The Butterfly Forest (Mystery/Thriller) by Tom Lowe Read Free Book Online Page B

cable box since I came in from a week of fishing.”
    Kim frowned.  “Nicky, Sean O’Brien, your best bud, stopped some creep from messing with a mom and her daughter in a Walmart parking lot.”  She looked up at me. “Can I get Max a fried shrimp?”
    I smiled.  “Better take a rain check.  She’s watching her cholesterol.  Have you seen Dave?”
    “He was in here a few hours ago.  Had breakfast.”
    “Thanks, Kim.”
    “Anytime, hero.”  Her smile was infectious.  She wiped her hands on a cotton towel and returned to her thirsty customers. 
    As Nick, Max and I walked down L dock, Nick said, “You saved the ladies’ life, huh.  What happened?”
    I told him and added, “A punk pulled a pistol on them as they were getting in their car.  I managed to see it going down, called the cops and did a little interference while they were en route.”
    “I used to ask myself, Nicky, why this stuff happen to your pal, Sean.  You know what I come to believe, huh?”
    “No, what?”
    “I believe shit happens and it happens to you ‘cause you see it comin’ down the pike before it happens.  Then you try to trip it up.  Make sense?”
    I tried not to grin.  “So, that’s how you sum up my life?”
    “Yep.  Sean O’Brien, a good guy, sometimes in a bad place.  Shitty places, man.”
    “I’ll think about that while we stow away the groceries and ice.”
    Nick pulled a cold Corona from the case.  He said, “Let’s toast to you savin’ the women.”
    I set the ice in Jupiter’s cockpit.  Max scampered around the boat, her nose working in all the corners.  I opened the doors, hatches and began loading in the groceries.  Nick popped the top off a Corona, sat in the leather sofa, removed his flip-flops, and placed his feet on the cypress table layered in thick lacquer.  It was sturdy.  Nick proof, and it came with the boat.  He set his beer bottle down on the table and called Max up onto his lap.  He belched and said, “We had a good run last week.  I sold two hundred pounds of black grouper.  Got some left over.  We’ll cook it up, Greek-style, tonight.”
     My cell phone rang.  I looked down at the ID.  Elizabeth Monroe.  I answered, watching the condensation from Nick’s beer bottle roll onto the table.  “Sean, you said to call if I needed to.”
    “Are you okay?”
    “It’s Molly.  I can’t reach her anywhere.”
      

 
     
    THIRTEEN
     
     I sat on one of the three barstools next to my mini-bar.  Nick started to say something, and I held my hand up so I could hear Elizabeth.  “What do you mean you can’t reach her?”
                “She’s not answering her cell phone.  She’s so stubborn.  Her boyfriend called earlier, and they’d decided to head back to Gainesville together.  I thought I could talk her into staying a while longer.  But Mark is working, too.  He had to get back and suggested it would be best if they traveled together in their separate cars so he could keep an eye out for Molly as she drove.  He wanted to make sure she wasn’t being followed.  She agreed.  So she packed up, took her father’s pistol and left.”
                “Did you tell the police?”
                “I called them right before I called you.  They said for her to keep together with friends and to be aware of who and what’s around her.  In the meantime, they’d continue searching for Frank Soto.”
    Her voice sounded fatigued, filled with worry.  I asked, “Does she live alone?”
    “She lives with a roommate, a girl she’s lived with for most of this year.”
    “Is the girl back at school?”
    “I don’t know… Molly left so quickly I didn’t ask her.  I called her apartment and there was no answer.  And, Mark hasn’t answered his cell phone either.”
    “Keep calling them.  Make sure her roommate is there.  If not, maybe Molly should stay with her boyfriend.”
    Elizabeth was silent.  I could hear her