Insurance Adjuster Disappears: Search Focus Near Swamp

It’s black as pitch an' nighttime in the backwater got a chorus o’ animal and insect noise all its own but it don’t mean you feel any bettah 'bout bein’ out in it by your lonesome.

This was one o’ them very nights when a car parked on the ’shine road with the light on inside and some city boy all spreadin’ out the map on the dash with that interior light o’ that dinky foreign car seeable for miles like a lighthouse.

He in a white shirt and loosed-up tie lookin‘ like the man so I lay low, stoppin’ traps-checkin’ till he go.


Just when I’m thinking he best be gettin' gone, he no sooner smack a ‘skito off his neck then a shotgun ring out and put the boy’s brains all up in the shatter glass as the buckshot scatter it.

I’m crouchin’ low, now, as the they drag his mess off to the gator hole an‘ roll that dinky car with they tractor till it smashed flat enough to drag off, prolly to wheres they sink the other one, but I got muskrat to clear and can‘t sneak a watch to this one.

Sure I’m scared all I can handle but sure not as much as the next revenuer they be sendin' out at night, sniffin’ 'round here for still smoke.