A sacrifice of buntings by Christine Goff

Author:Christine Goff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Astor and Blue
Published: 2014-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

The others called it a night, but Rachel stayed up and checked out a few more Web sites before going to bed. She learned a couple of interesting things.

The real estate Fancy and her boys were sitting on was worth somewhere in the range of thirty-five hundred to over six thousand dollars an acre, maybe more if the stakes for access to Swamper’s Island were high enough. That meant, provided the Carters got top dollar, they would walk away with between one hundred seventy-five thousand to over three hundred thousand dollars. Not bad for fifty or so acres of undeveloped swampland, and enough money to serve as motive.

The search on Wolcott turned up his resume, address, telephone number, what hotels and ice cream shops he lived close to, and not much else.

As expected, Beau and Reggie checked out clean.

Aware it was late, Rachel finally logged off and turned out the light. She dreamed of Geechee houses, Trula, and hudu warnings, and awoke in the morning still tired, with the nagging feeling that Paul Becker had been trying to tell her something.

• • •

With very little sleep the night before, the morning session of the digiscoping workshop came early. Everyone was abuzz with the talk of the murder, and Rachel arrived with time to spare, coffee in hand, prepared to eavesdrop. She ended up at a table next to the protest leader.

He was cuter up close, she decided, and his hazel eyes twinkled when he realized she recognized him.

“A birder by day,” she said.

“Protestor by night.” He reached out a strong, lean hand. “Liam Kelly.”

They shook, then Chuck Knapp arrived and all conversation ceased.

She found the information he gave them on cameras and scopes interesting, but she found she already knew most of what he had to offer on framing a shot, composition, and color.

“Do you find this boring?”

Was it that obvious?

Realizing that the person who had spoken wasn’t her tablemate, Rachel was startled out of her stupor to find everyone filing out for a break and Chuck Knapp standing in front of her table.

“No,” she stammered, facing his glower. “I just…” How not to sound like an idiot? “I work in graphics, so I know a lot about what you were teaching. I’m looking forward to getting out in the field this afternoon.”

“Good. I was worried.” He smiled then, and it softened his looks. Dark, curly hair bumped the collar of his beige shirt, and his blue eyes were sharp and appraising. “One question: If you know all of this, why take my class?”

“You’re a legend.” She smiled, hoping he would bask in her flattery. Instead, he acted annoyed.

“And here I thought maybe you were interested in photographing birds.”

“I am,” she said, realizing her mistake. “Very interested. I just spent two days in the field, first on Sapelo Island, and yesterday on Little St. Simons. On Friday, I’m canoeing in the Okefenokee Swamp. I’d like to be able to take some pictures using my scope.”

She noticed his eyes widened when she mentioned the swamp.

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