Part 25 (1/2)

She did and we trundled off, still following the muddy track we were on and hoping it would lead back to civilization. I was trembling so bad that it took both hands to hold the light beam steady enough to light our way. It didn't help that the track was unpaved and ungraveled and the trees so close that it was like being in a tunnel.

We hit a b.u.mp on a little rise, then swooped down the other side and wallowed through a creek bed. Etta Mae was crouched over the wheel, urging us onward, still whimpering with each breath. Finally, after bucking over more b.u.mps and slewing through the muddy patches, the trees on each side began to thin out and I could see a white rail fence running alongside of us.

”We're almost there,” I said, and almost lost the flashlight when Etta Mae ran over a rock that tilted the cart to one side.

We both screamed, thinking we were rolling over, but the little cart righted itself and Etta Mae gave it the gas again.

Gradually, darker shadows began to loom out of the general blackness, so I dared to sweep the light around to see where we'd come out.

”Slow down, Etta Mae. I think that's the pool house over there. If you swing out around it, the garage should be diagonally across the lawn.”

”Yeah, okay,” she said, her voice quavering. ”Okay, I just want to get somewhere safe.”

”Look!” I cried. ”Look over there.” Some ways off, a moving glow lit up the garage, throwing into relief the huge bulk of the house and dimly illuminating the pool house, which we were pa.s.sing. ”It's the Jeep coming back. Hurry, Etta Mae, we've got to tell somebody about that dead man.”

”Yeah, gotta hurry,” she panted, then sideswiped a bush, overcorrected and almost ran into the rail fence. The golf cart stalled out, leaving us sideways of the fence, while Etta Mae whimpered some more and cranked the thing again.

Just as the motor started, she let out a blood-curdling shriek, levitated from her seat and stomped on the gas. The cart sc.r.a.ped along the fence with Etta Mae yelling, ”Something's after us! Oh, Lord, it touched me!”

The cart bounced on and off the fence until Etta Mae gave it a hard turn to the right, almost throwing me out. Scared out of my wits, I screamed along with her and grabbed her with both hands, letting go of the flashlight. I saw it tumble to the ground, flinging the beam out into the pasture-not the way we were going. Horses thundered away from the fence, but I was too busy holding on and screaming to think of anything but getting to the garage, where there were lights and people and safety from whatever had followed us.

The cart careened across the lawn, bounded up onto a paved surface, struck a patio chair, and came to an abrupt halt. It teetered for a second, rocking back and forth, until the nose slowly tipped over and we hit the water.

The little cart began to sink as water flooded the floorboard and climbed into our laps. ”Get out, Etta Mae!” I yelled, scrambling to get myself out. The raincoat billowed out around me as I leaned into the water, thankful for the doorless cart, and started dogpaddling to the edge of the pool.

”Help!” Etta Mae screamed. ”I can't swim!” She thrashed around on the other side of the cart, flinging water everywhere and getting nowhere fast.

”I'm coming, I'm coming!” I was paddling as fast as I could, but sinking just as fast. Grabbing the cart to pull my way around to Etta Mae before she drowned, my foot touched the bottom of the pool.

”We're in the shallow end!” I cried, relief flooding my soul. ”Stand up, Etta Mae, we can walk out.”

I finally pulled my way around the cart to reach her, and together we made our way to the underwater steps and climbed out, drenched to the skin.

”Oh, my Lord,” she said, leaning over and gasping for breath, ”I thought I'd killed us both.”

”No, I think we're saved. Somebody's coming.” I pointed to two flashlight beams bobbing toward us.

”Waites! Is that you?” Ardis's voice carried easily across the back lawn.

”No,” I called back. ”It's us.”

Ardis and Carl came running up, and Etta Mae, sopping wet, flung herself onto Ardis, sobbing, ”I broke it or drowned it or something. We'll never get it out, and I'll never be able to pay for it.”

”We'll fix it, little girl, whatever it is,” Ardis said. ”Don't you worry. What're you doing out here anyway?”

”Searching,” Etta Mae said. She pushed back her wet hair and pointed at the swimming pool. ”We've been all over the place in that golf cart and something chased us and licked me on my neck and I got so scared, I drove it into the pool, and I guess I ruined it.”

”And,” I added, ”we borrowed your big flashlight because the go-cart didn't have lights. I dropped it when Etta Mae lost control, so she couldn't help driving into the pool-we couldn't see a thing.”

”My Maglite?”

”Well, yes, and I thank you for the use of it.” I think his eyes rolled back in his head, but it was too dark to tell.

Carl swung the beam of his flashlight around and centered it on the canvas roof of the golf cart-the only part visible. It looked like one of those floats that women lie on to sunbathe.

”Oh, shoot!” Carl said, except he used a different word that revealed his poor breeding. ”Agnes is not gonna like this.”

That just tore me up. Here we'd been driving half blind, found a hanged man, been chased by some dark creepy thing and come near to drowning, and all he could think of was what Agnes would or wouldn't like.

”Well, here's something else she won't like,” I said, wringing out my skirttail. ”There's a half-naked, tattooed dead man hanging from the rafters in a shack back in the woods. We couldn't get in to cut him down, but somebody better get down there.”

”Oh,” Carl said, shrugging his shoulders. ”That's just Darren. He's doing a suspended meditation. I hope you didn't disturb him.”

”Disturb him! We couldn't get a twitch out of him. I think he's meditated himself right out of his body. For all we know, it was his spirit that was after Etta Mae.”

”Oh, don't say that,” Etta Mae said, snuggling closer to Ardis.

”But,” I went on to Carl, ”if you're not concerned about him and if he's doing it to himself, then good luck to him. But he's in bad shape and somebody ought to see to him. And I'll tell you this,” I said, pointing my finger at him, ”if Agnes didn't want go-carts in her pool, she should've turned on the yard lights and kept them on. And you can tell her I said so.”

Turning to Ardis, I asked, ”What did you find out about Adam? Did Nellie know what happened to him?”

Ardis held Etta Mae with one arm and with the other hand, a flashlight-a normal-sized one, not the great long one he used in the line of duty because it was still lighting up the horse pasture-and it cast a dim glow around us. He shook his head. ”She said she watched him fix the generator, then she offered him a snack. From the sound of it, they maybe had a little party and she tried to get him to spend the night. She's a bold one, all right-shameless, even-but he turned her down. She got mad and went to bed. And that's all she knows.”

”You mean he's still out here somewhere! And n.o.body knows anything? What're we going to do?” I'd finished wringing out my dress and started on my hands, just torn up over our failure to rescue Adam.

”Well, first I'm gonna get my Maglite, then get you ladies back to the truck, call in the sheriff and wait for help,” Ardis said. ”That's my advice.”

I didn't particularly like his advice, but I didn't know what else to do. So we trudged back across the lawn, stepping over and occasionally into flower beds that lined the walkway. I was miserable in my wet clothes, which were clinging to me in embarra.s.sing ways-a raincoat isn't much help when you drive into a swimming pool. And miserable, also, because we had not found Adam. We'd looked all over creation, except ...

”Sheriff McAfee?” I said, using a formal address in case he was less than happy with me for appropriating his precious Maglite. He nodded to indicate he was listening, as we swerved to avoid a birdbath. ”We haven't looked in the barn. Adam could be in there, in a stall or something. And,” I went on, ”n.o.body's searched the house, either.”

”He's not in the house,” Carl snapped. ”n.o.body goes in the house without Agnes knowing it.”

That was interesting. Because if she knew that's where he was, it was no wonder she'd been so rude and dismissive of our search.

I opened my mouth to snap back at Carl, but Ardis intervened. ”Let's get you ladies settled, and I'll search the barn. We'll leave the house for the sheriff.” Then, in that easy way of his, he said, ”I expect Miss Agnes will know it when a bunch of deputies tromp in.”

I figured that had settled Carl's hash, so I focused on picking my way toward the garage without breaking my neck. Carl and Ardis were not very steady with the flashlight beams, and I was getting even more anxious about Adam, as I peered this way and that, looking for him instead of watching where I stepped.

We finally reached the paved courtyard in front of the garage, and Etta Mae and I, wet to the skin, headed for my car. Thank goodness for leather seats. I slid beneath the wheel and immediately turned on the ignition and the heater, hoping to dry us off.

The headlights came on when the motor did, and Etta Mae, who was walking around the car to get to the pa.s.senger side, suddenly stopped. ”Look!” she screamed, pointing to Adam's truck. ”There's feet sticking out!”

Chapter 50.

And there certainly were. The driver's door stood open and whoever's feet were sticking out was sprawled across the bench seat. But it wasn't just feet we saw, but feet clad in mud-caked, heavy-duty work boots with a familiar green patch on the tongue.