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Back Low Country Save as PDF
Chapters (25)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. CHAPTER 1
  4. CHAPTER 2
  5. CHAPTER 3
  6. CHAPTER 4
  7. CHAPTER 5
  8. CHAPTER 6
  9. CHAPTER 7
  10. CHAPTER 8
  11. CHAPTER 9
  12. CHAPTER 10
  13. CHAPTER 11
  14. CHAPTER 12
  15. CHAPTER 13
  16. CHAPTER 14
  17. CHAPTER 15
  18. CHAPTER 16
  19. CHAPTER 17
  20. CHAPTER 18
  21. CHAPTER 19
  22. CHAPTER 20
  23. CHAPTER 21
  24. CHAPTER 22
  25. CHAPTER 23

“No, it’ll be good to have someone out there for a change. You know how a place will fall in if it doesn’t have a human in it now and then. I don’t know what it is, but somehow or other buildings know when they’re not appreciated. You’d be doing me a big favor.”

“Well, since you put it that way—I’ll accept your kind offer,” I responded with gratitude.

“Great,” he replied as he took a key from the ring in his pocket and pitched it over.

He then wrote on a scrap of paper and passed it to me. “That’s the address and a map to the place. The key fits the gate and the lock on the cabin. The place is covered with trees, so if a limb is down in the drive you’ll find a chainsaw in the shed behind the cabin—key fits the lock on the shed, too.”

I picked up the piece of paper and rose to leave. “I’ll call and let you know how things look when I get out there,” I said.

“I’ll get ahold of Danny Ray and see if while he’s there with you he can patch up the things that need fixing,” Bob said as he, too, stood.

I held the key aloft and twitched it at him. “Gracias, viejo.”

“De nada, joven,” he replied. “Now, clear on out of here. Some of us have work to do, and I can’t spend the whole day jabbering with you.

“See you, Bob,” I said as I turned to the door.

“Later,” he replied as he went back to where he was when I entered and resumed his perch on the stool.

As I closed the door I glanced over my shoulder and saw my friend sitting with head lowered and face downcast—his chest heaving wildly as he struggled to catch his breath.

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11

TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT, OR AS LIGHT AS it gets in Savannah, as I made my way to police headquarters downtown. The building sits in the historic district at the intersection of Broughton and Oglethorpe streets. I circled the place once and started to turn in to the indicated parking area, but for some reason, I turned down a side street and parked a block away. I guess it was one of those emotional decisions Bob had spoken of.

Before I got out of the car, I gave myself a good going-over. Only thing I had on my person that I needed to jettison was my folding knife. I slipped it from its accustomed place in my waistband and deposited it in the console with my pistol where I locked both away.