Afterwards she wanted to dry off and take a nap together, but Skink said there was no time. They dressed quickly. Without a word he led her through the tangled woods. Edie saw no particular trail; at times it seemed they were hiking in circles. Once they reached a paved road, he took her arm. They walked another mile to an intersection with a flashing traffic light. A sign said that one road went to Miami, the other toward Key West.
Skink told her to wait there.
“For what?”
“Somebody’s taking you to the mainland. He’ll be coming soon.”
Edie was caught by surprise. “Who?”
“Relax.”
“But I wanted you to take me.”
“Sorry,” said Skink. “This is as far as I go.”
“It’s going to rain again.”
“Yep.”
“I heard lightning!” Edie said.
“So don’t fly any kites.”
“When did you plan this? Dropping me out here …” She was angry now. She realized he’d always meant to let her go-which meant the sex-in-the-creek had been unnecessary.
Not that she hadn’t enjoyed it, or wouldn’t love to try it again, but still she felt tricked.
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
Skink flashed her the politician’s smile. “Slipped my mind.”
“Asshole.” She picked a leaf out of her wet hair and peevishly flicked it into the wind. Swatted a horsefly off her ankle. Folded her arms and glared.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Look on the bright side, girl. You got over your fear of crocodiles.”
THIRTY
At half past noon, a police cruiser stopped at the intersection of Card Sound Road and County Road 905. A broad-shouldered black man in casual street clothes honked twice at Edie Marsh. As he motioned her to the car, she recognized him as the cop whom Snapper had shot outside Paradise Palms. ,
“You might not believe this,” she said, “but I’m really glad you’re OK.”
“Thanks for your concern.” His tone was so neutral that she almost didn’t catch the sarcasm. He wore reflector sunglasses and had a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. When he reached across to open the door, Edie glimpsed a white mat of bandage between the middle buttons of his shirt.
“You’re Jim, right? I’m Edie.”
“I figured.”
He took the road toward Miami. Edie assumed she was being arrested. She said, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t think he would shoot.”
“Funny thing about morons with guns.”
“Look, I know where he is. I can show you where he is.”
Jim Tile said, “I already know.”
Then she understood. The trooper had no intention of trying to find Snapper. It was over for Snapper.
“What about me?” she asked, inwardly speculating on the multitude of felonies for which she could be prosecuted. Attempted murder. Fleeing the scene. Aiding and abetting. Auto theft. Not to mention insurance fraud, which the trooper might or might not know about, depending on what the governor had told him.
“So what happens to me?” she asked again.
“Last night I got a message saying a lady needed a ride to the mainland.”
“And you had nothing better to do.”
From miles behind the sunglasses: “It was an old friend who called.”
Edie Marsh kept trying to play tough. It wasn’t easy. No other cars were in sight. The guy could rape me, kill me, dump my body in the swamp. Who’d ever know? Plus he was a cop.
She said, “You didn’t answer my question.”
The toothpick bobbed. “The answer is: Nothing. Nothing’s going to happen to you. The friend who left a message put in a good word.”
“Yeah?”
“‘Jail will not make an impression on this woman. Don’t waste your time.’ That’s a quote.”
Edie reddened. “Some good word.”
“So you get a free ride to Florida City. Period.”
After crossing the Card Sound Bridge, the trooper stopped at Alabama Jack’s. He asked Edie if she wanted a fish sandwich or a burger.
“I’m barefoot,” she said.
Finally he broke a smile. “I don’t believe there’s a dress code.”
Over lunch, Edie Marsh tried again. “I got sick when
Snapper pulled the trigger,” she said, “back at the motel, I swear. It’s the last thing I wanted.”