The Butterfly Forest

TWENTY-SEVEN

At 7:03 a.m. my cell phone rang on the small table next to my bed. Max, at the foot of the bed, poked her head out of a corner sheet, groundhog like. She looked at the ringing phone and then turned her head to me as I picked it up and stared at the caller ID. Morning light poured through the master birth porthole.

Detective Lewis said, “We picked up Soto. Thought you’d want to know.”

I cleared my throat. “Thanks. Where’d you find him?”

“Tampa, last night. Two sheriff deputies pulled him over for a burned-out brake light. The deputies thought the guy looked like the BOLO photo we’d circulated. They pulled up the image on their car computer and called for backup. The deputies drew down on Soto. Cuffed him without resistance.”

“What was he doing in Tampa?”

“Don’t know. I do know he still had a black eye and the bruises you left on his face.”

“How about the tat?”

Lewis chuckled. “It’s there. A naked little fairy with big boobs, I’m told. Soto will be back here in Seminole County today. I’m sure the judge will hold him without bond ‘til we can sort this stuff out.”

“Maybe you can get a confession to the murder of the girl in the forest.”

“We’re working with Marion County S.O. We’re gonna try.”

“Do Elizabeth and her daughter know?”

“Called Elizabeth Monroe right before I called you. Take care of yourself, O’Brien. This one’s in the bag.” He disconnected. I sat at the edge of the bed and attempted to put a solid hook into the line Lewis had just tossed to me. Tampa? Was Soto hiding there, keeping low or meeting someone? If so, who and how could it be tied to the forest, if it was? I felt a throb building above my left eyebrow.

“Come on, Max. Let’s go find a patch of grass and something to eat.

Luke Palmer opened a can of sardines for breakfast, leaned back against a pine tree, and ate. He watched a rabbit chewing clover in the undergrowth and thought about the body of the girl he’d seen. Damn shame. She was somebody’s daughter.

He wondered what it would have been like to have a daughter. Remembered his case, his “day in court,” so many years ago, the public defender smelling of whiskey, the judge smelling of bribes. They’d cheated him out of a chance for daughters, sons… family. Cheated out of ever having experienced love from a woman. Real love from a real woman who could give her heart totally. Jesus, what that must be like. Too damn late. How do you make sense out the senseless? Out here, out in the wild, animals do what comes natural. They are what they are. Humans, well, that’s a different animal. In the courts, the penal system is liars, cons and cheats… and they’re the ones on the outside. Money talks, bad dudes walk and a poor man does forty for defending himself when a rich drunk comes at him with a knife.

Today he’d head a little farther northwest, stay close to the approximate area and see if he could hit pay dirt. Place must have changed a hell of a lot since Ma Barker and her son hid the loot. It had to be here. Somewhere.

Maybe today would be the day. Find it, get outta here, and help get a kidney transplant for Caroline. If anything’s left, drink margaritas and enjoy life.

Somebody was coming. He poured water on the small fire, kicked out the embers and stood behind foliage as he watched the car in the distance. Same car. Same dark windows. But this time he could see the front window, the morning sun in the faces of three men. Looked like a roughneck driving. A younger, darker skinned man sat on the passenger side. And someone, a man, was in the backseat. As the car passed, the man in the backset lowered the window and tossed out the remains of a cigar. He looked Hispanic, sideburns, black hair, a gold pinkie ring.

Palmer packed his gear and walked toward the dirt road. There was a ghostlike swirl of something white to his left. Almost didn’t see it. Smoke. Near the road. He approached it and saw the cigar smoldering, a yellow flame curling through dry weeds. Palmer stomped out the fire. He looked down at the cigar — one end still wet from saliva and flattened with teeth marks. He used his shovel to throw dirt on the stogie. He shook his head and thought the most dangerous fuckin’ animal in the forest walks on two legs.