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“Voodoo,” Clive said. “That’s what they said, but no one knows for sure.”
“When was the last time you saw them?”
“That’s just it,” Bobby-Dean said. “It’s not like anyone saw them. Not regular, for sure, and they kind of squatted, you know, moved around, you never really knew where they were.”
“Was there ever anyone else with them?” Bentz asked.
“Like a kid?” Bobby-Dean said, and both he and Clive were shaking their heads.
Montoya said, “Like anyone.”
Bobby-Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah. They were loners, you know.”
“Not right.” Clive was serious. “No one wanted to hang out with them. Just did their business—whatever it was—and left.”
“They have relatives or friends?”
“Look man, I didn’t know them. Nuh-uh. I just heard about ’em. Saw ’em maybe—what?” He looked to Clive, who was shaking his head. “Maybe four—five times?”
“In how long?” Bentz asked.
“Oh—Geez, I don’t know.” He lifted his hat and squared it on his head. “Years. Long as I can remember, I guess. As I said, they came and went. Months would go by and you wouldn’t see ’em.”
“Years,” Clive corrected.
“So when was the last time you saw them. Either one of them,” Bentz said, and the two men looked at each other.
“Maybe, what?” He looked at Clive. “Three years.”
“Uh—yeah.” The big man was nodding his agreement. “Little less. Christmas time. We seen ’em, no—just Maizie I think.” He was frowning, thinking, eyebrows drawn together. “Down tryin’ to sell bait to CU. He rents cabins around here. Cyrus Unger.”
“We know him.”
“That’s right,” Bobby-Dean agreed. “I remember cuz CU had that old light-up Santa outside his office he always puts up at that time of year.”
The deputy drove them back to the spot where they’d hiked in and they made their way back to Bentz’s Jeep. Once they changed into regular shoes, dumped their boots and placed them in the back, they took off, heading back to New Orleans.
“We’re gonna get him,” Bentz said, flipping down his visor as they rounded a curve and the setting sun was in his eyes. “I can feel it.”
“If we can find him.”
“We will.” Bentz was sure of it.
It was only a matter of time.
* * *
He had to move.
Now!
The damned cops were closing in. But that was fine. He was ready. He’d been planning this for so long. They were in for a big, big surprise.
And so was she.
In his rowboat, he slid through the water, the moon his only guide.
Stroke.
