Page 79 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Bullfrogs croaked from somewhere in the mossy black water.

Dana swallowed thickly as she watched slow ripples part the still water in the distance.

She didn’t know whether she preferred the unblinking stares of the alligators sunbathing on felled logs or when they silently slipped beneath the inky black veil of water.

Either way she couldn’t stop her mind from visualizing a horrific death by the prehistoric creatures.

“Relax,” George teased. “They only bite.”

“Not funny,” Dana quipped.

“You don’t gotta worry about gators. They’re opportunistic feeders. Too lazy to go after people. It’s the spiders and snakes that’ll get ya out here.”

“Not helping,” said Dana.

She was already glancing over her shoulder for predators. She didn’t need to jump out of her skin every time something brushed against her, which was often considering the number of mosquitoes and other flying insects she was constantly swatting.

Continuing along the silent waterway, they passed half-submerged shipping containers, cannibalized tug decks and the ghostly remains of old shrimpers.

The whole landscape seemed like a forgotten time capsule of discarded industry.

The eerie part was that she knew they weren’t alone.

Each of the timeworn vessels they passed showed signs of life if you knew where to look.

Fishing lines in the water, the hum of a radio, laundry fluttering on lines. People lived out here. Off the land. Off the grid. Possibly off their rockers …

Dana fought the urge to pass judgement. She would never choose to call a place like this home, but to each their own.

She kept her eyes open, absorbing every bend of the seemingly endless water. Each time she thought the land was closing in on the narrow reed-lined channels, they would open up again, showing the vast power of the bayou.

Eventually, George directed them down a remote canal lined with dense cypress.

Between the moss and the overgrown canopy, the majority of the scorching Louisiana sun was blotted out.

George’s leather-gloved hands pulled them further into the darkness.

Their silent vessel cut slowly through the shallow layer of fog that hovered atop the still water.

Dana told herself the chill creeping up her spine was only the sudden absence of sunlight. The humidity still clung heavily in the air, making her shiver under the damp sheen of sweat her clothing absorbed.

She wished she’d dressed for the occasion. Her t-shirt and khaki shorts didn’t offer much protection from the assault of bloodsucking insects who seemed immune to the bug repellent she’d donned before boarding this ferry of nightmares.

Dana couldn’t begin to imagine how the lone Harvest Girl had found her way out of such a treacherous maze.

“Here we are,” George announced as a rudimentary cabin came into view. It rested on rickety stilts a few feet above the water, with a small, yet tidy front porch. Compared to the other dwellings they’d passed, it might as well have been a high-rise condo.

“Looks like we’re in luck,” George said, letting the ferry coast the rest of the way to the cabin. “Abigale’s home.”

“How can you tell?” Dana asked .

George pointed to the canoe tethered beneath the house, just as the willowy silhouette of a woman appeared on the porch.