CHAPTER 37

CAL LOOKED UP CAMP MANMAKER on his phone and found a map to the location. In a matter of minutes, he and Kelly had exited the city limits of Pickett and were hurtling down a two-lane blacktop that skirted the Okefenokee. The sun had started to dip on the horizon, and Cal estimated they had a half hour of daylight remaining.

Five minutes later, they reached the turnoff point for the camp, the sign nearly covered up by a cluster of kudzu. Cal wheeled his car onto the dirt driveway as per the directions on his phone and continued along. Spanish moss hung from the bald-cypress nestled into the swampy areas on both sides of the road. Black gum trees dominated the drier landscape, and the frogs provided an unrelenting chorus. Cal rolled his window down to take in the swamp air, which smelled musky and pungent.

“Put that window up,” Kelly said, playfully gagging.

“What? You don’t like the fresh smell of a pole cat?” Cal asked.

“I told you we should’ve listened to Crazy Corey Taylor.”

Cal smiled as the car bumped along the road. He was enjoying the comedic moment in what had been an otherwise serious and grueling week of interviews and research in a town that held his intentions suspect. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find at Camp Manmaker, but he wanted to see it for himself and get Kelly to snap a few photos in the evening light for the story. If anything, an aside about the camp promised to provide interesting insight into the man behind the badge.

Cal finally reached a row of cabins and what looked like a main meeting hall. He parked the car and got out. Kelly lagged a minute behind as she gathered her camera gear.

“I didn’t picture a place like this,” Cal said. “Did you?”

Kelly lugged her bag toward Cal and shook her head.

“I figured it would’ve been somewhat run down, but this place is kind of nice.”

“Maybe that’s how this camp works. They work hard and part of what they do is keep it up.”

Cal walked around the grounds, inspecting the buildings a little closer. He cupped his hands around his face and peered into the windows.

“I can’t really see much inside,” Cal said.

“Did you try the door to see if it’s open?” Kelly asked while she snapped several pictures.

Cal jogged over to the door to one of the cabins and jiggled the handle. It was locked.

“Nothing,” he said.

Cal joined Kelly as she started to walk deeper into the grounds and then Cal froze.

“Look over there,” Cal said in a strained whisper. “Sloan’s truck. If he catches us, he’s liable to throw us in a cell right next to Drake.”

Kelly shot him a look. “I told you we should’ve listened to Crazy Corey Taylor.”

“Fine. You’re right. We shouldn’t have come.”

Daylight had given way to dusk, making it easier to see a light in one of the cabins about three hundred meters away through the trees.

“What do you think is over there?” Kelly asked.

“Seriously? A cabin in the middle of nowhere near a backwoods town? And you want to go there?” Cal asked.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Of course I am, but I’m not interested in getting into trouble here tonight,” Cal said, “especially after we’ve been able to avoid it for about a week.”

Fireflies started to flicker as they ascended toward the top of the slash pines scattered around the grounds. The chorus of the frogs bellowing seemed to grow louder.

“Since when did you lose your nerve to go the extra mile on a story like this?” Kelly asked.

Cal sighed. “Did I ever tell you that you’re a bad influence on me?”

He spun toward the cabin with Kelly walking by his side. Her wide grin took the place of any words she could’ve offered up at the time. And Cal reveled in it, reminding himself how lucky he was to have a woman as committed to good journalism as he was—maybe even more so. She was also just as curious as he was, story or not.

Cal and Kelly stayed low to the ground as they approached the sole lit cabin. As they got closer, Cal realized it wasn’t like the other cabins. It was set farther back and appeared to be built more recently. Instead of a tin roof, it had a shingled one. And the façade wasn’t wood but brick.

Once they reached the structure, Cal put his finger to his lips and then motioned for Kelly to follow him to the back. With a set of steps on both sides of the building that led up to the door, the windows sat high off the ground but not so high that Cal and Kelly couldn’t see inside.

When Cal got close enough and peered into the window, his eyes widened. He then slunk down against the side of the building.

“What is it?” Kelly whispered.

“See for yourself.”

Cal watched as she followed his instructions only to join him seconds later.

“What’s going on in there?” she asked.

“Sshh,” Cal said, putting his finger to his lips.

“It looks like they’re about to go to war in there.”

“And distribute several kilos of drugs to everyone in Pickett County.”

Cal stood up again to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. But nothing had changed. All types of guns were spread out over one table. In the center of the room were duffle bags with stacks of cash. And against the far wall was a table piled high with drugs sealed in tight clear packets. The contents were almost so astonishing that Cal hardly took time to note all of the people inside. He only remembered seeing Sheriff Sloan along with about a half dozen others.

Cal decided to stand up once more to see if he recognized anyone else.

This time, the room was empty.

Cal heard a click behind him and froze.

“I told you and told you and told you to leave town,” boomed Sloan. “But did you listen to me? Nooo. You had to try to be some hero in your own stupid story. But now you’re just going to end up dead. And all because you didn’t listen to me.”

Cal raised his hands and turned around slowly.

“Look, why don’t you just let us leave now, and we’ll forget we ever saw anything?” Cal said.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sloan said. “First, I’ll take your camera and destroy it. Then I’ll drop you off in Alligator Alley with your hands and feet tied together. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like murder,” Kelly grumbled.

Sloan chuckled. “Sounds like a better idea than yours. Now stand up and start walkin’.”

Cal kept his hands in the air as he stumbled along the path toward Sloan’s truck. While Cal’s predicament looked bleak, the only thing he could do to buy them more time was to talk with Sloan. Plus, if Cal was going to die, he at least wanted to know why Sloan killed his daughter—or why he helped cover it up.

“I can appreciate you wanting to murder us, I—”

Sloan clucked his tongue. “Let’s not use the M word around here, okay? Nobody is going to get murdered around here, you understand? You might get eaten by somethin’, but not murdered.”

“One of your Marsh Monsters going to get us?” Kelly asked.

Sloan broke into a guffaw.

“You Yankees always eat that story up,” he said.

“Based on my interviews, sounds like the rest of your town has too,” Cal snapped.

“Oh, they all know it’s good for business, good for the tourism dollars down this way. Just about every enterprisin’ resident of Pickett County has created some kind of Marsh Monster memorabilia, and they peddle it whenever there’s a sightin’.” He paused. “And there just might be a sightin’ tonight.”

Cal stumbled forward in the dark, the tip of Sloan’s gun pressed against Cal’s back as a constant reminder that the end was undoubtedly near. He thought about Kelly, who held his hand tightly, and little Maddie, who would grow up without a father. All the emotions accompanying such thoughts rose up within him—along with the desire to not give up. He had to try something, anything to stall or maneuver himself into a position to make a getaway or at least help Kelly do so.

But in the moment, all he could think to do was keep asking questions.

“So why’d you do it?” Cal asked.

“Do what?” Sloan said.

“Kill your own daughter?”

Sloan exhaled. “That’s where you’re all wrong there, Mr. Murphy. I never killed my daughter. And I think we both know who’s responsible for that—the crazy lunatic that attacked me at my house yesterday. I hope they put him on a fast track to execution after he gets convicted a second time.”

Cal kept walking, squeezing Kelly’s hand. “I know you went to see her that night. We spoke with a witness who saw you there.”

“I didn’t kill her,” Sloan growled.

“So, what did you have to hide?” Kelly asked, apparently emboldened by Cal’s line of questioning.

“That was a long time ago, but you’re right, I did go see her about a private matter for a few minutes and then I left.”

“Where’d you go after that?”

“You reporters are always stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong. But what does it matter? You’re about to become a casualty of the dangerous wildlife livin’ in the Okefenokee in a few hours anyway. I guess it can’t hurt to satisfy that curiosity itch of yours. Maybe you can think about it as you lie on the ground, bleeding out from a vicious gator attack.”

Cal shook his head. “You gonna tell me or just drone on about how torturous you’re going to make our deaths?”

“I was havin’ an affair with Mrs. Elaine Butterfield, the wife of Pickett’s mayor at the time. And I didn’t want him to find out.”

“Is that the personal matter you went to talk to your daughter about? Your affair?”

“That’s somethin’ that will stay between the two of us,” Sloan said before shoving Cal to the ground. “Tie him up, boys.”

Three of the men with Sloan rushed to the ground and bound Cal’s hands together before also binding his feet.

“Now the woman,” Sloan commanded.

In less than a minute, Kelly was also tied up like Cal.

“What are you gonna do with us?” Cal asked.

Even in the twilight, Cal could see Sloan’s teeth glistening as he grinned.

“I’m gonna introduce you to the Marsh Monster.”