Rescue

different piece of sectional furniture.
    She said, “Look, I’m really sorry.“
    “I know.“
    “No, really. You helped me out, and then I let you down. But I just couldn’t—“
    “Dawna, I’ve had some time to think about it, and it’s okay. Sergeant Tidyman told me you called him and got me off the hook. I don’t want to butt into your life any more than I have already, but you might want to contact somebody official about Jay.“
    A vigorous nod. “Whit—that’s the sergeant’s first name, Whit?—told me the same thing, and he said he was going to have a talk himself with Jay. If that doesn’t work, though, I’m going to have to put my ex-fiancé out of my misery.“
    I grinned, and she laughed, and things eased up from there. “So, John, you never got to finish breakfast this morning. I have some tunafish... ?“
    “I’ve eaten, thanks. I need something else.“
    “What?“
    “An introduction to your friend.“
    “My friend?“
    “Mack, the bartender.“
    “Mack? Why?“
    “I’m thinking he can tell me more about the Church, and especially the Compound on Little Mercy.“
    “Oh, I don’t know.“ Adair gnawed on a fingernail. “I don’t think he’d want to talk about that.“
    “Why not?“
    “It’d bring back a time in his life that wasn’t so easy, you know?“
    “The divorce.“
    “And everything that went along with it.“
    “Dawna, I really need help if I’m going to find the boy I’m l ooking for, and I can’t just crash through the gate.“
    More gnawing.
    Quietly, I said, “And after this morning at Pedro’s, I can’t very Well turn to the Sheriff’s Office.“
    Adair worried a different nail, then gave me another nod, les vigorous this time. “Last I heard, he was working a bar Key West called the Far Horizon. But if he’s not there anymore, just ask around to the other bartenders. We keep track of each other pretty well in a kind of informal way, so if he’s still on the Key, somebody’ll know.“
    “A last name would help.“
    “Olsen. With an ‘E,’ not a second ‘O.’“ The spelling bee champ managed a wink. “Tell him you know me, and I owe you a favor.“
    “Will that make him cooperate?“
    “It should. He owes me enough of them.“
    “Dawna, thanks.“
    “Hey,“ she said, resting her hands on her thighs. “That’s what friends are for, right?“

    Crossing the bridge to Plantation Key, I started the long drive south, the Saturday afternoon traffic allowing the Sun-bird to do an erratic forty on the road. The little green-and-white mile markers told me how much farther it was to Key West, which my rent-a-car map said actually would be mile marker (or “MM“) #0. After Plantation Key, I got onto Windley Key, then Upper Matecumbe, which featured to my left the THEATER OF THE SEA and a horrible conglomeration of semi-high-rise places called HOLIDAY ISLE. A few miles later, I saw on my right the bar Woody’s that Dawna had mentioned to the middle-aged couple, although the marquee more discreetly identified the group playing there as “Big Richard and the Extenders.“ After that, I hit MM #80 and went over a bridge to Lower Matecumbe Key.
    The pattern of bridge after bridge, Key after Key, repeated itself. Long Key to Grassy Key to Crawl Key at MM Then onto Vaca Key, passing through a place called Marathon, which I remembered from sports fishing articles and which made Holiday Isle look tasteful by comparison. A causeway at Pigeon Key took me onto the Seven Mile Bridge a truly spectacular sequence With turquoise water blinding in the afternoon sunshine. An older structure ran parallel with the Seven Mile to the north, supported by what looked like compressed, concrete milk jugs. People were bicycling and jogging along the older one, which I assumed was the railroad bridge. In the early part of the century, they built them to last.
    I hit MM #40 near the end of the Seven Mile and went onto and through Bahia Honda Key and its state park. Between there and MM #20 I drove over more islands than I can name, but signs on Big Pine warned me to be cautious of the ‘Key Deer,’ a group of four even showing themselves, almost skipping alongside the road, causing a traffic jam as tourists piled out of their cars to snap a shot with little Donnie or Ruthie in it to provide perspective on the two-to-three-foot-tall creatures. After the jam, I passed through Sugarloaf, Saddlebunch, and Boca Chica Keys, finally crossing the Boca Chica Channel