Family Feud in Savannah: A Garlucci Family Saga (Made in Savannah Mystery Series Book 16) Hope Callaghan (best way to read books .txt) 📖

They coasted to the stop sign. The driver’s side door of the pickup in front of them swung open. A man emerged and approached Tony on the driver's side.

Carlita pressed the door lock button, watching as the man rapped on the window.

Tony opened it a crack. “Hey.”

“Yes, sir.” The man leaned in, so close that his breath fogged the glass. “I saw you driving over on the other street. You looked like you was lost. I figured I would stop to see if I could help.”

“I appreciate your offer.” Tony began slowly unzipping his jacket pocket, and Carlita caught a glimpse of metal. It was the grip of a gun. “I know where I’m heading.”

“Bayrock is a small town. I know everyone who lives here. Mind if I ask who you’re here to see?”

“As a matter of fact, I do mind.” Tony finished unzipping his pocket, and Carlita could see him wrap his hand around the gun. “I can assure you I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Good. Cuz we don’t like trouble ‘round these parts. Troublemakers end up floating downstream, if you catch my drift.”

Tony’s eyes never left the man. “Like I said, we’re not here to cause trouble.”

“Keep it that way.” The “Good Samaritan’s” eyes shifted, and he nodded toward Carlita. “You two have a good day.”

Tony didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled the window up.

With a glance over his shoulder, the man climbed inside his pickup truck and turned right. Thankfully, they were going in the opposite direction. Instead of the homes getting nicer, they were in even worse shape.

“How much farther, Ma?”

“Half a mile. It’s on this road and on the right. We’re looking for 558 Old Pond Road.”

The paved road ended. The car jostled along, and Tony steered to the side to avoid the deep ruts.

Towering pines replaced the majestic oaks. Low-growing fan palms and cordgrass filled in the gaps.

The structures – a mixture of dilapidated mobile homes and shacks – were few and far between. Carlita pressed a hand to her chest. “This doesn’t look like a safe area.”

“Nope,” Tony said. “I would describe this as a shantytown.”

He slammed on the brakes when a dog darted out of the brush and into the car’s path. The pup never even looked their way before disappearing into the woodsy area on the opposite side of the road.

Carlita spoke without thinking, stunned by what she was seeing. “What in the world was Shelby thinking?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re here.” Tony stopped in front of a baby blue rusted mailbox. The mailbox’s post tilted to the right.

Carlita leaned forward, peering down the two-track driveway, almost obscured by the thick brush closing in on it. “Are we sure this is the spot?” She consulted the cell phone and then checked the mailbox. “This has to be it. Do you see anything?”

“Nope. Nothing.” Tony eased his foot off the brake, and they coasted past. When they reached the end of the road, he did a U-turn and began heading back.

A few feet from the blue mailbox, and on the opposite side of the road, was a wooden sign with an arrow pointing. Carlita read the sign, “Low Country State Recreation Area. Seasonal Access only.”

It was paved and wide enough for Tony’s car to navigate. “Let’s check it out.”

The entrance was narrow and winding, taking them past swampy marshes and low-lying areas.

Carlita craned her neck. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that this place floods during the wet season.”

A public boat launch, a pavilion, and a portable toilet were at the end. Several metal picnic tables were inside the pavilion.

“This might be a good spot to try Elvira’s drone.” Carlita waited for Tony to park and then exited the vehicle, her eyes scanning their surroundings.

It was an isolated spot, a place Carlita wouldn’t want to be after dark.

Although there were trash cans on both sides of the pavilion, beer bottles, cigarette butts and fast-food wrappers littered the ground.

Disgusted, she shook her head. “What a shame.”

Tony scanned the instructions and then set the drone on the ground. With a twist of the wrist, the drone lifted off and hovered overhead. “This baby is powerful.”

“I wonder what Elvira uses it for.” Carlita waved dismissively. “Never mind. I probably don’t want to know.”

Tony chuckled. “She’s probably spying on you.”

“Nothing new there.” Carlita shaded her eyes, watching as the drone dipped and swooped. “How does that thing work?”

“Here. You try it.” Tony held out the controller.

Carlita shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ll pass. With my luck, it would end up stuck in the trees, and Elvira would charge me double to replace it.”

Tony stepped closer to his mother, showing her how the drone operated. Not only was he able to navigate it via the camera, but it was able to record the entire fly time. “If I ever buy a drone, this is the one I want.”

He flew the drone higher and higher.

Standing behind him, Carlita had a clear view of the remote control screen. On one side was a large body of winding water. On the other was thick brush and more of the towering pines.

The drone passed overhead and then disappeared from sight.

The same dog that had run out in front of the car now trotted along the side of the road.

“I can’t make heads or tails of where it is,” Carlita muttered.

“Me either. Help me look for the blue mailbox.”

She leaned in, carefully studying the screen as the drone ran parallel to the dirt road. “I think it went too far.” Carlita could see the end of the road where they had turned around.

Tony expertly moved the dials. The drone began flying in the opposite direction. The blue mailbox suddenly appeared.

“There it is,”