by Jana DeLeon
She looked down the road and squinted her eyes in the sunlight. "Still, I guess I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't check it out. Prepare for another bouncing ride," she said and gave Richard a smile.
"At least I'll be on the seat this time. Tell me. How is it that you have four perfectly matched tires, and I had to drive all the way to Lake Charles on something I can't even describe?"
Dorie snorted. "In my line of work? Hell, I learned real early to have spares. I probably have four or five sets still over in Joe's garage."
Richard stared at her in obvious surprise. "You go through that many tires here? What happens to them? Is there a lot of trash in the roads?"
"Nah. It's gators mostly. They don't really like people coming into what they consider their home. I usually lose seven or eight tires a year to gator bites."
She put the jeep in drive and squealed out of the driveway, leaving a shower of dust behind.
"And are we on our way right now to one of those tire-biting locations?" he asked.
Dorie grinned.
"Great. Nothing death defying has happened in a couple of hours at least. I was starting to get bored."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Joe walked up and down Main Street, taking a critical look at the town around him. Everything looked normal, but yet it couldn't possibly be. Everyone in Gator Bait went about business as usual, completely unaware the town was under siege. Well, that wasn't exactly accurate. People were more than a little concerned about Dorie's boat being blown to bits, but as soon as they found out she was all right, it would just be another day.
Joe shook his head. What was wrong with these people? Did they really brush up against death so often that someone else's misfortune was merely conversation for Pete's Bar? Or were they like Dorie and resigned to the fact that everyone had to go sometime? Joe looked at the church and sighed.
All those years of his father preaching about the hereafter-at church, at home, on vacations. It had never made Joe comfortable with death, and he was the one person in town who ought to be. After all, he probably knew more about heaven than the angels.
He shifted his gaze to the diner. Now was the time. If he was going to cast his lot with Dorie and Richard, he'd better ask Jenny out while he was still breathing. With a new resolve, he strode across the street and pushed open the door to the cafe.
Jenny looked up in surprise as the door banged on the inside wall. "Sorry," Joe said sheepishly. This was starting off well.
Jenny smiled. "It's broken. It's supposed to be fixed this afternoon."
He nodded, relieved he wasn't destroying her restaurant, and took a seat at the counter. It was too late for lunch and too early for supper, so the diner was empty.
"Can I get you some coffee?" she asked. "Or maybe a soda?"
His mind raced over the simple question. Coffee gave you bad breath. He reached up to his shirt pocket. Damn. No mints. "Soda, please."
She fixed the soda and set the glass in front of him. "How's Dorie doing?"
"She's fine. As far as I can tell anyway. Hell, you know Dorie."
Jenny nodded. "Yes, I do. That's why I worry about her. She keeps things all bundled up inside. It's not healthy. I'm afraid one of these days she's going to blow."
He took a gulp of the soda and swallowed, trying to clear his throat. "Let's just hope if she blows anytime soon, it's around Dick's bad guy."
Jenny stared at him, her face drawn tight. "I'm really worried about her this time. This is worse than anything I've ever seen and I probably don't even know the half of it. You would tell me if there was a problem, right?"
Joe looked her straight in the eyes and considered his answer. He opened his mouth and tried to let the lie out, but couldn't speak at all. Finally, he sighed and dropped his gaze to the counter. "If something was wrong with Dorie that she didn't want known, I'm afraid I wouldn't tell you."
He raised his gaze back up to Jenny's face, expecting anger, but instead, she smiled. "You're a good man, Joe Miller. Will you do me the honor of escorting me to the Contraband Days Dance in Lake Charles?"
Before the last words left her mouth, he choked on his soda and tried to swallow, but it was impossible. Unable to breathe, he finally spit the soda back in his glass and coughed. Jenny laughed and dumped his glass in the sink behind the counter.
"Did you think I was going to wait forever?" she asked. "If you're gonna keep hanging out with Dorie and Richard, I figured I better get my time in fast."
Joe laughed. "The funny thing is, I was thinking the same thing on my way over here. I came in with the specific intention of asking you out."
"Well, then why didn't you?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Nerves, I guess." He lifted her hand from the counter and held it in his. "You're something special, Jenny. I guess I've never been sure I deserved something that good."
Jenny sighed. "Just make me one promise.”
"What's that?"
Although they were all alone in the cafe, she leaned across the counter and whispered in his ear. "Promise me you won't take so long to get around to everything."
The jeep screeched to a halt in front of a tall barrier of marsh grass, and Richard gratefully relaxed his grip on the roll bar above him. Dorie stepped out of the jeep, walked to the edge of the marsh, and took a look around.
"I don't like it," she said as he made his way over to her. "Someone's been out here. Recently." She pointed to a section of broken grass off to the left.
"Fishermen?"
She shook her head. "I doubt it. City people wouldn't know how to find this and the townspeople are smart enough to keep away."
"Is it safe to follow the trail and see where it goes?"
She grinned. "No, but that's never stopped me" Pushing the remaining grass aside, she stepped into the marsh.
He hesitated for a moment, studying the thick wall of grass that could be hiding darn near anything. "Oh, hell," he finally said and followed her into the muddy water.
They pushed their way about a quarter mile or so through the grass and came to a small clearing of hardened bayou mud that rose just far enough out of the water's path to stay dry. Dorie stepped onto the dirt and pointed to a section of broken grass just off to the left of the clearing.
"Whoever it was continued through there," she said. "And based on the boot prints in the soft mud at the edge of this clearing, it was definitely human and not animal." She looked around again and blew out a breath. "I don't know about this, Dick. I don't think we should go any farther on foot. We probably ought to come back with a small boat. At least that would get us out of the water."
He looked around and suddenly realized he couldn't see a thing beyond the small circle of dirt they were standing on. Maybe a boat was a good idea. Besides, if Dorie wasn't comfortable, he ought to be worried as hell. "Whatever you think."
Dorie nodded and had just stepped off the dirt and into the marsh when the alligator charged at Richard. The animal had been hidden in the grass just to the right of them and apparently didn't appreciate them disturbing his resting place.
Richard whipped his head around and stared at the alligator, completely horrified and frozen in place. Before he could even contemplate movement, gunshots rang out, and the gator dropped dead at his feet. He spun around and looked at Dorie, but her gun was already holstered, and she was standing calmly in a foot of water shaking her head. It was like Gunsmoke on the bayou.
He let out the breath he'd been holding with a whoosh. "Jesus Christ! I thought you couldn't kill anything in the game preserve."
She raised her eyebrows and gave him an amused look. "Did you expect me to cuff him and read him his rights?"
Realizing how ridiculous his comment sounded, Richard laughed nervously. "No, I guess not. I guess I was just expecting to die," he said in complete honesty. "I really didn't think beyond that point."
Dorie nodded and her expression turned serious. "That's why I said no one in their right mind would be out here." Sh
e looked across the dirt at the trail extending deeper into the marsh. "You know what that means?"
"Someone in his wrong mind made this trail?"
She gave him a small laugh. "Now, that would describe darn near everyone in Gator Bait, but yeah, that's the idea. Except even people in Gator Bait have more of a mind about the game preserve than to go wandering around it on foot. This had to be someone stupid enough, or desperate enough, to try to make it through here, and I don't know of a single person who fits that bill."
"Roland?"
Dorie stared at the dead alligator and shook her head. "Maybe you are chasing a ghost, Dick."
Joe left the cafe, a huge grin on his face when Jenny rushed out the door after him. "Joe, wait," she yelled. "Sherry at the retirement home is on the phone looking for Dorie and she sounds in a bad way."
Joe's heart immediately dropped. Please, God, no. Don't let anything have happened to the sheriff But as he rushed to the phone, he wondered already if this morning's confession might have been just the thing to send the sheriff's heart over the edge.
He grabbed the phone from the counter. "Sherry, it's Joe."
"Oh, Joe," Sherry wailed. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do."
"Calm down, Sherry. You've got to tell me what's wrong"
"It's the sheriff," Sherry cried, her voice rising in panic.
Joe felt every muscle in his body tighten and he braced himself against the counter. "What's happened to the sheriff, Sherry?"
"He's gone," she shrieked. "He's gone!"
Joe got what little information he could from the frantic Sherry, dropped the phone and raced out to his truck, trying to make his voice sound normal as he called for Dorie. "Dorie, call in." He waited a moment then pressed the button again. "Dorie, are you out there?" He waited another moment, but the radio remained silent.
"Damn!" He looked at Jenny, who was standing next to the truck, hand clenched by her side. "Dorie headed out to Maylene's earlier. I'm going to drive that way. I'll keep trying her on the radio. You try her on her cell and give Maylene a call, then keep a lookout in town. If you see her, tell her to get to the retirement home immediately."
She nodded as he threw his truck in gear. "Joe," she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Be careful."
He gave her a grim smile, floored the truck, and squealed down Main Street.
Dorie and Richard were wading out of the marsh, when she heard Joe's voice come over the radio. It didn't sound good. She rushed to the jeep and grabbed the radio. "Joe, it's Dorie. What's wrong?"
"Dorie, thank God. I've been trying to reach you for almost ten minutes. There's a problem with your dad."
Dorie sucked in a breath and Richard placed his hand on her shoulder. "What kind of problem?" she asked.
"He's missing. Sherry can't find him anywhere, and she's in a panic. We need to get over there. I'll meet you in town!
Dorie flung the radio into the jeep and jumped in the driver's seat. Richard barely made it around the other side before she put the vehicle in gear and tore off down the road, making the drive back to Gator Bait in record time. They slowed just enough on Main Street for Joe to jump in the back of the jeep, and then she floored the vehicle again, and raced toward the highway.
Sherry was standing in front of the building, worry etched on her face, when Dorie screeched to a halt in the middle of the driveway. Completely ignoring the no parking rules, she jumped out of the jeep and rushed into the building after Sherry, Richard and Joe not far behind.
Dorie passed the distraught Sherry in the hallway and was the first to enter her dad's apartment. "I just know something awful has happened," Sherry cried. "Oh, Dorie, please forgive me for not keeping a better eye on him." She put her hands over her face and burst into tears.
Dorie patted her on the arm. "This isn't your fault, Sherry. If Dad wanted to go, he would have gotten around you regardless of how closely you were watching him." She pointed to the empty wheelchair and looked at Richard and Joe.
Richard glanced at the chair and his eyes widened. "Good Lord. You think he wanted to leave, or did someone force him?"
Dorie slowly shook her head and studied the room. "There's no sign of a struggle, and Dad's upper body all but makes up for his legs." She walked over to the coat closet in the living room, yanked the door open and peered inside. "His manual wheelchair is gone."
Joe whistled. "Not a good sign."
Richard looked from Joe to Dorie. "What does that mean?"
Joe blew out a breath. "It means someone else was with him, and they wanted to move fast and easy. The motorized wheelchair is heavy to push, if necessary, and not easy to fit in some places."
Dorie closed the closet door and did the one thing she'd been putting off since she stepped into the apartment-she opened the drawer on the end table and looked inside. "It's gone," she said, her voice choked with fear. "Joe, it's gone."
"What's gone?" Richard asked, his voice rising with Dorie's obvious panic.
His pistol," Joe replied, his voice grim. He turned to Sherry, who was still weeping quietly and said, "I need you to pull a phone log. See who the sheriff called this morning and last night."
Sherry nodded and hurried out of the apartment. Joe and Dorie began to systematically check the rooms for missing items, leaving Richard standing helpless in the midst of chaos.
"His stash is still here," Dorie said and waved a wad of cash she'd removed from the dresser.
"Looks like all his clothes are here," Joe said and began to close the closet door, then paused and stared at the floor. "Except his boots. Why the hell would he need rubber boots?"
Dorie was struggling for an answer when Sherry rushed back into the apartment, a long sheet of computer paper trailing behind her. "It's here," she said breathlessly. "The only place the sheriff called today was the shrimp house."
"Buster," Dorie said and looked at Joe, who blew out a breath, and slumped against the wall. "What if they lied to me again, Joe? What if the whole story was a lie?"
Joe shook his head and darted a glance at Richard, then at Dorie. "We don't know that and shouldn't jump to conclusions."
Dorie looked at Richard, who was obviously aware that he'd missed something important, but wasn't about to ask. She knew Joe wanted her to keep everything quiet, at least until they figured out what was going on, but this had gone on long enough-thirty-something years too long, as a matter of fact. And it was going to end here, regardless of what Richard thought of her after she'd had her say. "First thing we have to do is find Buster," she said and looked back at Joe, who nodded.
She returned her gaze to Richard, but couldn't quite meet his eyes. "And I have a few things to explain to you on the ride back to Gator Bait."
After Dorie's confession, the remainder of the drive was completed in silence. Dorie was dying to know what Richard thought, but wasn't about to ask-not in front of Joe. Unfortunately, the agent's opinion mattered far too much to her, and she didn't want to hear that he suspected her dad was involved with Roland's latest drug run. Especially since she didn't know herself that her dad wasn't helping Roland.
Dorie dropped Joe off at his truck and he raced off to Buster's house to check things out. Dorie and Richard continued to the shrimp house.
The secretary was at the front desk when they burst in the door. She frowned at Richard and gave Dorie a brief smile. "Help you, Dorie?" she asked.
“Is Buster here?" Dorie asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
The secretary gave her a confused look. "Why, no. He got a call from your dad earlier today and raced out of here. I figured it was an emergency or something with the hurry he was in. Is your dad all right?" She stared at Dorie with obvious concern.
"I'm not sure. He's gone from the retirement home, and no one knows where he is. If you see him or Buster, please call me."
The woman straightened in her chair and nodded. “Absolutely. And I'll take a stitch out of those men if I find they've worrie
d you this way over some silliness. Bunch of old fools."
"Thanks," Dorie said as they left the shrimp house and stepped into the warehouse to question the workers. A couple of minutes later, they were back outside with no more information than they'd come in with.
Dorie stared down Main Street, then across the bayou and blew out a breath, remembering the receptionist's comment. If only silliness were the answer. Right now, she'd give anything for her dad and Buster to be on a bender at a topless bar in Lake Charles, but she knew that wasn't the case. Topless bars hadn't required rubber boots and a sidearm for years.
She reached into the jeep and picked up the radio. "Talk to me, Joe. What do you have?"
"Not a damn thing," Joe replied. "The house is empty, and the idiot left it unlocked again. No sign of his truck, but all the boats are still here."
"Boats, damn it," Dorie said. "Thanks, Joe." She threw the radio down in the jeep and hurried around the shrimp house to the dock. "I'm thinking like an amateur. We need to check the boats." She stared at the line of crafts tied off behind the shrimp house.
"Are they all here?" Richard asked.
She studied the row of boats for a moment, certain something was wrong. "No. One of Buster's old flat-bottomed aluminum boats is gone."
"Wide enough for a wheelchair?"
She stared at the empty slip and nodded, unable to speak.
"Well," he said and glanced back at the shrimp house, the gleaming row of windows reflecting the sun onto the bayou. "He didn't load your dad up here or someone would have seen him. Where would he do that if he didn't want to be seen?"
Dorie scrunched her brow in concentration. "Not any of the marinas, that's for sure." She shook her head in frustration. "There's just nowhere to load someone in a wheelchair from a car to a boat without risking being seen by someone." Then a thought hit her like lightening. "Except my place. It's completely isolated. That's the only answer."
They raced back around the shrimp house, jumped in the jeep, and tore out of the parking lot. Dorie radioed Joe on the way to tell him where they were headed. "I still don't understand why they need a boat. What the hell are they doing?"
