Despite the winter month, many of the trees in this area were still choked with kudzu and other undergrowth, and now and then a rusted truck or tractor would peek out of the foliage like some sentient observer. The most surreal moment of their journey had come when ten- or eleven-foot wire fences had risen out of the grass on both sides of the road, giving them the feeling they were traveling through a prison compound. Soon after, they’d begun to spy strange animals through the wire. Caitlin had seen moose, antelope, buffalo, and other creatures that looked only vaguely familiar. With her African work experience, Jordan had recognized several as oryx, springbok, gemsbok, and impala, but other species left even her stumped. Caitlin was reminded of a story she’d read as a child—Jules Verne, perhaps—in which the farther the heroes traveled upstream on a certain river, the deeper back in time they progressed. This trip felt exactly like that.

At least it had until Walt called her. When Caitlin heard that Tom had probably been kidnapped, a black dread had begun to ooze from someplace within her. What she felt was guilt—guilt that she’d known where Tom was but had kept it to herself, and away from Penn. Last night, after they’d made love at Edelweiss, Penn had sensed that she was holding something back, and she’d denied it. If Tom died now, and Penn discovered that she might have prevented it . . . he would never forgive her.

She might never forgive herself.

“Look!” Jordan cried, pointing out the windshield. She hit the brakes and moved slowly into a dirt turnaround. Forty feet from the car, greenish-black water lay across the ground, and farther on, it led back into a forest of cypress knees and overhanging branches.

They had found the swamp.

Caitlin had Jordan drive almost to the water’s edge and park. This was the place Toby Rambin had described to her. A rusted old school bus that had once been yellow protruded from the trees to her right. Dying kudzu vines lay across the bus like strangling ropes. Caitlin reached into her bag and pulled out the red bandanna that Rambin had requested she wear.

“Where’s our poacher?” Jordan asked, climbing out of the car.

Caitlin shrugged and tied the bandanna around her neck. Then she got out, her mind still on Walt’s terrible revelation. The sulfurous stink of the swamp struck her with surprising force, filling her nose and lungs. She hadn’t expected that noxious fume in the chilly weather, but then, she had no experience of swamps. Jordan, on the other hand, was scanning the clearing like a professional surveyor.

“He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago,” Caitlin said.

“I’ve been in this situation a hundred times,” Jordan said. “I set up a guide to take me into a war zone, and he shows up four hours late, if at all.”

“Let’s hope this isn’t a war zone,” Caitlin said, half under her breath.

Jordan peered into the shadows under the distant trees. “After all you told me about the Bone Tree, this feels like some kind of elephant graveyard thing.”

“After what we saw on the way in, an elephant wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Wait.” Jordan cocked her head and held up her hand. “Do you hear that?”

Caitlin listened hard, but she heard only birds and frogs. “What is it?”

“Motorcycle. Was Rambin coming on a motorcycle?”

“I don’t see how. He’s supposed to bring a boat.”

Jordan reached into the car and brought out a 9 mm pistol.

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.”