I gaped at her. “You didn’t take your cell? Why? That’s dangerous.”
She threw her hand in the air. “I dunno. Sometimes I like to be unplugged. I hate being tethered all the time to a phone.”
Maybe it was years of living in the city, but that didn’t sit well with me. I needed to have a talk with her about safety. “Go on,” I prodded.
“I had a great walk, felt much more balanced and sane after a half hour in nature, and came back to find my car had been broken into. The driver’s window was smashed to pieces.”
“Oh no.” I let out a groan. “So your phone was stolen?”
“Everything. The phone, my purse, my IDs, and my credit cards.”
“Gosh. I’m sorry. So that’s why I wasn’t able to reach you.”
She nodded. “And get this. They also took my go bag. My duffel. With all the gator stuff. And my gun, and the extra ammo.”
My eyes widened in horror. “Vera, what the hell? You left your gun in the car?”
“I know, I’m not supposed to. It was in the trunk and I thought it was hidden well. This is a small town, Maggie. Sometimes I keep it in there so I don’t have to haul it into the store and out again, and then back here at home.”
I rubbed my temple. “Dad taught us to never leave a gun unattended.”
“I know,” she whined.
Her revelation about the gun was shocking and irresponsible. Vera was disorganized but usually not careless. That, combined with her evasiveness at lunch, made me worry even more. What was going on with her?
“This could get complicated real quick if the gun is used in the commission of a crime,” Jack piped up. He pressed his hand to Catsy’s back. His palm almost covered her entire body. “I’m merely giving you my opinion as a criminology professor.”
Until now, he’d been silent, so quiet that I almost forgot he was there. I looked up to see him stroking my kitten’s back. Tonight he was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with what looked like a band name on the front.
I looked to Jack, then to Vera, a sense of growing resentment welling in my chest. What was he doing here, anyway? Had she invited him over in a ham-handed attempt at matchmaking? I wanted to talk to my sister alone. Especially now.
But maybe he could be of use to us, given that he knew the law.
“Did you report this to the cops?” I demanded.
She nodded. “When I got home, I called and gave a report over the phone. The dispatcher’s an acquaintance and she said the officers were out at some crime scene but wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I’m expecting a call any minute now to follow up, but you know the local police. There are only like three of them and it might take a few days to return a call if it doesn’t involve drugs, drinking, or something violent.”
“But they definitely took a report? This is serious.”
“They did. I feel awful. Hopefully they’ll find it.” She took a long gulp of her wine. “How about you? Tell me about your night.”
I laughed nervously and set the wine on the coffee table, then pulled the scrunchie out of my hair, shaking it loose. “You’re not going to believe this, but I went to an alligator call at the industrial park and found Gator Gene lying dead in the water. Dead as a doornail. Tits up. Probably murdered. So yeah. It was quite a night.”
Bile rose in my throat at the memory of Gene’s body and I swallowed, trying to push the image deep inside.
Vera gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. Jack righted the recliner so abruptly that Catsy jumped down with a disgruntled meow and ran out of the room.
“What?” Vera cried.
“Who’s Gator Gene?” Jack asked.
While Vera sat with her mouth open, I shifted to look into Jack’s brown eyes. For some reason, hisGQcover looks annoyed me tonight. I didn’t need a thirst trap distracting my sister, not with everything going on.
“Gene Robinson is the other gator trapper in Wahoo. He is, or was, an unpleasant dick. Just today he threatened Vera and me while we were eating lunch.”
Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “Wild.”
“Gene’s hated our family for years. He has, or had, the intellectual capacity of a Roomba without a charging station.”