Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

The thing about undercover work is that instead of laying low and trying to stay out of trouble, you basically walk around with your stick and jab it into every beehive you can find just to see what flies out. Tomasetti would tell me I’m a natural. The problem is, those beestings can hurt. If they swarm, they can kill you.

The aerial photos tell me the woods north of the trailer encompass hundreds of acres of rolling hills, ravines, and the occasional creek. Since the note didn’t specify the exact location where I would discover this mysterious truth—if it indeed exists—I decide to head straight north a quarter mile or so. I’ll follow Suggs’s instructions and give it an hour.

At eleven thirty P.M. I’m bundled in long underwear, two pair of socks, my dress, cardigan, and barn coat. I slide the .22 into its holster beneath my skirt, over the long underwear for easy access. The pepper spray goes in my coat pocket, the mini Maglite flashlight in the other.

Standing at the door, I call Suggs. “I’m heading out.”

“Be safe and call me in an hour, or before if you need to.”

“Roger that.”

I disconnect and tuck the cell into my pocket. Wrapping a scarf around my head and neck, I pull on my Walmart gloves. A quick glance through the window tells me it’s dark and I can’t see shit. And, of course, it’s snowing like the dickens.

Locking the door behind me, I descend the steps and set out. It’s twenty degrees with a wind chill in the single digits. The snow on the ground reflects just enough light for me to avoid any close encounters with the trees, but it does little to light my way. I consider using the flashlight, but it would make me visible to anyone else out here, so I nix the idea.

I push myself into a brisk pace, swinging my arms to stay warm. I head due north, in the general direction of the area where I saw the men on snowmobiles. Occasionally I stop to make note of landmarks and listen for the whine of engines, but the only sound is the whisper of wind through the trees and my boots squeaking against the snow.

It takes me ten minutes to reach my destination. The tracks are long gone—covered by new snow—but I recognize the area. I decide to hunker down for a while and see what happens.