by Jana DeLeon
And they were headed straight for it at breakneck speed.
He spun around and stared at Dorie. Her long blond hair had pulled loose from the ponytail and whipped around her face. Her eyes were bright with excitement and her smile ran from one ear to the other.
His heart dropped. She had lost her mind. The strain of investigating her friends and family was too great and now she was going to kill them both.
"Dorie!" he shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"
She braced one foot on the steering column and another on her bench. "Just hold on!"
He looked ahead of them again, but realized it was way too late to stop. They were going to hit the bank. He braced himself in the bottom of the boat and prayed gators weren't sunbathing on that stretch of dirt. When they drew within several feet of the bank, he could see that it gradually sloped up from the water. Before he could process that bit of information, they hit the slope at full speed.
Dorie turned and yanked the motor up on the back of the boat as it cruised out of the water and up the slope of the bank. Several feet later, the boat changed its course downward with a bang that jolted him off the bottom of the hard metal by a foot or two. He could hear her laughing the whole time. The boat continued its frantic slide and suddenly ended with a giant splash. Water came up from both sides of the boat and completely doused them.
As soon as they hit the water, Dorie dropped the engine, pushed down the throttle, and they raced down a narrow cut of water again. Managing to rise to an upright position, he peeked over the edge of the boat and blew out a breath of relief when he saw only water in the near future. "Is it safe to come up?"
"Yeah. You handled that pretty well, Dick. Most people scream."
I wonder why. It only looks like death. He lifted himself up from the bottom of the boat and sat on the bench. His backside stung from the giant bounce, and he briefly regretted not using the life jacket as a cushion.
Of course, now he saw the necessity of wearing the vest. If she pulled that stunt without a bottom-of-the-boat warning, he had no doubt she would have left many a passenger back in the marsh. Probably on purpose.
The boat suddenly slowed, and he planted a foot on the bench in front of him. Looking across the bayou, he saw a camp sitting among a group of trees. This was the last one. Last chance. He was beginning to think the whole thing was a dead end. Maybe his source was wrong and Roland was long gone. Maybe his appearance in Gator Bait was just a coincidence, like Dorie wanted to believe. But even as he thought it, Richard still didn't buy it. His gut told him different.
They hopped out of the boat and made their way down the pier. As they stepped off the planks and onto the hard dirt path, Dorie stopped short and Richard narrowly missed colliding with her.
"What's up?" he asked, instantly sensing her tension.
She pointed off to the side of the path. "The grass is pressed down there."
Carefully studying the ground before her, Dorie stepped slowly over the small patches of marsh grass with Richard close behind until they reached the spot she'd pointed out. "Someone docked a boat here at high tide. That would have been around midnight last night."
"Why didn't they use the pier?" Richard asked.
"Because when the tide is in completely, the bayou runs past the end of the pier. Whoever came here did so at high tide and had to pull the boat up onto the bank in order to dock." She pushed the grass in front of them to the side and studied the ground.
"See," she said and crouched in front of a large indention in the hard mud. "That's a footprint."
Richard looked at the wide, deep hole and raised his eyebrows. "Who was docking here-Bigfoot?"
Dorie laughed. "Not hardly. This spot was a bit underwater when our visitor stepped out of his boat. That mud is thin as soup when it's in water. It just hardens to concrete when the water recedes."
She studied the print again and took a measurement with her hand. "I’d say he's thin and probably well under two hundred pounds"
"Are you sure it's a he?" Richard asked, impressed with her analysis.
Dorie stood up and shook her head. "I'm not sure about anything at this point. That print was made by a set of work boots, but you're right, every woman in Gator Bait owns at least one pair."
"So what do you think?"
Dorie scanned the land surrounding the camp then looked up at the fading sunlight. "I think we better check out the camp before the sun goes down."
"Good idea," Richard agreed and they hurried to the camp in resolute silence.
The sun had begun to glow a bright orange and the light was fading fast. Dorie reached for her keys, but paused as she stared at the rope tied around the front door handle.
"What's wrong?" Richard asked, noticing the strange expression on her face.
"Someone's been here. This isn't the right knot. Buster always ties the same knot when he leaves." She twisted the knob, but the door was locked. Quickly removing the rope from the door, she unlocked the camp and pushed the door open.
Richard stepped inside, right on her heels, but at first glance, nothing appeared to be out of order. One big room made up the kitchen, dining and living area. She crossed the room and opened the refrigerator.
"'There's bottled water and lunch meat in here," she said. "And I know this was empty last time Buster left. I was by here a couple of weeks ago when we had a power outage. I checked everyone's refrigerators then."
She motioned to a pantry directly behind him, and he pulled the door open. A loaf of bread and a package of crackers were on the first shelf. He took the bread out and inspected it. "It's fresh. Buster is the guy that owns the shrimp house, right?"
She nodded.
"Do you think maybe he loaned his camp out for the week?"
She considered this for a minute. "I don't think so. He always tells me when someone's coming in, and he hardly ever comes down here himself, except to do maintenance. He only keeps the place for his sons to use, and they both live out of state"
She walked past him and into the bedroom. Two bunk beds stood on opposite walls with a double bed in the center. One bunk had a blanket thrown across it. The other beds were bare. She checked the bathroom, but reported no evidence of a visitor.
"Whoever is staying here isn't on vacation," she said. "I can check with Buster when we get back, but I have my doubts he knows anyone's here."
"Why do you say that?"
She waved a hand toward the bathroom. "There's nothing in there. Even the trash cans are empty. How many people travel without any bathroom items at all? Everyone carries a toothbrush at least."
He was disappointed, but not surprised. "There's nothing at all? I was hoping we'd find the place where he patched up the finger. Or lack of a finger."
"Well, there's nothing here reminiscent of a first-aid job. And if there was any medical treatment performed in this bathroom, he was probably smart enough to dispose of the evidence in the bayou. Can you collect hair from the bed?"
"Yeah. If that's the best we can do, then that's what we'll do. I hope this doesn't turn out to be a wild goose chase."
Dorie walked into the kitchen and grabbed some plastic bags from the cabinet. "It's the closest thing we have to a lead, Dick," she said and handed him the bags. "Don't knock it yet."
By the time they got back into town, it was long past dark and way too late to make a Fed-Ex mailing. Joe was still at the sheriff's office, undoubtedly waiting on them, but Dorie noticed he remained quiet as Richard made a couple of phone calls and got a name for a laboratory in Lake Charles that could run the DNA for him. Once Richard had the address, he said a quick good-bye and dashed out of the office to make the trip to Lake Charles.
As soon as the door slammed behind him, Joe turned to her. "Well?" he asked.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat on the edge of his desk. She took a big swallow of the icy cold liquid and began to fill him in on the afternoon's events.
"Shit," he said when Dor
ie finished telling him about the evidence of a visitor at Buster's camp. "It had to be Buster's. His is the only camp on the bayou that's completely hidden from plain sight and unapproachable without being seen or heard light years in advance. There's no way we can watch it."
"I know. I've been thinking about that but I haven't figured a way around it yet. I'll let you know if I come up with something."
"What about Big City? He got any ideas?"
"I don't think so. At least, not yet, and I'd prefer it stay that way for a little while longer. We need to get a DNA match on the hair we picked up before we go storming in anywhere, and we damn sure can't ask Buster about this until we know for sure it's Dick's guy who's using his camp"
Joe took a deep breath and gave her a hard look. "You don't think Buster is involved in this, do you?"
She looked away, unable to meet his eyes."I don't know what to think anymore, Joe. I never would've believed this could happen in Gator Bait, but here we are with a bag full of drugs and money." She stared out the window across Main Street and sighed. "Maybe you never really know people."
"Maybe. Or maybe Dick's guy, or whoever is staying there, got wind of the camp and managed to find a spare key. You know there's probably a hundred of them around town. We've known Buster a lot of years. If he was into anything like this, don't you think we would've caught on?"
"I'd like to think so." She gave him a small, tired smile. "I guess we're about to find out if we know as much as we think."
He nodded, his expression grim. Are you calling it a night?"
She stared at the wall, so deep in thought that the sound of his voice barely registered.
"Dorie?" Joe asked and gently shook her.
Blinking, she tried to clear her mind. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"I asked if you were calling it a night?"
She slowly shook her head. "I think I'm going to take a trip to Lake Charles myself and have another talk with my dad."
"Do you want me to come?"
"No. The things I need to ask will be hard enough alone. I'll fill you in on everything in the morning."
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You know where to find me," he said as he left.
She picked up her keys, locked the door behind her and jumped in her jeep, not wanting to face her dad about the use of Buster's camp, but knowing if she didn't, Richard would.
Sherry was at her regular station at the reception desk when Dorie walked in. She gave Dorie a quick look and said, "Now don't give me that crap about nothing being wrong this time. I know that look on your face, Dorie Berenger. And then the two of you brought that stuffy man to visit your father. What is going on?"
Dorie tapped one foot and stared at the clock on the wall behind the perturbed receptionist. "I'm sorry, Sherry. I can't tell you. It's police business, and it's all very confidential." She looked back at the older woman and tried to put a neutral expression on her face.
Sherry narrowed her eyes. "Confidential police business in Gator Bait? Bullshit. Nothing's ever happened in that town. I've been living there for over fifty years. I ought to know."
"I know, but everything changes eventually, and I really need Dad's advice. I think he'll know better how to deal with the problem than me. Is he up to it?"
Sherry waved one hand in the air. "Oh, hell yes. Ain't nothing wrong with that man's mind-just his legs. Aside from the fact that it's obviously causing you some distress, he'll probably be tickled to get involved in police work again." Sherry looked thoughtful for a moment. "In fact, it might help him out of the mood he's been in. Kind of broody lately. I figure maybe he's bored."
"Thanks, Sherry. I'll see you later." Dorie walked down the hall to her dad's room. She hadn't talked to him since Richard had given her the information about Roland, and the subsequent phone call to her dad explaining that bit of news hadn't been the most pleasant they'd ever had. To say he was angry with what might be going on in Gator Bait would be an understatement.
She paused for a moment outside her dad's apartment, then walked through the open doorway, calling out his name.
"Dorie," he said from his spot in the living room. "It's good to see you. He smiled at her as she took a seat on the couch across from him. "Have you straightened out that DEA agent yet?"
"No, I'm afraid not. Dick is wound so tight, you couldn't pry him loose with a crowbar." She smiled. "I did take him on a boat ride today. Got a little more than he was looking for, I think."
He snorted. "Most people who ride in a boat with you do. What were you doing out in the boat any way? I thought Big City was looking for his drug dealer."
"He is. We did a check of all the camps on the bayou to make sure none of them were being used in an unauthorized way."
"So did you find anything?"
"Yeah, that's why I'm here. I know this is going to be difficult for you, Dad. I've been struggling with it ever since I found out what Dick was after, but I have to ask you about some of the people in Gator Bait. Starting with Buster."
He looked surprised for a moment, then frowned. "Why start with Buster? What did you find?"
"Someone was staying at his camp, but just barely. Only one loaf of bread, some lunch meat and some bottled water. One bunk with a blanket on it but no toiletries. The knot on the front door was tied wrong, but there was no forced entry. Whoever is, or was, staying there has a key."
He considered this for a moment. "You ask Buster yet?"
"No. And we don't want to. We don't want to tip our hand if it's Roland who's staying there. Dick took some hair samples from the bed and we should know the results soon enough." She rose from the couch and paced the short distance of the living room. "There's still the off chance that we could catch him, though I must admit, I haven't exactly figured out how to get to the camp without being a sitting duck for a gunshot."
He nodded and scratched the back of his head. "It'd be tough, that's for sure. There's no cover for you on the approach, yet he'd have plenty of trees to hide behind on his side."
She stopped pacing and stared down at her dad. "What do you make of Roland using Buster's camp? If it's him, that is."
He ran both hands up and down his lifeless legs for a moment, then shook his head. "If you're asking me if Buster Comeaux could be involved in drug dealing, I'd say no way. I've known Buster my entire life. There's nothing in his life that would cause him to need more money than he's already got. And he's never done drugs. Of that, I am sure."
He fixed his gaze on Dorie. "Only thing I can figure is someone must have gotten a key. No one is very careful with that sort of thing down there. You know that. He could have lucked out on a hiding place or even stolen one out of Buster's truck or the shrimp house for that matter. Buster's got a ring of keys damn near everywhere, and they're all labeled clear as day. I've warned him about it before, but the hardhead won't listen."
"He might start listening now," Dorie said. "Especially if we find out Roland has been using his place. I don't imagine Dick is going to let that slide without taking a hard look at Buster first."
"I'm sure he will. Dick wouldn't be doing his job otherwise, so you can't blame him there."
"What about anyone else in Gator Bait?" she asked. "You think anyone else could be involved in this? I figure it would have to be someone smart enough to handle the business with Roland, which lets out all of the shrimpers and laborers. I can't see Roland trusting them with this kind of work."
"No, no. Neither can I. But then you're only left with the business owners, and you know who they are. Do you really think any of them is involved in something like this?"
"I don't know what to think. That's why I'm asking."
He gave her a hard look. "It's not like it was years ago. Years ago, you'd hear of people getting involved in the running for just long enough to make their haul, then pull out and retire somewhere far away. There's no pulling out anymore. Once you're in, it's for life. You pull out these days, it's with a bullet in your head. You know that, Dori
e. You studied all this in school."
She blew out a breath and dropped back down on the couch. "I know. I've been over everything in my mind at least a thousand times and it still doesn't add up. I just can't see a reason for any of the people who I think could be involved with Roland to be involved with Roland. It's not worth the risk. And the people I'm thinking of aren't stupid."
Her dad slowly shook his head, his face sad. "I don't know what to tell you, honey. I know what the facts point to, but I just can't help thinking there's some big misdirection going on here, and the problem is not with anyone in Gator Bait at all. Least of all, Buster. He's getting ready to retire next year. Got a place in Florida all paid for. Why would he do this now? It wouldn't make sense."
Joe shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed Main Street to Jenny's Cafe. He was happy to note that a seat at the counter would afford him a look at all the comings and goings in Gator Bait. This case with Richard left a bad taste in his mouth. He was beginning to fear Dorie might come up short on this one.
Although he'd been born and raised in Gator Bait, his life was nothing like Brie's. Until his father's death, he'd had a regular two-parent home. Well, as regular as living with a hellfire-and-brimstone pastor could be. Father worked. Mother stayed home. The other residents of Gator Bait were just friends.
Dorie, however, was another story. According to Joe's mother, Sheriff Berenger hadn't had a clue how to take care of a baby when he'd brought Dorie home with him. The residents of Gator Bait had pitched right in and helped with every little detail. Consequently, Dorie had more "family" in Gator Bait than anyone else.
No, this was going to be a real hard time for Dorie. Not that he doubted her ability to handle it. He just felt she was a little too dose to the source, and it was his job to look out for her. That's why he was going to sit here in the cafe and wait until the store owners in Gator Bait closed shop, then do a bit of surveillance.
