Page 22 of Secrets in Calusa Cove

She shifted her position so she could come around the other side of its head. She needed to get the hook in just the right spot. But every time she angled herself, the snake turned its head. As if it knew exactly what she was doing. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that snake smiled.

Her heartbeat pulsated in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She couldn’t give this beast time to strike. If she did that, it would be wrapped around her body like a pretzel.

It was now or never.

As soon as she was close enough, she lunged forward. The snake lifted its head, with its mouth so wide she feared it could take off her arm in one bite. Only, pythons didn’t eat their prey that way.

She shoved the hook around the nasty critter’s neck, pushing it back down with as much force as she could. “Gotcha.”

Immediately, the snake’s body looped around the hook, its tail smacking her in the calf. She stumbled one small step backward, nearly losing the hold she had on its neck. She pressed harder, grunting.

Damn, that snake was strong. It constricted and did its best to shimmy its way out of her grip. Its tail slinked up the hook and smacked her midriff, nearly knocking her over. She adjusted her footing and applied more pressure, making sure the snake’s neck and head couldn’t move. If she let go, she was surely a goner.

She pulled out her air gun and aimed right for the sweet spot—between the python’s eyes and jawbone. If she missed, well, she didn’t want to think about that. She pulled the trigger.

The snake went limp.

But it wasn’t dead. She had only seconds to destroy the snake’s brain.

As quickly as possible, she removed her screwdriver, finding what was considered the access point to the cranial cavity, stabbing the tool deliberately in several directions. This was called pithing. It was gross, but necessary.

She sighed. “Well, that was a little anticlimactic.” She stared at the snake. Pride swelled in her chest. Not just because of how much her father had loved the Everglades and wanted to preserve the wetlands. Growing up, this was the kind of life she’d wanted. Being out here had been a calling. A way of life. It had been in her blood, and she missed it.

She grabbed her bag and heaved the animal into it. The thing was heavier than it looked.

Scanning the tall grass, she made sure she wasn’t stepping on another before heading in the direction where she thought her drone had landed. The sound of an airboat whizzing by in the open waters filled the air. Or maybe it was two, since it seemed as though one slowed down and an engine cut out. At least she wasn’t completely alone, although that thought didn’t necessarily make her feel any better because she was alone.

Trinity’s words about not having friends in this town echoed in her ears.

Get the drone and get back on the boat.

She’d hunt more tomorrow. Or maybe not.

This was a dumb idea. She wasn’t a teenager anymore and when she’d done the challenge last time, she’d done so with a partner. Yeah, this wasn’t her brightest idea.

Then again, maybe she was just spooked being out here on this patch of land and searching for clues about a sixteen-year-old mystery.

Carefully, she stepped into the clearing. Ten paces away, her drone came into view. She dropped the sack with the dead snake and picked up her flying machine, examining it.

“No way.” She held it up. “This can’t be right. I didn’t hear a gunshot.” She pressed her finger to the hole. But sure enough, a bullet had damaged her drone, and she knew a bullet hole when she saw one.

A silencer?

“Mother trucker,” she whispered. “Who the hell would do that? And why?” And now she was talking to herself.

Her father used to do that all the time. He’d pace and mumble.

However, the bigger issue was, she was standing on an island that was inhabited by snakes, gators, and possibly someone who wanted to shoot her.

Jesus, she needed to get back to her boat.

However, she couldn’t just run back to it. That would kill her in a different way.

She picked up her snake and slowly headed back toward her airboat. She’d take two steps and look over her shoulder before taking another inch forward. If a python or alligator didn’t get her, a human with a bullet would.

A part of her—the curious part—wanted to continue looking on this small patch of land for whoever had shot the drone—but that would be pure insanity. Sure, it could have been an accident.

Everyone out here had a gun—just in case.

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