upset.”
Try as she might, Sachi couldn’t press her lips into a tight enough line to hide the way they curled at the outside edges.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Mandaline said, her grin even coloring her voice with good cheer.
“Ugh.” Sachi threw her hands up and headed for the counter. “I can’t win.”
“No, you can’t,” Mandaline called out from behind her. “So you might as well give in.”
Sachi spun on her heel and returned to the office. “Oh, I’m going to be in late tomorrow. I’m taking Dad to the airport.”
“He finally picked one of the jobs?”
“Yep.” She laced her hands together in front of her. “Look, if Brad and Ellis are too busy, I’m sure I can pay a moving company—”
“Don’t even,” Mandaline said as she pointed a finger at Sachi. “The guys were asking me this morning if we had a date yet. Looks like I can tell them now.” She smiled. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still irritated at you for shoving me into the bear pit. Two guys with great auras. I don’t even need one guy, much less two of them.”
Mandaline leaned back in her chair, that playful smile still on her face. “Either something will come of it, or it won’t. I’m not asking you to go throwing yourself at them. I’m simply asking you to stay open to the Universe.”
“I’m trying. It’s easy for you to say that.”
Mandaline’s smile finally faded. “Not so much, no. You were the one on my ass not too long ago, remember?”
Sachi crossed her arms in front of her. “Yeah, well, again, the whole do as I say shit, witchypoo.”
* * * *
Sachi jumped on the shop’s computer and pulled up Google Earth to get a better look at Tammy Evans’ property. No, they wouldn’t be hiking around it tomorrow night, but she wanted an idea of what they were dealing with.
The problem came when she tried to distinguish the property from the state forest it bordered. On the satellite view, the front three acres were clearly visible, but a sea of tree coverage blended the rest of the property in with the main forest and more heavily wooded properties on either side. Other than the faintest hint of a trail that might be a fire road if the overhead coverage wasn’t so thick, there wasn’t anything.
After a quick thought, she pulled up a page on the official Florida Fish and Wildlife website that listed hunting season dates for the Withlacoochee State Forest and found the ones for the Croom Tract.
Nope, there should be no legal hunters in the area. It would make sense during hunting season if people accidentally—or purposefully—wandered onto private property if it wasn’t adequately fenced and marked. Tammy had told them the pasture fencing had only been barbed wire, meaning it was probably down in many places now.
But maybe if they were jacklighting?
She might have been born a city girl in New Jersey, but having gone to school in Montana and Idaho, she heard enough hunting talk from kids in her classes, and from hanging around at the shooting clubs, to know what it was, and that it was usually highly illegal. Another quick search on the same state website confirmed that nighttime hunting wasn’t allowed, except for brief periods before sunrise, in some cases.
Hmm.
But Tammy insisted she wasn’t seeing flashlights or spotlights.
It would take a special kind of stupid to hunt with a glow stick.
And Tammy had said she hadn’t heard any gunshots.
But bow hunting was allowed in some areas of the forest during certain seasons and for certain game.
Sachi looked up a couple of phone numbers and made some calls. Ten minutes later, she was still stumped. Rangers didn’t have any cases of poaching arrests, or reported poaching activity, in that area for the past couple of months.
Of course not. That would have been way too easy.
The Croom Motorcycle Area was the more heavily used park area and lay just to the east. It was the tract where Sami Corey
Try as she might, Sachi couldn’t press her lips into a tight enough line to hide the way they curled at the outside edges.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Mandaline said, her grin even coloring her voice with good cheer.
“Ugh.” Sachi threw her hands up and headed for the counter. “I can’t win.”
“No, you can’t,” Mandaline called out from behind her. “So you might as well give in.”
Sachi spun on her heel and returned to the office. “Oh, I’m going to be in late tomorrow. I’m taking Dad to the airport.”
“He finally picked one of the jobs?”
“Yep.” She laced her hands together in front of her. “Look, if Brad and Ellis are too busy, I’m sure I can pay a moving company—”
“Don’t even,” Mandaline said as she pointed a finger at Sachi. “The guys were asking me this morning if we had a date yet. Looks like I can tell them now.” She smiled. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still irritated at you for shoving me into the bear pit. Two guys with great auras. I don’t even need one guy, much less two of them.”
Mandaline leaned back in her chair, that playful smile still on her face. “Either something will come of it, or it won’t. I’m not asking you to go throwing yourself at them. I’m simply asking you to stay open to the Universe.”
“I’m trying. It’s easy for you to say that.”
Mandaline’s smile finally faded. “Not so much, no. You were the one on my ass not too long ago, remember?”
Sachi crossed her arms in front of her. “Yeah, well, again, the whole do as I say shit, witchypoo.”
* * * *
Sachi jumped on the shop’s computer and pulled up Google Earth to get a better look at Tammy Evans’ property. No, they wouldn’t be hiking around it tomorrow night, but she wanted an idea of what they were dealing with.
The problem came when she tried to distinguish the property from the state forest it bordered. On the satellite view, the front three acres were clearly visible, but a sea of tree coverage blended the rest of the property in with the main forest and more heavily wooded properties on either side. Other than the faintest hint of a trail that might be a fire road if the overhead coverage wasn’t so thick, there wasn’t anything.
After a quick thought, she pulled up a page on the official Florida Fish and Wildlife website that listed hunting season dates for the Withlacoochee State Forest and found the ones for the Croom Tract.
Nope, there should be no legal hunters in the area. It would make sense during hunting season if people accidentally—or purposefully—wandered onto private property if it wasn’t adequately fenced and marked. Tammy had told them the pasture fencing had only been barbed wire, meaning it was probably down in many places now.
But maybe if they were jacklighting?
She might have been born a city girl in New Jersey, but having gone to school in Montana and Idaho, she heard enough hunting talk from kids in her classes, and from hanging around at the shooting clubs, to know what it was, and that it was usually highly illegal. Another quick search on the same state website confirmed that nighttime hunting wasn’t allowed, except for brief periods before sunrise, in some cases.
Hmm.
But Tammy insisted she wasn’t seeing flashlights or spotlights.
It would take a special kind of stupid to hunt with a glow stick.
And Tammy had said she hadn’t heard any gunshots.
But bow hunting was allowed in some areas of the forest during certain seasons and for certain game.
Sachi looked up a couple of phone numbers and made some calls. Ten minutes later, she was still stumped. Rangers didn’t have any cases of poaching arrests, or reported poaching activity, in that area for the past couple of months.
Of course not. That would have been way too easy.
The Croom Motorcycle Area was the more heavily used park area and lay just to the east. It was the tract where Sami Corey
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