Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 39

Zandra keeps the debit card on the promise she'll hand it over once they arrive to wherever it is that "everyone wins." That buys her time to wait at the courthouse until Darryl can complete his shift without suspicion. She sharpens the lawnmower knife on a stray brick she finds outside. She tames the burrs on the edge with a few strops on a length of cardboard. Then she's off to find a cushion or two.

Might as well take a nap and indulge in the best snacks the Portage County taxpayers can provide while I'm at it.

Darryl tells the other attorneys he'll be working late, something that happens all the time as the junior in the office. A couple give a knowing look when Darryl tells them he'll, "see you later."

Zandra and Darryl leave only after the sun sets and the light of the day is finished. Other than the cover of night, that's when the deputies change shifts. They go unnoticed to Darryl's two-door commuter. The car only offers enough room to stretch one arm at a time, and the engine whines like a toddler.

"So where is this place in the woods?" Zandra says after they leave downtown in the car.

"The Mead, just west of Ashley and Dancy. There's a path off one of the public entries. We follow it until we know we're there," Darryl says.

The Mead refers to the George W. Mead State Wildlife Area, comprised of 33,000 acres of forests, swamps and grassland. It's popular with hikers, since it contains nearly 100 miles of trails. It's also popular with those preferring to stay out of sight of the rest of society.

I might catch a contact high from the illegal marijuana grows out there.

"There is no 'we' about this," Zandra says. "You go win with everyone else, but drop me off on the other end of this path. I'm not going to borrow trouble with you. There a map?"

Darryl points to the small glove compartment by Zandra's knees. She opens it and pulls out a folded, laminated map of the Mead.

"I'm surprised anyone knows what a map is anymore. Everything's digital now," Zandra says. She flicks on the overhead light by the rearview mirror.

"The map came with the invite. Check out the circle," Darryl says.

Zandra unfolds the map. A red circle marks the intersection of two trails deep inside the Mead. It's as far in the woods as a person could go.

It's going to take me a while to get there. Good thing we left early enough.

It's clear the shortest route to the circle is where everyone in attendance will park and walk in. It's also paved most of the way. Three longer, dirt trails exist, too. Zandra hovers her finger over each one.

I'll bet a psychic could tell me which one I should pick. Maybe I'll let Herman.

Zandra pulls out Herman's 3x5 recipe card for blueberry muffins.

Blueberry starts with B. B is the second letter in the alphabet. I'll go with the second trail then.

"Drop me off here," Zandra says and points at the map.

Darryl glances at the map. "I can do that. Did your psychic intuition tell you to pick that one?"

"Yes. Very technical," Zandra says.

Zandra staggers out of the car after they arrive at her chosen spot on the map. She checks her pockets and the lawnmower knife up her sleeve. For a moment, she debates whether to conveniently forget to give Darryl the pre-paid debit card. She tumbles the rectangle inside her pocket, thinking over how final and lonely the night seems. The breeze against her skin feels like a last sigh.