The Ballad Of John Lee by Nick Russell

Author:Nick Russell [Russell, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

It took them a while to find the road that led back to the charred ruins of the old fish camp, and once they did, they navigated down the rutted dirt path into it. Their car bottomed out twice and they weren’t sure they would make it without getting stuck or high centered. When they finally pulled up in front of the blackened timbers, Nicholson looked around at the Spanish moss hanging from the live oak trees in the thick, humid air and said, “I think I saw a movie that started out like this. If you see anybody wearing hoods, shoot first and ask questions later.”

They got out of the car and looked around, and though his partner had been speaking in jest, Rosenthal felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. This was exactly the kind of place he could picture somebody lying in wait to ambush them. It just had an ominous feeling about it. It didn’t help when he looked toward the pond and saw a large water moccasin swimming past in the dark water a few feet from shore.

“Do you see anybody?”

“No,” Nicholson said, waving a cloud of mosquitoes away from his face. “Do you?”

“No, and I didn’t notice any fresh tire tracks coming in ahead of us. We don’t even know who this guy is. For all we know, he just sent us on a wild goose chase.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Who knows? Maybe Quarrels has a friend that doesn’t want us poking into things anymore.”

“Just a little while ago, you were saying he would be the last person on your list of suspects, Elliott.”

“That was before all this. Do you think Quarrels is the bad cop the guy was talking about?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s a friend that just decided to do Quarrels a favor, even though he didn’t ask for it.” Nicholson looked at his watch and said, “We’re five minutes past the hour that he said to meet him.”

“It’s not like we synchronized our watches or anything,” Rosenthal said. “Let’s give it a little time.”

“Why not? I think I’ve still got a pint or two of blood left in me,” Nicholson replied as he smashed a mosquito on his forehead, leaving a bloody splotch on his dark skin.

“I don’t like this, partner. We’re meeting someone we don’t know out here in the middle of nowhere, and nobody knows where we’re at.”

They heard something moving in the bushes off to their left and both men instinctively put their hands on their weapons as they looked in that direction. But whatever it was didn’t seem to be a threat and soon all was quiet again, except for the buzzing of the flies and the mosquitoes swarming around them.

Fifteen minutes after they arrived, with multiple mosquito bites on both of the frustrated investigators, they decided they were wasting their time when they heard a motor start up. A minute later, the man they had met at the restaurant rode out of the trees on a four-wheeled Honda ATV that had definitely seen better days.

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