that my mother would never marry again, but Horatio refused to give up hope. He turned the funeral home over to his nephew and spent his days cheerfully doing Mother’s bidding. Only the passing of a dear friend, or the offer of an exorbitant fee for his “special consultation” could draw him out of retirement. I was glad for his constant attentions to my mother because he made her happy; but I also loved the old man, and I prized his expert opinion on many things.
Watson burst out of the shadowy tunnel of the lane and into the open field beyond. The going was a lot rougher as we bounced over furrows—tall grass slapping at the windscreen and showering us with seeds. And it was getting darker with every passing minute.
“Mom! For Pete’s sake! You’re shaking my fillings loose.”
“Oh, sorry, honey. I’ll slow down.”
“You don’t fool me at all! This is exactly why you wanted to buy Watson in the first place. You’re having the time of your life!”
Andy Joiner had parked his cruiser with the headlights shining towards the tangled thicket at the end of the soccer field. Dad had built us a tree house in that woodsy glen when Velvet and I were children—when it wasn’t so overgrown. Later, he insisted that the forest remain in its natural state so that the animals—deer, rabbits, and foxes would have a place to forage and raise their young. I still remembered every inch of the place we called “the jungle.” If Nell Jane were lost in there, I would be the perfect candidate to go in after her.
“But, damn it, Andy! I spent half my childhood playing Tarzan in that thicket! And to tell you the truth,” I said, lowering my voice, “your deputies are a little too porky to go crawling around under those vines. Now, I could….”
“Paisley, you know perfectly well that I can’t let a civilian take part in a potentially hazardous police investigation.”
“Then deputize me! I’ll be the best deputy you’ve ever had! Please, Andy, please!”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said, scratching his head, then rolling his hat brim nervously his big hands. “We’re not real sure of what we’re dealing with here.”
“One thing’s for certain—a frightened little girl is lost and we’re wasting valuable time hemming and hawing.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.”
Thirty minutes later I was bitterly regretting my insistence on becoming Lakeland County’s newest public servant. My hair was full of twigs and leaves, and my face scratched and burning where I had brushed against vines and stinging nettles. I had crawled on my hands and knees, slithered on my belly, and fought my way through the dense underbrush with nothing but the flashlight Andy had given me.
“My kingdom for a machete!” I gasped, as I wiped the sweat off my face and plucked a burr from behind my ear. A lot of years had passed since I last played under the low limbs of the willow and sassafras growing in wild profusion in our jungle. I hated to admit it, but I had lost all sense of direction. Blackberry, scuppernong, and honeysuckle vines wound around every tree and bush and filled all of the spaces in between. I felt like I was tangled up inside a big prickly ball of yarn.
I tried to stand, but there wasn’t any room. My head struck the low hanging limb of a cedar and something with too many legs scurried across my hand as I rubbed the tender spot. Tears of frustration and anger filled my eyes. Andy Joiner would never let me forget it, but I had to confess that I was licked.
I was turning around to go back the way I came when I heard a small snuffling sound off to my left.
“Nell Jane?” I called softly. “Honey, is that you?”
The crying increased, but there was no answer. I crawled forward, calling softly so as not to frighten the child even more.
“Nell Jane, sweetheart, it’s Paisley Sterling. You know me, honey. Why, just this afternoon you gave me a beautiful card. I bet you made that card didn’t you?”
“Ye…yes,” called a hesitant little voice over the tears.
“Well, you are quite an artist. Your mother must be very proud of you.”
The crying increased in both volume and tempo, but the little girl refused to respond to any more of my questions. Thorns tore at my clothes and caught at my hair as I made my way toward her. I swore viciously when I put my hand down on something quick and slimy, and apologized to the child automatically. I was rewarded by a tiny little laugh.
“That’s the ticket,” I told her. “Laugh at me all you want. Can you see my flashlight? Am I getting close?”
“Yes,” she answered. “You’re all dirty.”
I pointed the flashlight in the direction of her voice and saw the child clinging to the trunk of a small sassafras. She didn’t look any better than I did. Her shirt was torn and every bare inch of her skin was crisscrossed with scratches. Somewhere she had lost her shorts, and her legs looked thin and vulnerable sticking out of her little white cotton panties.
“Hi, Nell Jane,” I said, with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Later, I couldn’t remember how I got us out of the jungle; but I do know I left a good bit of my hide and several hunks of hair behind. I handed the little girl over to the paramedics and stumbled toward Watson and my own distraught child.
“Mom! Oh, my God! What have you done to yourself?”
Cassie took off her sweater and wrapped it around my shoulders. It wasn’t until I felt its warmth that I realized I was shivering.
“You should let one of the paramedics check you out, Mom,” she insisted.
“No. I just want to go home. A bath is all I need—a nice warm bath.”
Cassie helped me in the Jeep and gave me a quick hug. She had turned the car around to head for home when Andy came running over in front of Watson waving his arms.
“Paisley!” he called. “You were right. Thanks for finding her.” He took a closer look at me under the harsh glare of the emergency lights. “I need to ask you some questions, but it can wait.” He started to walk away, and turned back. “You really ought’a see one of the paramedics, you know.”
“I’m fine, Andy,” I assured him. “See you later.”
Cassie drove slowly and carefully over the bumpy field. As we got farther and farther away from the ring of emergency vehicles, the darkness seemed to devour us.
I leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath—sighing as I exhaled.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?”
“Well, let’s see,” I answered, taking stock. “I have bump as big as a goose egg on my head. My favorite jeans are ruined. I crawled through a big old patch of poison ivy. And I think I swallowed a spider, but other then that, I’m just hunky-dory.”
“You’re a hero, you know,” said my daughter, with a proud smile.
“Big whoop.”
Chapter Four
The
