One Grave Less (13 page)

“Me too. I’ll keep you in the loop. You do the same,” he said.

The last sounded more like a warning. Diane thought he was probably afraid that she, David, and now Gregory would keep information to themselves.
And we would if we could
, she thought.

“I will,” Diane said.

Diane hung up and turned her attention to David and Gregory, telling them what she had learned from Garnett.

“I talked with Simone a lot when we worked together,” said Gregory. “Did you know she once had a sister?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Diane.

David shook his head. “Neither did I.”

“Phoebe was her name. She was a bit older than Simone. She was a first child and all. When she was five she ran into the road and was hit by a lorry. Simone’s mother had a tendency to be controlling before then, but after the accident it got so much worse. Her father, I think, used up all his energy dealing with the grief. He had none left to disagree with his wife’s raising of the surviving children. At least, that was my take on him.”

“That’s a sad story,” said Diane. “You can’t blame her for wanting to hold on tightly to her other children.”

“Perhaps,” said Gregory. “But the ugly side of me notices that she now has complete control over Simone. Something she has never had, even when Simone was young.”

 

Diane took Gregory home with her. Frank was bringing Thai from one of his favorite restaurants. David wanted to stay at his office and continue trying to find the people they worked with in South America and shake loose their memories. Not a pleasant activity for anyone, but Diane hoped David would find something that would help them understand.

“You Americans like your four-by-fours,” said Gregory. “Does this one drive well?”

“I like it,” said Diane. “Unfortunately, I’ve gone through several. Perps seem to like to take aim at my vehicles.”

“Really? You deal with perpetrators? I would think the detectives did that.”

“They do,” said Diane. “I’ve just had a lot of bad luck.”

“Obviously you are well thought of,” said Gregory.

“Until I started dealing drugs and being loose around men,” said Diane.

Gregory gave a short laugh. “Nice cottage,” he said as he spotted Frank’s Queen Anne-style house through the stand of trees. “Is this where you are going to live after you are married?”

“Yes, we are. I like it, and Frank has lived here for a long time.”

Frank was already home when they entered. Diane could smell the Thai food warming. He greeted them in the entryway with glasses of wine.

“So good to meet you,” said Gregory. “Diane has told me a lot about you. Must be a good chap if Diane likes you.”

“And I’ve heard a lot about you. Your diplomatic sensibilities have had a good effect on her,” said Frank.

He led them into the living room while the food warmed. They sat down and talked about the upcoming wedding that Diane knew so little about. After a while, Gregory leaned forward, taking a packet of papers out of his coat pocket.

“This is as good a time as any. I have a wedding gift for you, Diane.” Gregory’s voice cracked a little as he spoke. “At the time I got them, well, I couldn’t give them to you. But I asked Marguerite about it and she said now it would be all right. She said it would break your heart, but you would still like to have them. Marguerite is good about these things.” He handed Diane the papers.

Diane opened the enveloped as Frank looked on. She shook when she saw what it was. Frank put an arm around her shoulder.

Ariel’s adoption papers.

Diane pressed them against her heart and tears flowed down her cheeks. Her lips trembled and she couldn’t speak.

“They came the day of the massacre. As you know, we were out in the field. I was keeping them until that evening where I was going to surprise you and we were going to celebrate. Well, ahem.” He cleared his throat. “You know what we found at the mission that evening. It seemed too cruel to give them to you then. But I thought you ought to have them. Forgive me if I overstepped.”

It was several moments before Diane found her voice, and then it was a whisper.

“Marguerite was right.”

Maria stood just out of sight of the truck. She parted the large leaves and peeked at the vehicle. She saw no one, but the truck had a subtle erratic sway that was puzzling. She whispered for Rosetta to stay hidden and she moved closer, holding tightly to the gun.

As she watched the truck, a mottled green and black ribbon of enormous proportions undulated just above the sides of the truck bed and disappeared.

“Oh, no,” she said in her pained, whiskey-sounding voice. “Not this.”

She looked up and saw that she had parked under a low limb of a tree.

“Why did I do that?” she whispered to herself.

Rosetta came up beside her and she jumped.

“Sorry,” Rosetta whispered. “I heard you talking. What is it?”

“A snake. A really, really big snake.”

Rosetta’s eyes got wide. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to get a look. “What kind?”

“My guess, from the size and color, a female anaconda,” said Maria. “You know, I’m just not good with snakes.”

Rosetta gave her a sideways glance. “Indiana Jones said the same thing.”

Maria thought she detected a bit of smugness in Rosetta’s voice.

“Stay right here.” Maria took a fortifying breath and walked toward the truck, getting just close enough to see into it. A gigantic snake, bigger around than Maria’s leg, perhaps bigger around than her waist, and longer than the truck, filled the bed of the pickup, coiling over and covering the cargo of food and supplies. It was olive green with markings of darker green, black, and yellow. Colors of the rainbow glinted off its scales. Its wedge-shaped head looked as big as a football. Its forked purple-black tongue licked out at least a foot into the air in front of its nose. If it weren’t so horrific, it would be beautiful.

“Pick me up so I can see.” Rosetta tugged on Maria’s sleeve.

Maria jumped again. “I thought I told you to stay a safe distance.”

“I’ll be okay. I want to see.”

Maria picked her up so she could see into the bed of the truck.

“Wow,” Rosetta said. “That is a big one. It is called a yakumama. I have never seen one this big.”

Maria put her down on the ground but held on to her hand, fearful that the little girl would run up to the bed of the truck for a closer look.

“Do you know how to get a snake out of a truck?” asked Maria.

Rosetta shrugged elaborately.

“Have you ever seen anyone with this problem?” she asked.

Rosetta shook her head. “Mostly we just leave them alone. Some people catch them, but I don’t know how they do it. You don’t want to make it mad.”

Maria picked up Rosetta and carried her to the cab of the truck and put her inside, climbed in after her, closed the door, and rolled up the window. She sat tapping the steering wheel with her index finger.

“Maybe I can get a loop around it, tie the other end to a tree and ease forward, and she will slide out,” she said, mostly to herself.

“You going to get back there and put a rope around it?” asked Rosetta, who had turned around and was watching the snake.

Maria turned and looked out the back glass.

“It’s unlikely,” she said.

“You could offer it something to eat,” said Rosetta.

“Like what?”

“I know they like birds, and fish, and deer.”

“Don’t have any of those,” said Maria. “Oh, well, what the heck.”

She opened the door and jumped out of the cab of the truck.

“Stay here. I mean it.”

She walked softly to the back of the truck, opened the tailgate, and ran back to the cab, jumped in, and slammed the door shut. She let herself have one good shiver and started the truck.

“Get down on the floor,” she told Rosetta.

Rosetta slid off the seat and squatted, hugging her backpack.

“What are you going to do?” She looked at Maria, wide-eyed.

Maria didn’t answer. She moved the truck forward and stopped abruptly, then did the same thing in reverse several times.

“You are going to make her sick or mad,” said Rosetta.

Maria stopped and put her head down on her arms.

“I really don’t like snakes,” she said. “I’m going to dream about this the rest of my life.”

“Mama isn’t afraid of snakes,” said Rosetta, climbing back onto the seat.

Maria raised her head and smiled at the little girl. “What would she do?”

Rosetta shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess she would just say, well, we have a snake.”

“It appears that we do,” said Maria. “I suppose it will leave sooner or later. It isn’t going to want to live in the back of our truck. I hope.”

Maria checked the gas gauge. They had a little over a quarter of a tank. The truck was equipped with spare tanks on the side of the bed for extra gas. A necessity when gas stations were rare. The tanks were full.
Lucky
, Maria thought, more than once. She could keep driving now, but soon she was going to have to put more gas in the main tank. And that would require working around the snake if it didn’t move on.

“Isn’t it funny that, just a little while ago, you were telling me about the snake in the Harry Potter story?” said Rosetta.

“Yes, very funny,” said Maria as she navigated the truck along the primitive road.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if we could understand her language?” Rosetta said. She had turned in the seat and was now on her knees looking at the anaconda.

“It would. Then I could politely ask her to leave,” said Maria.

“Tell me some more of the story,” said Rosetta, settling back into her seat.

Talking wasn’t helping Maria’s voice any, but it was helping Rosetta, so Maria picked up on the story where Rosetta said she last remembered. As the story unfolded, Maria kept one eye on the gas gauge and the other on the animal trail that passed for the road they were traveling on . . . with quick glances into the rearview mirror to watch for any movement of their new passenger.

When the needle on the gauge got into the red, Maria stopped the truck and looked out the back window. They still had their ride-along. Maria turned to Rosetta.

“The truck needs gas. I need to put some in the tank before it gets too dark.”

“The snake won’t eat you. You’re too big,” said Rosetta. “I don’t think it will.”

Small comfort.

“You could try talking to her,” said Rosetta.

“I’ll give it a try,” said Maria.

She got out of the truck and walked over to the nearest spare gas tank. She peeked in the back of the truck. Partially under the snake, who had curled up in apparent comfort, there was a hose that Maria guessed was used to siphon the gas.

“Don’t you need to be near water?” Maria said to the snake.

The snake paid no attention to her.

Maria spotted Rosetta in the rear window. Her lips were moving, but Maria couldn’t hear her. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the little girl was saying Hail Marys.

Maria watched the snake as she moved her hand toward a part of the hose that was clear. She grasped the hose and gently began to pull. The snake moved her head around and flicked her wet, glistening tongue toward Maria.

“Oh, shit,” said Maria. “Look, snake, I just want to put gas in the truck.”

Maria had read up on jungle predators before she came. Anacondas weren’t the most dangerous of animals, but on the other hand, it was not a good idea to provoke one. And, though they were not poisonous, they did have a mouth full of teeth that held on to their prey better than fishhooks.

Maria freed a loop of the hose and backed off. She had an idea. She went back to the cab of the truck and got a rope that she’d discovered behind her seat. It wasn’t in good condition, but she thought it would do the job.

She had to steel herself before she could go out again. All she could think about was those teeth latching on to her and that huge body coiling around her, squeezing the life out of her.

“Gotta do it,” she whispered, got out and walked to the side of the truck.

Slowly and carefully she tied one end of the rope to the hose, never taking her eyes off the snake. The snake writhed slowly and silently. Maria hurried. When she had tied the rope to the hose as tightly as she could, she climbed back in the cab with the other end of the rope and began to pull the hose free from under the snake.

The anaconda’s writhing became more agitated.

Damn
, she thought. The only thing worse than a giant snake in the truck was a giant
mad
snake in the truck.

“Okay,” she said. “We aren’t completely out of gas; we can do this in stages. Give the girl a chance to calm down.” At least she had the rope and hose.

Maria started the truck engine and drove, watching the needle on the gas gauge. The trail was getting narrower and the jungle thicker. She was wondering if it was a mistake to have come this way. Should they have followed one of the other roads and simply abandoned the truck near a village? Just be travelers on foot?

Still, people did use this route. The path was too wide to be only an animal path. There were ruts and old tire tracks. She kept going, but more slowly.

There was a branch hanging low over the road ahead. She wished the anaconda would take the opportunity to climb onto it.

She drove cautiously under the branch, the motion of the truck pushing it up and over the windshield . . . and came face-to-face with a man standing in the road pointing a gun at them.

Sleep came easily for Diane. She drifted off without the tossing and turning of the past few nights. The adoption papers meant more to her than she could have known they would. Ariel had always been her daughter in her heart. She never thought of her in any other way. To other people, especially the authorities, the papers showed that Ariel was officially her daughter. And though what they thought didn’t really matter, it somehow did. Strangely, it brought her some peace. Maybe in a few months Diane could do something she hadn’t been able to do before—give Ariel a memorial service.