The Devil's Bones by Carolyn Haines

Author:Carolyn Haines
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

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The dirt road that led down the east side of the Escatawpa River was easy to spot and looked well traveled. I’d grown up swimming in creeks with my friends and our mothers. We didn’t consider it old-fashioned to take a hand-crank ice cream maker and take turns churning the custard my mother had cooked, or sinking watermelons in the cold creek water so that when it was time to cut them, they were sweet and icy. Those memories flooded back to me as we drove along the side of the amber river that was filled with beautiful white sandbars. The Escatawpa was one of the most beautiful small rivers I’d ever seen.

It was a little early for swimmers—the days were turning warm and sunny, but not enough to make a dip in the river tempting. In another month, the sandbars would be filled with people who’d come to enjoy the water.

The trees along the bank were pine and scrub oak, not the beautiful live oaks that had grown up in some places. Palmettos were scattered about in clumps. We rode with the top down, and the sunlight filtering through the trees was golden. From somewhere nearby the lemony scent of a magnolia in bloom came to me.

Around us was the chatter of small animals and birds. Squirrels darted across the road in front of the car, apparently on a suicide mission. Luckily I was going slow enough to easily dodge them.

“How much farther?” Tinkie asked.

The odometer showed we’d traveled a mile on the dirt road. We were exactly where we’d been told to be. I slowed to a stop. The woods seemed to be empty, except for us.

“I think we’ve been had,” I said. “This was a practical joke.”

“Let’s give it a minute. Maybe turn around so we’re headed out.”

I did as Tinkie instructed. When the Roadster was pointed toward the highway, I cut the engine and we settled into the seats to enjoy the serenity of the woods that surrounded us. It was a perfect spring day, too soon for the mosquitos or yellow flies that would hide in the woods during summer.

I turned the radio on and picked up a country station that was playing some oldies, tunes that dated back to my childhood, when I would watch my parents dance. They weren’t ballroom dancers, like Erik, but they were perfectly in tune with each other. They’d danced close, seeming to lose themselves in the music and each other.

After three songs, Tinkie had slumped in her seat, the sunshine falling softly across her face. In that instant, she looked so much like a child she almost broke my heart. She was about to give birth to her own child, and in the golden light of a spring day, she looked no older than fourteen.

The crackle of a stick made me turn my attention from Tinkie to the woods. The undergrowth beneath a large oak tree began to move and quiver. Someone was hiding under the tree, and he had a clear line of sight on us.

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