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Daisy
I’m out for a run,trying to clear my head and focus. It’s dusk, rendering the landscape in soft focus. I’m behind the house, running along trails through the drier parts of the wetlands.
To an outsider, this would be madness. Hell, to most of the locals, it’s madness. One only uses these trails for hunting. Or to get, very carefully, from point A to point B. Snakes, alligators, fire ants, even wild hogs are a possibility out here. Tom says the hogs all get hunted as soon as they’re spotted and besides, this is my grandmother’s place—I grew up here. I know these paths, and I know what to watch for, and I know where to avoid. Also, I like a bit of danger with my evening run. Keeps me on my toes. It’s a small price to pay for enjoying the glory of the evening, the humidity settling so thick that fronds rain on me as my footfalls shake the ground.
The buzz of mosquitoes fills the air, the rage of tiny predators temporarily thwarted by a heavy layer of repellent. I cut my own path through the stands of banyan and tangles of lush undergrowth. I’m circling a bush when I nearly bash into a car. There’s a flash of mental confusion, as I think I’ve somehow become so wrapped up in my thoughts that I’ve run right through someone’s yard.
I skid to avoid becoming a hood ornament. My foot slides on the damp earth, and I stumble forward, hands slamming on the hood with a thud that scares off a woodpecker, the bird giving a shrill cry as it flees.
I back up and blink. What I ran into isn’t a car but an SUV. I didn’t see it because it’s black, and the night is already darker than I thought. Behind the vehicle, I see a lane. It’s not a private drive—just a set of tracks made by local ATVs.
Then I see the words emblazoned across the hood.
Range Rover.
A black Range Rover.
Liam’s SUV.
There is a moment where I laugh at myself. Silly girl. You have Liam on the brain. Just because this is the same make and color as his vehicle doesn’t mean it’s his. There must be dozens around here.
Yeah, I’ve spent too long in the suburbs. This is a luxury SUV in Fort Exile, where Tom’s vintage pickup stands out as a cherry ride.
It’s Liam’s SUV.
I spot a scrape down one side, and I shiver as my fingers graze a deep, fresh gouge in the paint. I bend to the tire. It’s sunk into the muck deep enough that four-wheel drive isn’t getting it out.
Liam did not drive his SUV back here.
My skin prickles.
Something’s not right.
Something is very not right.
I try the driver’s side door. I only jiggle the handle, expecting nothing, but it opens.
The keys are right there, on the passenger seat.
I glance about the SUV’s interior, but it’s only a cursory look as my gut screams at me to get out of here. I shut the door, and I break into a run, slipping and sliding until I find my footing.
I’m running for the house. Tell Celeste. Call the police. Get them out here, because someone has dumped Liam’s SUV. Dumped it and left the keys in hopes that if it was found, it’d be stolen.
Why here? Why not leave it in a parking lot, doors unlocked, keys in plain sight?
I don’t know. I just know that I need to get to the house and—
I’m more than halfway back when movement to my left has me stumbling and sliding and smacking into a mangrove. Heart thudding, I drop to a semicrouch, fists out. I know how to fight, as Liam discovered last night. A guy on my first construction crew had been a retired pro boxer, and he’d taught me to hit. Now the stance comes automatically.
Everything has gone still. Still and silent.
I know I saw movement, and I’m not turning my back on it. I take a step in that direction, rolling my foot. Another step. One more—
A pale shape lunges from behind a fallen mangrove, hissing at me. At first, it looks like a huge rat. Maybe a small hog? I don’t want to encounter one of those, even a youngster. When I make out the humpbacked form of an opossum, I exhale in relief. The beast hisses, back arched, warning me off.
I don’t see babies on its back, and it’s out of season for that. Is it rabid? Opossums can be nasty, but they don’t usually initiate attack. I’m ten feet away, giving it plenty of time to run. Yet it stands its ground, hissing.
Then I see dark splotches on its pale snout.
