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“Too pretty not to capture it,” she said with a small, defensive shrug.
“Yeah, it’s gorgeous,” I replied then pulled a face. “I can’t take decent pictures.”
She ignored me as she took several more shots. I looked away, silently cursing myself for giving her more ammunition for insults.
Pierce lifted his head. “Boat. Stow the taggers.”
As if choreographed, Rachel and I slipped the taggers into their hidden compartments, then sat and acted natural.
The sound of an engine grew louder, and a sleek white patrol boat with a dark green stripe rounded the curve up ahead.
“Crap. It’s Wildlife and Fisheries,” Marcus muttered, though he kept a pleasant expression on his face.
Any hopes they’d continue on past died as the boat slowed. One agent stood near the front of the boat, a deeply tanned man with sun-bleached hair cropped short. The second, a slim, black woman who looked younger than me, worked the wheel and throttle with a deft touch. She eased the boat to within a few feet and idled the engine.
The male agent had “Z. Carbo” stitched above his left front pocket. To calm my nerves, I tried to guess what the Z stood for. Zeus? Zuul? Zebulon?
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“Mornin’, folks,” Agent Z. Carbo said with a friendly but official smile. His eyes flicked over both boats, most likely counting people and life jackets, and taking careful note of the weapons. “What’re y’all hunting today?”
“Wild hogs,” Pierce drawled with a shockingly convincing redneck accent. He turned and spat over the side of the boat, even though he didn’t have any dip in his mouth. “And coyotes,” he added, pronouncing it to rhyme with “pie-oats,” just like god intended. “Hogs’re tearing up my fields, and the coyotes done kilt two of my barn cats.”
Agent Carbo nodded. “Uh huh, they’re a real problem this year. And don’t forget the boat has to be at a full stop before you shoot.” He paused as if trying to get a point across. “Y’all mind showing me your permits?”
It was nicely asked but an order all the same. I dug my permit out of my vest pocket and handed it over along with everyone else.
Except Rachel.
Shit. Naomi had a lifetime pass, so Marcus hadn’t bought a permit for her. And apparently no one thought of that when Rachel replaced her.
The agent handed the permits back then rested that very official smile on Rachel. “Ma’am, if you’re going to hunt, you need a permit.”
To my utter shock, Rachel gave an airhead-worthy scoff and made an ew face at the guns. “I canNOT stand hunting,” she announced, packing the words with enough vocal fry to rival a Kardashian. “I’m only here because my boyfriend wanted me to come along.” She simpered over at Pierce.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from cracking up. Pierce affected a put-upon expression and heaved a sigh. “Yeah, you don’t have t’worry about her downing a hog. I ain’t never seen her touch a gun unless it shot t-shirts.” He grinned up at the agent. “She used t’be a cheerleader. Ain’t she cute?”
Agent Carbo pursed his lips. “That sure is interesting. See, you may not realize it, but this waterway curves back on itself, and a little while ago, my partner and I were taking a break not even a hundred yards away from y’all.”
My gaze went to the spit of land, and my heart sank. The grass was tall but not terribly thick. How much had they seen?
“Thing is,” he continued, “I could’ve sworn I saw this former cheerleader here standing up—while the boat was in motion, mind you—and aiming at something on the bank.”
“It was a camera!” I blurted, thinking fast. If they’d seen us from around the bend, Rachel would have been facing away from them with the tagger. “She likes taking pictures.”
Rachel seized her camera and held it up. “It’s true!” To my amazement, her lower lip trembled, and her eyes welled with honest-to-god tears. “It wasn’t a gun,” she said with an utterly believable quaver in her voice. “I promise.”
The agent’s expression softened. “All right, sweetheart. You don’t need to cry. It’s okay. But if y’ever change your mind and want to take a shot at something, you gotta get you a permit, y’hear?”
She sniffled and nodded. “Ok-kay.”
Agent Carbo returned his attention to the rest of us. “You folks should also be aware that search and rescue is still looking for the body of a man who went missing and is presumed drowned,” he said in a grave tone. “Y’all are several miles from where they’re searching, but I’d hate for these pretty ladies to get themselves a bad fright.”
Somehow I managed to not roll my eyes and instead did my best to look suitably anxious about the possibility of encountering a dead body. Oh, the horror.
“Where are you searching?” Marcus asked. “I mean, so we know to avoid it.”
“Piney Waters area,” the agent replied. “If you stay south and west, you should be fine. And best not to do any swimming either. Alligators have been known to bite people who get close to their nests.” He offered Rachel and me a nod of apology for offending our delicate sensibilities with the topic of wildlife acting wild, then he gave his partner the thumbs up. She nudged the throttle, and they motored away.
