Page 21 of Forgotten Path
“The seat in Joel’s car was pulled way up to the steering wheel. As if a short person was driving it.”
She frowned and felt her forehead furrow. “But Joel’s at least six feet tall.”
He didn’t say anything.
Her chest tightened. “You think he went to Oyster Point—or wherever he goes—and somebody else drove his car back?”
“Maybe.”
“With or without him?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I want to go to this little town myself. See what I can find out.”
Felicia’s gut clenched. “Be careful, please. And check in regularly.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“I am worried about you. So tell me that you’ll call me when you get there, and then keep me looped in.”
“I will, Felicia.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled shakily. “I can’t get all the traffic camera footage. But I’ll reach out to the Snapper Creek Service Plaza. That’s the one south of Miami. Anyone driving down to the Keys has to come through it. So if Joel’s Jeep left the Keys and returned over the weekend, it passed through Snapper Creek.”
“It’s a start.”
She ended the call and stared unseeingly at her paused workout video. The possibility that someone else might have returned Joel’s Jeep wasn’t an encouraging development. She found she didn’t care about toning her core at the moment. She turned off the video and drank her water, taking small, slow sips in the hopes that the calming rhythm would help settle her racing mind.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Bodhi cruised through Oyster Point’s small commercial district, searching in vain for an open parking spot. He reached the end of Ocean Street and turned left into a shopping center that housed two restaurants, a bar, and a liquor store. The spots in front of the businesses were all taken. He continued through the lot, intending to turn around and seek out a parking garage or a side street with metered parking. Then he spotted a hand-lettered sign. ‘Parking $10.’ An arrow pointed to a road that wound behind the strip mall.
While a ten-spot for a parking space in a town the size of a postage stamp was excessive, he’d been driving for nearly twelve hours, and his stiff, sore back and tight legs urged him to pay the money. So he followed the road, which led past a paper factory and down a small hill. At the bottom of the hill, the paved road gave way to a gravel path that opened into a large gravel lot.
A young boy, no older than twelve, sat on an upturned plastic crate under the shade of a beach umbrella. A small table to his right held a metal cashbox, a sports drink, and another hand-lettered sign. This one read ‘Cash Only. Exact Change Appreciated.’
Bodhi coasted to a stop near the boy and dug a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet as the kid popped up from his improvised seat and ran over to the Jeep.
“Hi, mister.”
“Hi, there.” He leaned out the window and handed over the money.
“Thanks.” The air whistled between a gap in the boy’s front teeth.
“Can I just park it anywhere?”
A handful of cars sat scattered in no order that Bodhi could discern. The lot, if that’s really what it was, was mostly empty.
“How long are you going to be?” The kid inquired, all business.
“I’m not sure. I’m going to the Juice Joint. Do you know where that is?”
“’Course I do. I know a shortcut, too. Go ahead and park in the first spot, right beside my station. I’ll keep an eye on it for you.”
“Thanks.”
Bodhi eased the car past the table and brought it to rest at the edge of the lot. His entire body seemed to sigh with relief when he unfurled himself and exited the vehicle. He paused to stretch his sides and back and roll his neck before locking the door and walking over to the kid’s table.
“Can you tell me about this shortcut to the juice place?”
