“We’ve gone far enough,” Landeta said. “You should be able to see the light.”
Louis was silent, his eyes straining in the darkness. The moon emerged and he saw its glint on the water. And then something else.
“I see something,” he said.
“Where?”
“Over to the right, about two o’clock.” He leaned forward, squinting. “It’s a light. I’m sure it’s a light.”
“Okay then. All you have to do now is aim at it.”
The light was growing larger. Louis could now make out the dark outline of the mangroves.
“Where’s the Deets?” Landeta asked.
“In the backpack,” Louis said.
“Put it on now. We’re going to need it when we get close.”
They had tried to think of everything they would need for a few hours of surveillance. Mosquito repellent, gloves, flashlights, a pocket knife, a camera with low-light film, and Landeta’s portable police radio. They both had guns strapped to their hips.
It hadn’t even occurred to Louis to question Landeta about his .45. He knew Landeta would probably never pull it tonight, let alone shoot at something he couldn’t see. What he needed was what all cops needed, the feel of it on his hip.
“Kill the motor,” Landeta said softly. “Island people know the sounds of their home, especially at night. We don’t want them to hear anything out of the ordinary.”
Louis cut the motor and Landeta picked up an oar. Louis did the same, and they paddled quietly in toward the mangroves. As they paddled past the dock, Louis tried to find the restaurant in the gloom of the trees and brush. Finally, he picked out the white boards, but all the lights inside were out.
They were heading to the western side of the island, looking for some place behind the fence where they could pull in. But Louis could see no dry land, no way into the tangle of mangrove roots. If they could just get off the water and under the cover of brush, they would have a chance of pulling this off. But out here in the open water, with the moon moving among the clouds, they could easily be spotted.
Finally Louis saw a break in the black mangroves. He made a correction with his oar to move them in and Landeta picked up the hint, matching his movement.
“Mel, duck,” Louis whispered as they entered the tiny inlet.
Landeta hunched just in time before a mangrove branch raked across his back. He stayed down as Louis paddled into the dark tunnel. About twenty feet in, the boat bumped on ground.
“Stay here,” Louis whispered. He could see just enough to avoid tripping over the high-arching roots as he stepped out of the boat. Mud sucked at his boots. He looked around in the spare moonlight. Up a slight incline, he could see dry land where the mangroves stopped.
There was a cloud of mosquitoes in his ears, around his nostrils and mouth.
He went back to Landeta and leaned close. “You’ve got about six feet of mangrove roots then it’s dry land,” Louis said.
Louis helped Landeta climb from the boat, following as Landeta felt his way across the twisted roots. Landeta slipped once, his boot sinking into the black mud. He whispered something and kept going.
“You got the backpack, right?” Louis asked.
“Yeah.”
Louis led him up the incline. When Landeta’s feet hit the flat ground, he stopped drawing in a breath. He pulled a black ball cap from his back pocket, and slipped it on his head. Then he pointed to the moon as if to tell Louis he was covering the shine of his bald head.
They stood there, perfectly still. At first, Louis heard only the silence. Then the small noises crept up out of the darkness. The whine of the mosquitoes, the murmur of the water, the hiss of the wind in the trees.
He could feel his heart quickening as the sounds grew. The scurry of something at his feet, the rasp of something ahead of him. A bird? A branch against another? His heart seemed to be pulling his chest muscles inward.
He felt something on his back and jumped. It was just Landeta’s hand.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Look again.”
Louis pulled in a deep breath. “There’s a path. I think it rims the water.” Louis was looking down the path, looking into the tunnel. The moon slipped behind a cloud, and the darkness engulfed them.
His skin hurt, as if he were being burned. It was the same thing he had felt that night in the tent. As if every nerve in his body were on fire.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. The darkness was pressing close, too close, like he was back in that closet in that house in Detroit.
Landeta’s hand was still on his back. “Louis?”
He couldn’t breathe.
“Louis, I can feel you shaking.”