The Marsh Madness

“I thought I’d be careful in case the cops or someone got hold of the message even though it was burner to burner.”


“But I had Walter with me. What happened to him? He could have been hit by a car or something. He won’t know what’s—”

As my voice rose, Kev cut in. “Don’t worry about the little doggie. Your cop friend picked him up when he tried to chase the van.”

All I could utter was a strangled gasp.

Kev added, “He had a hard time hanging on to the pooch without dropping his towel or his cell phone. It’s all good news. I hope someone got a video of it.”

I stared at Kev as I imagined that scene. Smiley would have been reporting my kidnapping. The neighborhood would be swarming with police in minutes. He probably would have had to admit that I’d used a key to get into his house. No doubt some helpful person on the street would have spotted me coming or going as well as Smiley in his towel.

“It was pretty funny, Jordie.”

Sure it was. I’d been rolling around on the floor of the van, terrified. Smiley would have been better off, but not much. Walter would be hungry and peevish.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s get out of here.” I glanced around. Kev had tucked the van into a small clearing in the woods.

“Great. Come on in.”

For the first time I focused on something other than woods and van. “In where?”

He puffed up with pride. “Our cabin.”

“We don’t have a cabin.”

“Hey, we do now. Wait till you see it.”

I followed him into a larger clearing. There was no question that I was looking at a quite lovely log cabin in the middle of nowhere. If you like log cabins in the middle of nowhere. I was pretty sure I didn’t. I’m more of a library and art gallery and vintage shop and formal dining room kind of girl.

“What if someone sees the van, Uncle Kev?”

I hated that van, yet now I needed to protect it.

“No one’s going to see it. They don’t even park there. They park by the house.”

I just had to let that go. There wasn’t much I could do about it. Driving off in a van that was all over the news seemed like it would just make a bad situation worse.

Uncle Kev strode ahead and opened the door. I followed, but only after giving a longing look back to civilization, assuming that it was in the same direction. I had no real reason to assume that. Mainly, I stared at trees, thick, dark, impenetrable, as far as the eye could see, except for the dirt track I assumed we had lurched in on.

Kev disappeared into the cabin, and I followed. What else could I have done?

Inside, there were more surprises. Mainly, food. It looked like the signora had catered for our hideout. There was a huge dish of stuffed manicotti, a mountain of rolls that smelled freshly baked, green beans and salad. I glanced around, worried that the signora and Vera had also been ’napped, but it was only me.

It felt wrong eating, but I was ravenous. I suppose being faux-kidnapped can do that to a person. When I’d wolfed down the last bite, I felt calm and soothed enough to ask, “When did you rent this cabin, Uncle Kev?”

Kev chortled. “I didn’t rent it, Jordie. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

I chose not to answer that. Not that Uncle Kev takes offense that easily, but I was marooned here—wherever “here” was—with him, and he’s hard to take when his feelings are hurt.

“How, then? Exactly how did you borrow it?”

He wagged his finger under my nose. I felt like biting it off, but I put that down to recent stress. “Don’t want to leave any kind of trail.”

I sighed. If you didn’t want to leave a trail, maybe kidnapping someone in broad daylight in sight of a serving police officer wasn’t the way to go.