Caitlin could hear the motorcycle now. It was definitely coming toward them, probably on the same road they’d traveled. The whining engine rose and fell like a chain saw cutting up a fallen tree, but soon the whine became constant and steadily ascended the scale. Then suddenly the cycle flashed out of the trees and skidded to a stop beside their vehicle.
The rider wore a silver helmet, but he took it off immediately, revealing the face of a black boy who looked no older than fifteen. He jumped when he saw Jordan’s pistol, but then he settled down, as though accustomed to being around handguns.
“Which one of you’s Masters?” he asked, his eyes curious.
“I am,” Caitlin said, stepping up to him. “How do you know my name?”
“Toby sent me.”
Caitlin cut her eyes at Jordan. “Toby who?”
“Toby Rambin. Old Toby.”
“Where’s Toby himself?” Caitlin asked.
“He had to leave town.” The boy smiled. “In a hurry.”
Jordan looked at Caitlin as if to say, Didn’t I tell you?
“What are you doing here, then?” Caitlin asked.
The boy surveyed her from head to toe without shame. He seemed to like what he saw. “Toby told me I should bring you something.”
Jordan walked up to the boy. “Hand it over, then.”
The boy shook his head, his eyes on her pistol. “Hold up, now. Toby said you gotta pay first.”
“How much?” Caitlin asked.
“Toby say a thousand.”
“Shit,” Jordan scoffed. “In your dreams. What are you selling?”
“Map,” said the boy. “Toby drawed you a map. He say what you lookin’ for be marked with an X. All you need is a boat to find it.”
Caitlin and Jordan shared a look.
“I was going to pay him four times that to guide me to the tree,” Caitlin admitted. “But this is way short of that.”
“A thousand bucks for a hand-drawn map?” Jordan asked.
The boy shrugged. “That’s what Toby said. He said if you don’t pay, I should ride back to town and forget about all of it.”
Caitlin took the fat bank envelope from her back pocket and stared at it. Inside were forty hundred-dollar bills. The money meant nothing to her.
“Wait,” Jordan said. “You have no way of knowing whether the map is real, even if he gives you one.”
“What choice do I have?”
“That’s right,” the boy said. “You gots to pay to play, right?”
“Not always,” said a much deeper voice from somewhere out of sight.
Jordan brought up her pistol with lightning speed, but neither she nor Caitlin saw a potential target. The boy’s eyes had gone saucer wide, and he started to bolt, but the voice stopped him where he stood.
“Dontae Edwards, this is Deputy Carl Sims. If you try to run on that bike, I’ll call your mama and have you in jail by noon. Now get off that thing and get the map out of your jacket, if there is one. And you put down that weapon, ma’am.”
Caitlin nodded with excitement. “Carl’s a friend! A good friend. I called him last night to check out Toby. I forgot to tell you.”
Jordan reluctantly laid the pistol on the car’s front seat.
“Get off the bike, Dontae!” shouted the voice.
The boy shook his head, then got off the motorcycle and set its kickstand.
Caitlin turned toward the sound of rustling undergrowth and saw a handsome young black man in a brown uniform step from behind the overgrown school bus. He looked about twenty-five, and he grinned and waved at them to reassure them he was no threat.
“Carl!” she cried, running forward. “What are you doing here?”
Sims smiled and hugged her. “Did you really think I’d let you meet some damned poacher down here without checking to be sure you were okay?”
A frightening thought hit Caitlin. “You didn’t call Penn, did you?”
“No, though I probably should have. I did just like you asked and quietly checked out Toby Rambin. But Toby’s not exactly a sterling character. I figured I’d better make sure this little deal went through as planned. And it obviously didn’t.”
Jordan offered her hand to Carl, who shook it with a smile.
“This is Jordan Glass,” Caitlin said. “She’s a big-time photographer.”
Carl’s smile spread into a grin. “Oh, I know the name. Proud to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand again. “You were in Fallujah for a week when I was there.”
“Army?” Jordan asked.
“Marine sniper.”
Jordan smiled and stood easy. “How about we take a look at this alleged map? I’m starting to feel like I’m stuck in Treasure Island.”
Carl held out his hand, and Dontae Edwards finally pulled a folded piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. He handed it to Carl, who unfolded it. The map looked as if it had been drawn on a paper towel taken from a dispenser in a public restroom.
“Looks real to me,” Carl said, studying curving lines that made Caitlin think of a child drawing with a crayon. “This area here looks like the Valhalla hunting camp, and over here is the federal wildlife refuge. Toby’s got one of the game fences marked here, about in the middle. And where this X is, is a deep stand of cypress. It’s one of the thickest parts of the swamp and covered with water most all year round.”
Caitlin nodded excitedly. “That sounds like what we’re looking for.”
Carl gave her a penetrating look. “I did what we talked about last night, but I didn’t learn much. Nothing that would confirm a location.”
On the phone last night, Carl had offered to have his father, a local pastor, discreetly question some members of his Athens Point congregation about the Bone Tree. Since the church was 100 percent African-American, Caitlin had felt it was worth the risk to gain good information. But apparently Reverend Sims had learned little.
Jordan poked her thumb at Dontae Edwards, who was paying close attention to their conversation.