Paradise Burning Read Online Free PDF Page A

johnboats down at the dock. You can
always fit in some rowing, maybe a bit of fishing, any time you
like.”
    “ That sounds great,” Mandy murmured.
“I’ll remember that.” Like she was going to take some itty bitty
dinghy onto a river that was probably stuffed with alligators,
water moccasins, and God alone knew what else. Jeffrey Armitage and
Eleanor Kingsley had not produced an idiot.
    Mandy thanked Ed for his help, then
stood stock still, her gaze following him, almost in amazement, as
he headed back toward his office. What was she doing here? She,
Mandy Armitage, the girl who was so certain AKA couldn’t function
without her, was standing in the middle of a campground in Florida , twelve hundred miles from
home. Instead of the cocoon of a cottage on AKA’s vast acres, she
had a tin can on wheels. No vital mission to plan. No friends or
colleagues. No Eleanor or Jeff.
    She hadn’t wanted to be here. Or that’s what
she’d told herself. She’d even blamed her wishy-washy reaction to
Eleanor’s orders on grief over Kira. Truth was, now that she had
left AKA behind, the heavy gray nothingness that enveloped her
after Kira’s death was beginning to show faint streaks of
light.
    She’d done it. She was out . Though Florida, admittedly, was
a challenge.
    Peter even more so.
    Mandy took a deep breath and looked around.
Neatly arrayed around her was a mixed bag of recreational vehicles,
from chunky toppers designed for pick-up trucks to classic silver
Airstream trailers, to giant fifth wheels. Yet all were nicely
spaced out under a canopy of tall pines, sturdy live oaks, and
waving palms. Lots of green grass, studded with picnic tables. Not
an inch of asphalt in sight.
    About half the residents were snowbirds, Ed
Cramer had explained. Northerners who migrated south for the
winter. Which, Mandy guessed, included herself. Did she escape the
name because she was here to work? Or was she a snowbird, because,
come spring, she’d fly away home?
    Or maybe not?
    That thought was alarming enough to get
her feet moving. Curiosity and a determination to think of anything
but Peter propelled her toward the river that formed the eastern
boundary of Calusa Campground. Although not a natural people
person, Mandy made a genuine effort to return the smiles, nods, and
greetings from her predominantly senior neighbors as she passed by.
Not so hard, after all. But the warm glow that had begun to blossom
inside winked out when she saw the river. The Calusa couldn’t have
been farther from a sparkling clear New England stream if some mad
scientist had set out to design it that way. No rushing current,
gurgling over granite boulders, the Calusa was the color of
mahogany, the current so sluggish the water appeared to be standing
still. The dark depths were like a black hole, Mandy thought, ready
to pull unwary strangers to their doom. Capable, in fact, of
concealing anything beneath an
impenetrable surface that screamed of hidden secrets.
    Feeling almost dizzy, Mandy forced her gaze
away from the river’s unreflecting surface. She was standing on a
small wooden dock. Tied to it were the three small boats Ed Cramer
had mentioned. Fishing? No way, no how. She was quite certain the
boats were smaller than the alligators that lurked in these
waters.
    And yet . . . it was so quiet. As if the
world of the Calusa went on hold with the coming of dusk. Or was it
always like this? A place where the modern world dropped away and
only the primeval remained?
    Frowning at her lapse into the fanciful,
Mandy examined the area near the dock. Graceful arches of willow
and live oak dipped their branches into the quiescent black shadows
along the river’s edge. Except for the clearing created by the
campground, a solid mass of greenery overhung both banks, including
massive amounts of vines that looked like wild grape.
    The ambiance was beginning to grow on her. As
dark and mysterious as the river was, it was strangely soothing.
Peaceful. Balm for a