing,” said Theodosia, “that we’ve got more pieces than we think we do.” She quickly told Drayton about the fire marshal’s direct line of questioning and how Angie’s sister had come after her last night like a rabid dog. Had left her standing in the lobby of the Bogard Inn feeling stupid and guilty and still clutching Mark’s box of junk.
“The fact remains,” said Drayton, after he’d listened to all Theodosia had said, “we didn’t
“Somehow we’ve touched on something, an important clue,” said Theodosia. “We just haven’t been able to put two and two together.” She shook her head, frustrated, still shaken from their escape and headlong plunge, feeling more than a little angry. “I don’t know . . .”
They sat for a few minutes, pondering their harrowing escape from the river, wringing out clothes, examining their various bumps and bruises. Then Drayton pulled himself into a seated position. “Where’s the canoe?” he asked in a funny, high-pitched voice.
Theodosia waved an arm. “Gone. Probably still shooting down the river like a runaway bobsled.” The image of Parker’s silver canoe sluicing through the rapids all by itself, the notion that they were finally safe after being shot at, then plunging down a twenty-foot waterfall, caused her to choke out a strangled laugh.
Drayton wobbled his head toward her. “You can’t seriously see humor in any of this, can you?”
Theodosia lifted her shoulders and rotated them, trying to loosen the knot of tension in the back of her neck. “Look at it this way,” she said. “You’ve been hankering for a little break.”
“A break in my
“What?”
“This jacket is definitely not waterproof.”
Amazingly enough, they located the canoe some fifty yards down stream. It had hung up on a fallen tree and remained securely wedged there.
“We’re in luck,” announced Theodosia. “We’ve also got paddles, baskets, your hat, and a plastic thermos of tea. Everything’s a little bedraggled but still functional, I guess.”
“But how on earth are we going to get out of here?” asked Drayton. He gazed upstream at the pounding waterfall. It looked majestic, but lethal. “We certainly can’t go back the same way we came.”
Theodosia’s brain was finally beginning to fire again on all eight cylinders. “First we’ll wade in and get the canoe and stuff,” she suggested. “We’re already wet so what’s another dunking? We can probably just kind of walk it across the river to this bank. See . . . the stream isn’t that deep here and the current slows way down.”
“Then what?” said Drayton. “I hope you don’t expect us to carry the canoe out of here. Or make a portage, as they say in voyageur-speak. It could be miles back to where we started.”
Clambering up the rocks and onto solid ground, Theodosia pushed through clumps of horse nettle and ventured a few yards into the woods.
“Whoa,” said Drayton, scrambling after her. “Kindly wait for me.”
He found her, hands on hips, studying the ground.
“We’re in luck,” she told him.
Drayton cocked an eyebrow. “We could use some.”
“There was a road here at one time. See?” Theodosia pointed at two muddy ruts that were still faintly visible through the high grass. “All we have to do is follow this trail out, find the Jeep, then drive back here and pick up the canoe.”
“Oh, that’s all, is it?” said Drayton. “You make it sound like a wonderful romp in the park. Pardon me while I fetch my umbrella and picnic hamper.”
Theodosia turned toward Drayton with sympathetic eyes. “Tell you what, why don’t you hold down the fort right here. I’ll jog back and try to locate the Jeep. Then I’ll drive back here and pick up you and the canoe.”
“Not on your life,” said Drayton, squaring his shoulders. “After all we’ve been through today, we’re sticking together!”
After the dousing they’d experienced, it felt almost pleasant to wander along the old trail with the sun shining down on their backs. Birds twittered in the trees, the scenery was nothing if not spectacular, and their clothes and lightweight baskets dried out with every step they took.
“Nobody would believe what we’ve just been through,” said Drayton. “A veritable comedy of errors.” He thought for a moment. “Or maybe a tragedy of errors, if there is such a thing.”
“Whatever you choose to call it,” said Theodosia. “None of this was any fault of our own.” Then she reconsidered her words. “
“Yipes!” exclaimed Drayton, suddenly jumping back and grabbing her arm in a viselike grip.
“What?”
“Snake,” he said in a low voice.
Theodosia stood stock-still for a few seconds, then finally worked up the courage to peer down at the ground. “Uh... where?”
No quick motions for Drayton; he kept his arms clamped tight against his body. “Right where that tall grass is parting slightly,” he told her in hushed tones.
“Did you see any markings?” Theodosia asked nervously. She hadn’t seen the creature, but that didn’t mean the snake wasn’t nearby, ready to pounce or coil or whatever it was snakes got in their head to do.
“There were brownish bands. Yes, I’m quite sure they were a chestnut-olive shade,” said Drayton. “Or maybe dun-colored. Or umber.”
“Easy, Drayton,” said Theodosia in a low voice. “We’re trying to identify a snake, not pick a paint sample.”
Drayton nodded tightly. “Right. Of course.” He was obviously nervous and his teeth were just this side of chattering.
“What about the nose?” asked Theodosia. “Pointy or blunt-nosed?”
“What’s the difference again?”
“Pointy is nonvenomous and . . .”
“Blunt-nosed is the bad guy,” finished Drayton.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Drayton turned slightly to face her. “While we’ve been standing here like frightened ninnies, pondering its coloration and physiognomy, Mr. Snake has slithered off on his merry way. Leaving us to wonder just what his intentions might have been.”
“Whew,” said Theodosia. She made a broad gesture of wiping her brow, like a cartoon character would. “Freaky.”
“Terrifying,” agreed Drayton.
They continued their trudge down the trail. What had been woods and a little bit of meadowland had now turned more forested and swampy.
“Getting boggy,” said Theodosia as her shoes squished unpleasantly in the mud.
“I hope we don’t lose this trail,” worried Drayton.
“As long as we keep the sun at our back we should be okay,” replied Theodosia as frogs and katydids chirped at them, unseen.
“Do you have your trusty compass?”
“Uh . . . no,” responded Theodosia. “I think it flew out of my shirt pocket when we went through that final spin cy-cle.” She knew she was lucky to have the clothes on her back. And luckier still that she’d left her car keys behind, tucked under the floor mat of her Jeep.
“Good heavens,” exclaimed Drayton. He stopped, took a hesitant step, frowned, then halted again.
Nervous about the possibility of another snake sighting, Theodosia glanced about, wondering what had
