Free Gone South (A Butterscotch Jones Mystery Book 3) by Melanie Jackson

backside s of rocks and bushes,” I instructed. “Don’t put any where the thugs will see it. We don’t want them warned. Be quick. We need to get out before the bears arrive.”
    “Will they come soon?” Chuck asked.
    “I hope not. They’ve been nesting here at night. If we are lucky, they won’t come back until full dark. But I don’t want to chance it. It’s getting late and the cabin is a ways f a rther on.”
    From his haste, I could see Chuck agreed about not being around when the bears returned.
    We had perhaps an hour of daylight when I found the remains of the cabin. It had deteriorated over the years. The floor was covered in silt. Clearly the stream had flood ed the shack in the not so distant past. The builder had been crazy to choose a spot so near the river . You know what they say — location, location, location. But we were in no danger of floods that night and it put a roof over our head s and some walls between us and the wild. A determined bear could get inside, but Chuck probably didn’t know that. And I wouldn’t tell him since he seemed to finally be relaxing.
    I picked up a dented aluminum pot that had cemented itself in the mud. There were some desiccated pinecones and broken limbs washed into the corner that were the right size for kindling. There was also a fine selection of cobwebs, but they were filthy and their owners had moved on long ago.
    “ Can you start a fire ?”
    “Sure. In here?”
    We looked up. No chimney vent.
    “ No. B etter do it outside in case it smokes . I’m going to go catch some dinner. That stream should be good for something besides covering our tracks. ”
    “What? You mean you’re going fishing?” Chuck sounded a little panicked.
    “Yes.”
    “Without a rod?”
    And without me?
    “I don’t need one. And I know you don’t like drinking stream water, but we are going to boil up some coffee first thing and you are going to drink it. We have been working hard and we are both dehydrated.”
    “Okay.” Chuck sounded dubious. “You want the gun?”
    “You keep it. ” Then I repeated the same words I’d been saying all day. “It’s going to be okay.”
     
    *  *  *
     
    Jimmy Nine Toes walked at the tail end of a column of men , allowing the others ahead of him to clear a trail. He wheezed heavily though he carried nothing but a small attaché case containing his personal belongings, depending upon his subordinates to pack in the camping gear and heavy equipment. They stopped to take a much needed breather when his lead enforcer and right - hand man, Tony Scarlatti, called the column to a halt. Jimmy had put Tony in charge of leading the pursuit since he knew that Tony had once been a Boy Scout. Tony worked his way back along the line of men until he came to Jimmy, who was exhausted from the exertion of tromping through the forest for the last several hours.
    “It’s almost nightfall, Mr. James,” Tony said. “There’s a clearing up ahead that should be perfect for setting up our base camp.”
    “Alright. Have the men start unpacking the tents and camping gear and clearing the space of debris. I’ll leave it to you to set up the communications array.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Jimmy used a silk handkerchief he pulled from the pocket of his business coat to wipe the sweat from his brow. His leather shoes were a mess but there hadn’t been time to order hiking boots that would fit his custom orthotic. Having nine toes was a bitch.
    Tony worked his way back to the head of the column , issuing orders along the way as to who was to do what. The exhausted men spread out when they reached the clearing, looking more like a well-organized group of soldiers than the rabble of street punks and murderers that they really were. It was too bad about that poison ivy they’d wandered into before Tony could stop them. Some of the guys were already scratching.
    Jimmy tried his cell phone and, sure enough, received no signal. He would have to wait for the