Page 105 of Going Once

She nodded.

“So, what I want you to know is that two bodyguards will be here to watch over you, standing outside the door. When anyone comes inside, one will come with them. I’ve known these men since my days in the academy. They’re both ex-Navy SEALs and good friends. I trust them with my life, and I trust them with you. Are you okay with this?”

“Of course I’m okay. Just do your job, Tate. I’ll be here when you get back.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The sun was a faded version of its normal self, which was all the warning they were going to get that the weather was likely to change. Tate didn’t care what it did, as long as it didn’t rain.

Cameron was unhappy about being left out of the search and as anxious as Nola to find out if the sorry bastard was still alive. It was an embarrassment to admit he’d been tricked, and nothing anyone said made it better. The only positive thing about his situation was that Laura Doyle was visiting regularly.

Tate had changed into the sturdier clothes and hiking boots from his duffel bag and was downing his last bite of doughnut as he drove out of town.

“What do you think we’re going to find?” Wade asked.

“I would be happy with a body part.”

Wade had worked with Tate Benton for nearly six years now and considered him more like a brother than just a partner.

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in that statement?”

Tate shrugged. “Because I don’t think he’s dead.”

Wade was shocked.

“Why are you so sure of that? You saw the explosion, the fire, the boat in pieces and the gators.”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel over.”

“Well, I hope to hell you’re wrong,” Wade said.

“So do I.”

“We’re on land, so how do you know how to get to the right part of the shore? There aren’t any roads, and all the normal landmarks are under water.”

“I grew up here. I’ll know,” Tate said.

About thirty minutes later, after driving down a lot of rural roads, and winding through a couple of pastures, Tate stopped.

“This is as far as we’ll be able to drive. We’ll have to walk it from here.”

As he got out, he checked to make sure his weapon was loaded, then used the compass on his watch to align with true south and started walking.

The land was spongy and waterlogged, which made walking slower than usual, and the footing was even worse the closer they got to the floodwater. As they entered the woods, their presence was duly noted by the local four-footed denizens, who either fled or took cover. A small alligator slithered out from beneath some leaves and headed for the water, reminding them that far larger ones could be anywhere.

“We’re almost there,” Tate said. “Keep an eye out for signs of the boat—or a body.”

Wade nodded, and a few minutes later they walked out of the woods and stopped just short of the water. Tate looked out across the flood, aligning where they were standing with what he could see of the shore on the opposite side.

“If he got out on this side, it would have been somewhere in this area. If we don’t find anything for a mile in either direction, then we’ll have to drive down to Tidewater to cross and check the other shore.”

“I’ll go downriver,” Wade said.

“And I’ll go up. Call me if you find anything, and watch out for gators. They could be up here sunning.”

“Dandy,” Wade muttered.

They parted at the water’s edge and started moving slowly in opposite directions.

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