CHAPTER ONE
Mist, looking for all the world like a swirling curtain, rose from the Arkansas Delta bayou. Cassandra Stafford peered out from under her ball cap trying to see farther than a few feet of the black water. It was useless. She might as well have been staring at a wall.
"Looks like it came straight from the conjure woman's pot," a voice declared from somewhere to her right.
Cassandra jumped what she thought must've been a good foot off the ground and caught herself moments before plunging into the hidden water.
"Thanks a lot! Who's there?" She looked toward the voice, positive smoke poured out of her ears.
A figure stood a few feet away, barely discernable through the October fog. A chill tingled its way up her spine and wrapped its way around her like a boa constrictor; squeezing a little more with each breath she let out. Who was this man? It was close to midnight. The interstate was less than a mile from here. He could be any psycho out for a stroll.
"Cliff DePriest, Game and Fish Officer." The voice said as it moved closer. "And who might you be, out on a night like this?"
Well I might be Minnie Mouse. "Cassandra Stafford, author."
"Of what?"
He was close enough for her to see by the moonlight now. His deep olive jacket sported the Game and Fish Commission's insignia. Something about him made her take him at his word. She realized that something must be his arrogant carriage. Put an ape in a uniform, and you got an over-inflated ego stuffed in official looking clothing.
"I asked you a question."
"Does it really matter? I'm here to research my next book," she shot back with just enough indignation in her voice to show she wasn't going to answer him.
"As long as hunting alligators or dynamiting for fish isn't a part of the research, no." The ego-stuffed shirt seemed to deflate just a tad.
"I'm happy to report neither alligators nor dynamite figure into my plans." Cassandra tilted her head up high as if she'd just won a volley.
"Then I'd suggest you find your way back to your car. The refuge is closed or didn't you notice the sign when you turned in?" It was his turn to gloat in victory.
"How do you close a wildlife refuge?"
"Easy. All state parks and federally protected lands close to human visitors at nine PM. The alligators can come and go as they please." Two points.
Closed? How was she going to document the bayou ghost lights if she wasn't allowed to visit the bayou?
"Look, mister..." The sentence hung unfinished in the air between them.
"DePriest," he supplied with the quizzical look of a skeptic already pasted on his face.
"Mr. DePriest, I'm investigating the ghost lights reputed to appear in Bayou LaGrande and Beleiw's View. I just need to be here when they pop up."
The skeptical look gave way to a grin that led to a chuckle which dissolved into a coughing fit. Game and Fish Officer DePriest covered his mouth with one large hand. Oh, wow. It was a good thing he wasn't just any psycho. His hands were huge. Not only that, but the rest of him was too. How could the sheer bulk of this man have escaped her?
"Are you finished with your fit?" She flavored her words with sarcastic saccharine to hide her sudden nervous reaction.
"Yeah, I think so." The chuckle almost came back. She could hear it right behind his words.
"What do I need to do to run my investigation legally?" She licked her lips. They felt rough from the repetition of this lifelong habit.
"You have to apply for an observation permit. Now, let's get you back to your car." All traces of humor had left him. Cassandra wondered if perhaps he was simply dressed as an official. He could snap her neck from behind. It was easy to make a person just disappear in the swamps. A car could vanish out here for that matter.
"You lead the way, sir."
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