It was after eleven a.m. The rain had settled to an intermittent drizzle, but the light was still watery and dim. Jenner, in his blue Douglas County rain slicker, sat waiting with Deb Putnam on the largest of the three airboats tethered at the edges of the hammock, peering into the dense vegetation as if he could see into the hive of activity at its heart.
The crime scene techs were now deep inside the island of trees, photographing the bodies where they hung. They’d managed to get foot-wear imprints at the apparent landing site, not sharp enough to nail an individual shoe or boot but probably good enough for brand, model, and size.
Jenner glanced at Deb Putnam, sitting next to him. The park ranger had been the first responder, and had waited with Jenner at his car while the sheriff’s department coordinated the airboats. Since Crime Scene had shooed them out of the hollow, they’d spent the morning talking and sharing bottles of water from the airboat cooler.
Mostly, they made small talk. She teased him about his black eye. Jenner made her laugh at the story about his trek across the sedge to the hammock. She told him alligator holes were hollows hidden behind mounded-up dirt ramparts; she looked around trying to find one to show him but couldn’t spot an obvious gator hole. She pointed out with a smirk that the hammock really wasn’t all that far from his car.
He asked her if there was anything in the Glades that scared her. She hesitated for a second, blushing.
Jenner grinned. “Out with it! What is it?”
She laughed at his eagerness. “Well, I really don’t like snakes.”
“Lots of people don’t like snakes.”
“Yeah, well, they never used to bother me. But then I watched a couple people die from snake bites—it’s not pretty. And after that I became a lot more careful where I put my feet.”
There was rustling as a tech emerged from the bushes to their left. She photographed, then carefully untied and bagged the bicycle light before disappearing back into the trees.
They sat together in silence for a while, watching the rain on the saw grass. Deb turned to Jenner, hesitated for a second, then said, “Can I tell you something, Jenner? Those snails? They’re Everglades snails. They’re an endangered species, and I’ve never seen so many before. It’s really amazing.”
Jenner shrugged. “You gotta figure there’s easier ways to get more snails.”
She smiled tentatively, trying to gauge his seriousness. “Well, things live for a while and then they die—I’ve made my peace with that. There are plenty more people but soon these snails will be gone forever.”
Jenner wasn’t listening to her: he was crouching at the side of the airboat, hanging on to the rail with one hand as he leaned out to fish something from the water.
He straightened to show her a sodden white bag. He held it by the corners to shake out the damp folds, then placed it carefully on the floor of the boat, smoothing it down. The red ink had faded in the sun, but they could still read the bleached text: DELFINE PIGLET FEED, 20LBS.
“What do you think?” Jenner said. “It’s really in the middle of nowhere—doesn’t seem likely that it’s just some random trash that’s floated out here.”
Deb nodded. “Yeah, I doubt it would’ve.”
Jenner said, “We’re pretty far from farmland, and something this big isn’t going to move very fast. And there’s no other garbage around.”
He moved the bag onto a seat under the canopy. “We’ll hand it over to Crime Scene.” He grinned at her. “We’ll say you found it, make the Parks Service look good.”
Deb smiled back. She fiddled with a canvas bag beside her, pulled out a thermos, unscrewed the cap, and poured. “Would you like some?”
“Oh, you’ve been holding out on me, eh?” He nodded gratefully. “God, a hot cup of coffee would really hit the spot.”
She made a sorry face, and said, “Chai tea.”
He grinned wryly. “Well, as long as it’s hot…”
They took turns sipping from the thermos cap. The tea was milky and sweet-spiced; they sat in silence for a while, waiting on the airboat in the middle of the marsh, listening to the rain tapping the canopy, drinking chai while the techs processed the murder scene a hundred yards away.
Again it was Deb who interrupted the silence.
“Hey, Jenner, can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“It’s not really a question. I was just wondering how you were doing…with Marty Roburn.”
“You mean how the investigation is going?”
She shook her head, flushing slightly. “No, I meant how you were, y’know, feeling. Nash says you were real close.”
Jenner lowered his head. “Marty was a real good guy—probably the best forensic pathologist I ever knew. And…” He paused, then said something he’d never thought, always felt. “He was kind of like a father to me.”
Deb was silent a second, then said, “Well, if you ever felt like talking with someone about it, you could give me a call.”
He smiled at her. “That’s very kind of you.”
“No, no. I’m sort of dealing with the same thing—my dad died a few months back, so I kind of know what you’re going through.”
“I’m sorry.”
“To tell the truth, everything happened so quickly I haven’t had time to think about it. The funeral, selling the house, moving my mom up to Sarasota, finding my own place, and all of a sudden it’s three months later.”
They were both quiet, looking out over the Glades in the drizzle.
Deb stood, stretching. “I love it here—Dad used to bring me hunting out here when I was just a little girl.”
“I was wondering why you’ve been so calm about the bodies.”
“Jenner, I’ve been hunting since I was ten years old; nothing fazes me.”
He said, “Hey, can I ask why you carry a gun?”
“I’m a law-enforcement ranger.” She grinned. “Don’t let the title or the gun fool you—I spend most of my time making drunk campers put out their cigarettes.”
“So the gun’s just for show, is it?”
She ignored him, squinting across the marsh.
“We’ve got company…” She pointed with her left hand, and Jenner saw she wasn’t wearing a ring.
A mass was moving toward them across the water and saw grass, the blocky shape of a swamp buggy heading in their direction.
The rain had stopped, so Deb rolled the tarp back, then sat down next to Jenner. She drained her cup and poured another.
“Want some more?”
Her eyes were bright blue, and her nose was freckled. He wondered how old she was—twenty-seven, twenty-eight?
He shook his head. “A little sweet for me.”
Jenner stood, balancing himself against the high driver’s seat as the airboat pitched slightly.