Louder Than Words by Brett Baker

Author:Brett Baker [Baker, Brett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2019-12-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Since only Stockton knew that I’d driven to Miami, I decided to find a place to stay for the night. I’m always on alert in case some misguided criminal tries to kill me while I’m sleeping, but as my experience at the El Hombre showed, those attacks are more likely some days than others. I’d ruffled feathers in Cross City, so a restful night alone in a city where I remained anonymous was just what I needed.

I found a non-descript motel near Plantation and checked in. The young man at the desk greeted me with a disconcerting amount of enthusiasm, but after talking with him for a few minutes he won me over. He gave me a brief history of the motel, none of which I found interesting, and wished me a restful night. What more can one hope for from a motel?

After doing my typical room check, I fell asleep and woke the next morning relieved that no one had tried to kill me. The young man at the desk was just getting off work when I checked out, and he greeted me with a smile, and a “Good morning.” I got in my car and drove away, checking my mirrors every few seconds to make sure the hotel clerk wasn’t behind me. To my relief no one followed as I veered off the surface streets and eased onto the Florida Turnpike.

Five hours later I approached Cross City, and pulled off to the side of the road to study a road map of the county. Stockton hadn’t provided the exact location of the land he’d sold to Oswalt, but there on the map, about eight miles east of Cross City, I found 342 on a blue pentagon with a gold border, which indicated a county road. It jutted out from highway 19, darting straight to the southwest for 15 miles where it ended before reaching the Gulf. The road didn’t connect to any other county roads. It crossed two local roads, which both seemed to meander in every direction before terminating nowhere. It looked like 342 intersected the local roads by chance rather than by design.

I decided to see 342 for myself.

I ended up in Cross City, despite looking for a 342 sign while I drove. I turned around and drove the other way and ended up right where I’d pulled off the side of the road to look at the map. Since no cross street had a 342 sign, I assumed it must have been the only street that had no sign at all.

I went back to the unmarked road and turned. A hundred yards down the road it made a sharp curve to the southeast, and then turned back to the southwest, a bottleneck not depicted on the map I studied. The turns created a wall of trees between the long, straight stretch of the road, and highway 19. I continued down the road, and within a couple of minutes it felt like I’d entered a different world.

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