They sat for a long spell in silence, but it was no longer as heavy, or as haunted. Footsteps finally interrupted.
Jack’s second-in-command joined them. She had been introduced earlier. Scott Nester was from Arkansas and still carried a bit of hillbilly drawl in his voice, but his attitude was all professional.
“Sir, we still haven’t raised anyone at the farm on the radio. How do you want to proceed? I can call the chopper to have them head out there.”
Jack stood up, the warmth and intimacy evaporating as he assumed the mantle of responsibility. “The farm was told to evacuate. Maybe that’s why no one’s answered. Have you been able to confirm that they left?”
“I have Kesler still making calls.”
From Jack’s expression, he was still weighing whether to call in the chopper. She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. She lifted her hand. “That much noise from a helicopter, the blaze of its searchlights… if the cat’s nearby, the commotion might drive it off. We could lose this opportunity.”
Jack considered her advice, then checked his watch. “We should reach the farm in another five minutes. The chopper can’t get there much faster. Still, Scotty, go ahead and call the pilot. Make sure he keeps that bird’s engine hot. We don’t want-”
He was cut off by the pounding of boots. Another agent ran up. He looked barely older than a teenager.
Jack faced him. “What is it, Kesler?”
“Sir, I just fielded a call about the farm.”
“Did they evacuate?”
“No, sir. I don’t know, sir.”
Jack stared hard at the man, willing him to calm down.
He took a gulping breath. “After making several calls, I received one back. From the local chapter of the Boy Scouts. According to the call, a group of scouts was headed to the farm this morning, to camp there for the week.”
Lorna’s heart sank into her belly.
“No one’s heard from them since.”
Chapter 15
Stella ran across the elevated boardwalks toward the campsite. Children’s screams continued to burst out, sharp and sibilant, but they were now punctuated by the deeper shouts from scoutmasters and chaperoning parents.
Her bare feet slapped against the boards, followed by the harder pounding of Garland Chase’s boots. He swore a blue streak next to her, a walkie-talkie pressed to his lips.
“Get everyone over to the camp!” he hollered.
More fleet of foot, she reached the cleared section of old-growth forest first. Lanterns were strung on lines. A few campfires glowed. Tents dotted the open ground in an array of colors and sizes, from an old army-surplus pup tents to elaborate gazebos purchased from the local REI. There were also piles of kayaks, fishing gear, and empty sleeping bags strewn about like the skins of shedding snakes.
She ran up to one of the scoutmasters, a robust fellow whose belly strained his khaki uniform. His face was a sweaty crimson. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
The screaming rose from the far side of the camp, but it seemed to be already subsiding.
“Just some spooked kids,” the scoutmaster said with a scowl. “They were out gathering firewood. Claimed they saw a swamp monster. Came running back screaming bloody murder. After all the campfire ghost stories, it was like throwing gasoline on fire. Got all the kids running and hollering, half in real terror, half in play.”
Gar swore under his breath. He had his shotgun clutched in one hand, the other rested on a knee as he leaned over, huffing and gasping from the sprint. “Goddamn kids…”
“Sorry,” the camp leader said. “We’ll get ’em back under control. Put 'em all to bed. There won’t be any more trouble.”
One of the scouts arrived. Redheaded and freckled, he looked to be around eighteen. Probably an Eagle Scout acting as the scoutmaster’s assistant. He dragged an eleven-year-old boy by an elbow. “Here’s one of the kids causing all the trouble.”
The boy wore swimming trunks and a Gryffindor T-shirt. His eyes were huge, glassy. He trembled with fright-not because he was in trouble. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the forest.
The scoutmaster grabbed his chin and made the boy face him. “Ty, look at the ruckus you’ve caused with your silly story. Do you want me to send you home right now? What would your parents think about that?”
The boy strained against the grip holding him, near panic. Whatever had happened out in the swamp, this kid believed it was a monster.
Dropping to a knee to get eye level with him, Stella reached over and freed the boy from the older men. She kept hold of his shoulders. “Ty, tell me what you saw.”
He again glanced toward the forest, then to her. “I didn’t get a good look.” His voice was a scared whisper. “It was all white. Saw it leap over the water and back into the woods. We hightailed it out of there.”
“Probably just a deer,” Gar said with a dismissive sneer. “Little bastard’s just scared of the dark.”
The boy’s shaking grew worse at Gar’s threatening manner. Stella scowled, silently telling the bastard to shut up. The boy had seen something. But what? She remembered catching a fleeting glimpse of something herself in the woods, a ghostly shape that seemed to capture and hold the moonlight.
“It was big,” the boy said. “Lots bigger than a deer.”
“How big?” she asked.
“Like a… I don’t know…” He swept his arms wide. “Least as big as a small car.”
Gar snorted and shouldered his shotgun.
Stella stood up. A coldness ran through her. Without missing a beat, she turned to the scoutmaster. “I want you to gather all the children and head over to my house.”
She pointed to her parents’ two-story log cabin. Built stoutly of cypress logs, it had ridden out Katrina safely. She wanted everyone under cover, not out in the open.
“What are you talking about?” the scoutmaster asked. “Why?”
She took a deep breath. Earlier in the day, she had taken the call herself about a big cat loose near the coast. The details had been sketchy, except for one detail. The cat was said to be huge. She did her best to keep panic out of her voice.
“There’s been a report of a large jaguar loose in the bayou,” she said. “Escaped from a shipwreck along the coast, far from here, but let’s not take any chances.”
The scoutmaster looked stunned. “Why wasn’t I told about-”
By now, Gar’s team had arrived. The men came puffing up, rifles in hand. Gar seemed to draw strength from their numbers. He lifted an arm. “Now let’s all calm down. I heard about that report, too. Big cat or not, there’s no way a jaguar covered that much ground in a single day. So let’s not get all riled up just because some kid jumps at his own shadow.”