Page 56 of Fire on the Moon

“Maybe if he talked, the cops would get a better idea of the whole picture. Meanwhile, we’re murder suspects, and I don’t know how to get the hell out of the state.”

Teddy Granada, who was apparently also on the line, spoke up. “I can home in on your GPS signal. You’re on a tributary of the Augustine River?”

“Yes.”

“And I saw a shot of your backs as you walked down the sidewalk. Nice that everybody in the world has a cell phone camera.”

Zane made a sound of agreement.

“You appear to be in a swamp,” Teddy said, switching back to the current problem.

“It was the best I could do last night when I was falling asleep at the wheel. We had to get out of the main traffic lane.” He glanced at Francesca and then away.

“Understood,” Frank answered.

“Our car is back at the marina, and we can’t risk using it in any case. Also I didn’t want to take the gamble of stopping to fuel up, so we don’t have much gas left.”

“You have a plan?” Frank asked.

“I was thinking about something. Maybe it will work and maybe it won’t.”

“Let’s hear it,” Frank prompted.

After listening to what Zane had in mind, Frank approved, with one caution. “We can’t get an operation like that up and running for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Understood.”

“Sit tight. We’ll let you know the location—and the timing.”

Zane clicked off and turned to Francesca. “We’re going to have to stay here for at least a day.”

“And do what?” she asked.

He shook his head regretfully, “How about—pray that nobody figures out where we might have gone and comes up this tributary looking for us?”

“You have a way of dampening my enthusiasm for a little R and R.” She gave him a considering look. “I guess we have to keep watch, but you should let me take the first shift. And you have to eat something. Do you think you could choke down any more of that chicken soup?”

Now that the wolf was no longer a secret, he said, “I’d rather go hunting in the swamp.”

“I’d rather not worry about you out there.”

“Point taken.” His voice turned serious. “That panther could come back. I don’t want you out on the deck.”

“Yes.”

Francesca took the gun out to the main cabin. Zane joined her just after noon.

“I take it there were no problems,” he said.

“A couple of times I heard a boat in the distance, but nobody came up this way.”

“Good.” Zane sat down in the pilot’s chair. “You get some sleep. I’ll stay here—hoping a nice juicy snake drops onto the deck so I can eat it.”

“Would you?”

“Doesn’t everybody say snake tastes like chicken?”

She made a face. “I’m not going to find out.”

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