She had to give Tee-John credit. Once he’d realized the seriousness of the situation, he didn’t balk or cry, as she’d expected a kid his age to do. Instead, he’d helped her quickly gather up their supplies, turn the pirogue around, and get them on their way before the security officers began to wonder how Luc had gotten there, and whether he had been alone. The boy’s sense of direction and memory of the route had been invaluable.
Her sense of relief vanished as she noticed the large, lidded basket sitting on the porch floor. Even more ominous than the fact that someone had been there was the hissing sound coming from the basket.
“Stay back,” Tee-John warned. While she held the flashlight, he used a boat paddle to tip over the lid.
Sylvie’s heart jumped. “Oh, my God!”
The basket was filled with a dozen writhing, hissing snakes.
“Don’t worry. They’re just garden snakes,” Tee-John informed her, expertly flipping the lid back on and taking the basket to the side yard, where he released the snakes into the woods.
She still had a hand over her chest when he returned. It would take a while for her heartbeat to return to normal.
Tee-John held out a folded piece of paper to her. “This was in the bottom of the basket… addressed to you,” he explained.
Sylvie unfolded the stiff parchment, which indeed had “Sylvie Fontaine” scribbled on the front in red ink. Or was it blood? Oh, really, Sylvie! Don’t get hysterical now.
The note read:
Eye of the newt,
Heart of the snake.
Meddle with voodoo,
A corpse you will make.
“What a bunch of silliness!” she said, making a tsk-ing sound with her tongue for Tee-John’s benefit. She couldn’t show him how terrified she was.
“You been meddlin’ with voodoo?” he asked, obviously impressed with her daring.
“No, it’s a misunderstanding,” she lied. Tucking the note inside her slacks pocket, she quickly opened the door and flicked on the lights. While she checked on Samson and Delilah, Tee-John said, “I better examine the room for any dangerous objects, like snakes or bombs.”
“Bombs?” She was practically hyperventilating.
He shrugged. “Can’t be too careful. That’s what Luc says all the time.”
She took the cell phone from its hiding place in a loose brick of the fireplace’s inner chimney and proceeded to dial Remy’s number. Meanwhile, Tee-John began the work of closing down the cabin in anticipation of their departure. While the phone was ringing, she watched Tee-John roll up the carpet, lay down the straw matting, and start to work on the perishable food items in the fridge. It was amazing how like Luc he was… a regular neat freak, from the way he stacked all the items to be taken with them in tidy bundles, to the way in which he folded the dish towels and bed linens. It was especially amazing for a kid his age… to whom neatness should be anathema.
“Hello,” Remy said groggily. He must have been asleep.
“Remy, this is Sylvie Fontaine. You’ve got to come quick and pick up me and Tee-John,” she said all in a rush.
“Tee-John? He’s there with you?” Remy’s voice sounded worried.
“Yes. I’ll explain later. When can you get here?”
“Two hours?”
“That’s fine. Hurry.”
“Uh… you know what I told you about my phone…” he began.
Sylvie knew he was referring to the fact it was probably bugged. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, can I assume this is an emergency?”
“Absolutely,” she said, and her voice cracked.
“Let me talk to Luc.” Remy no doubt sensed her desperation.
“Not now,” she said firmly.
A heavy silence followed in which Remy digested her words.
Then she couldn’t stop herself from panicking. “Oh, please, Remy, just come right away.”
Two hours later, they were in the hydroplane flying away from Luc’s bayou and a cabin that would hold memories for her forever.
“Luc has been shot,” Remy informed them.
“When you said he wasn’t there, I made a few calls.”
“Oh, my God!” she cried.
“If my Dad did this, I’m gonna kill ‘im,” Tee-John proclaimed angrily.
“Tee-John!” she and Remy both exclaimed with shock.
Then Remy elaborated. “Luc was only hit in the shoulder. He’s fine, physically.”