Perdition

by R. Jean Reid

  “Okay. Sorry, Mom,” Josh said.

  Nell was glad he didn’t try to deny his misbehavior. Lizzie had taken to denying even the glaringly obvious—such as claiming innocence that she’d anything to do with Nell’s good perfume ending up in her room. I hope Josh doesn’t become like that when he hits his teenage years, Nell thought.

  “We borrowed a rowboat once from behind the yacht club,” Josh started.

  “Borrowed?” Nell couldn’t stop herself from interjecting.

  “Mostly,” he answered. “It was me, Joey, and Dylan Yorst, and he said it was okay to take. That the adults did it all the time.”

  “Dylan Yorst, Philip Yorst’s son?” Nell asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t know you were friends with him.”

  “Well, not really, but we sometimes let him hang out with us. He’s kind of weird. But we ran into him at the beach and he had a key to the gate around the yacht club boats.”

  So the boat really was “borrowed,” Nell thought—as in, the son of the yacht club commodore wouldn’t get in trouble for taking one of the generic boats they kept there.

  “Anyway, we rowed around for a while, really just planning to go along the beach from the yacht club, but that got boring so we decided to see how far we could get down that bayou. We only went until we saw the interstate and then turned around.”

  Nell squelched the mother noise she wanted to make—the interstate was about ten miles or so inland. That seemed a long journey. It also meant they’d crossed the harbor channel—not something she wanted to think about, a small boat of inexperienced young boys chancing a run-in with commercial shrimping boats. They’d presumably kept close enough to the beach at first to be reasonably safe, but when they crossed the harbor channel—the other side a brief spit of land before the marsh took over—and went from there to the bayou, there would have been no safe place to land a small dingy.

  But that conversation would have to wait. Josh was okay and she’d have to be content with that until Joey was home safe. Then she and Josh could talk about how risky the adventure had been.

  “How did you know the bayou comes so close to where you were in the park?” she asked.

  “I recognized that oak tree—the one we met at on our bikes. You can see it from the water. We pulled the boat ashore there, since we were getting tired. There’s a path from the bayou to the trail. Not official, but you can see it’s been tramped down. Kate told me it’s probably how poachers get in and out of the park. They can’t drive by the ranger station, so they go by water.”

  Nell noted that Josh had shared his water adventures with Kate. She wondered if she should have a discussion with Kate about letting her in on some of her son’s escapades or if that was one of those places it was just wiser not to go.

  “So the tree you met at today was close enough to the bayou to be seen from it?” Nell asked.

  “Yeah, but the trail is hidden. You only know it’s there if you come from the water. We need to call the sheriff and let him know about it. They might not find it otherwise.”

  “But Kate knows about it,” Nell said.

  “Well, I told her about it, but she’s never seen it,” Josh said.

  “We’ll call when we get home,” Nell assured him. They were coming back into town, the lights from houses now doing the job of fighting the shadows. Nell turned off the high beams, not wanting to rake them through anyone’s window.

  “What if Joey’s hurt or something?” Josh pleaded. “Can’t we at least go to the harbor and see if we can see anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe he’s just getting to shore, swimming, hurt and tired and needing someone to help. Or I can recognize one of the old canoes we saw along the bayou. One was purple. You can stop and call Kate from there.”

  The mother in Nell wanted to get Josh home and safe, but she also knew that he needed to feel like he was doing something. A quick drive around the harbor wasn’t too far out of the way. And, she reminded herself, there should be enough patrons at Ray’s Bar on the far side to make it safe enough.

  She took the turn that would take them to the harbor instead of straight home.

  There were few cars around as she drove to the parking area near the mouth of the harbor. The chilly night would keep people from hanging around boats and water past sundown. Nell parked at the foot of the fishing pier that stretched about fifty yards into the Gulf.

  Josh barely let the car stop before jumping out and running onto the pier. Nell followed more slowly, understanding his need to feel motion and action. And understanding how little could be done. She had a moment’s panic at the unbidden image of a body caught in the pilings of the dock. What if that was what was waiting for them? She had, indeed, seen a few bodies pulled from the water or after weeks in the woods, and knew the full horror of such a sight. Those were nameless, faceless people, only touching her life in the brief story she wrote for the next day’s edition.

  Her pace quickened to catch up with Josh, now at the far end of the pier. She noticed that their car was the only one at this end of the harbor. The night was quiet, as if waiting for something. She realized the sounds she’d expected were absent and glanced across the harbor to Ray’s Bar. It was dark—none of the familiar neon lights blinking on and off. It was closed. Of course, Nell thought. They’re still in mourning.

  It should have been a quiet, peaceful night, but the palpable reminder of Rayburn’s murder and the mounting apprehension about Joey’s absence created fear and tension in every shadow.

  “Do you see anything?” Nell called to Josh, wanting to leave and get to the safety of their home.

  “Can’t really tell,” he replied. “Wish I had my binoculars. Might be a skiff out by the bayou.”

  “Can you be sure?” Nell asked as she joined him.

  “No,” Josh said in exasperation. “Too dark, too far. I need one of those big lights and my binoculars,” he repeated.

  Nell strained to see what he was seeing, but she could only make out vague, darkened shapes that could be anything she wanted them to be.

  “I’m going to call the sheriff.” She started to head back to get her phone, which she’d securely stuck in her purse.

  “You left the phone in the car?” Josh sighed at her breaking his strained concentration.

  As she walked back along the pier, Nell noticed a car coming around from the beach road. It slowed as it came to the bend at the harbor’s mouth. As it turned through the bend, though, it didn’t pick up speed but slowed even more. The car came to a stop. Then it slowly nosed in beside Nell’s car.

  Damn, she cursed herself. My cell phone will be attached to my hip from now on.

  She veered to the ancient pay phone in a sheltered area, hoping it had at least been updated to link to the emergency system.

  Someone got out of the car, but the street lights were behind whomever it was, making the figure nothing more than an outlined shadow.

  Nell picked up the phone, trying to make a hurried decision between calling 911 or dialing Chief Shaun, as he’d asked. Trying to keep fear at bay, she reminded herself that the harbor fishing pier was a public place, easily visible by anyone driving by. Any late-night drinkers at the yacht club, plus anyone in the houses on this side of the harbor, could easily hear … a scream? Don’t let it come to that, Nell told herself. Fumbling the card out of her pocket, she made her decision to call the police chief.

  A scrape of shoe on wood told her the person was now on the pier.

  As she punched in the numbers, Nell found herself thinking, I’m between Josh and this stranger. If need be, I can hold him off long enough for Josh to jump in and swim across the harbor. And escape a bullet?

  He was close enough for Nell to be reasonably sure it was a man, a tall man at that.

  Ring, damn it, she cursed the phon
e as it slowly clicked its way into connecting with the world. Maybe I should have called 911, she second-guessed herself. At least they were guaranteed to answer. Doug Shaun might not have his cell phone with him, or turned on.

  The man was now halfway to the sheltered area.

  Finally, she heard the first buzz of a ringing phone.

  The expectant night gave its first distinct sound: a ringing phone.

  The second ring was cut short with, “Douglas Shaun.”

  “Damn it, Chief, you might give a little warning,” Nell called out, her fear turning into anger.

  “Nell?” he asked. “Where are you?”

  “About twenty feet from where you are,” she replied, hearing his voice in both the phone and her free ear.

  “Here on the dock?” he asked.

  “No, swimming under the water. Of course I’m here on the dock. At the pay phone in the shelter.” She hung up, feeling ridiculous at talking on the phone to a man standing only a few feet away. “You scared me,” she said, stating the obvious as the police chief approached.

  “Sorry. I swear I didn’t see you,” he answered as he tucked his cell phone back into a holster on his belt. “I’m not in the habit of frightening people who write editorials.”

  He was now close enough for her to see the wry smile on his face. He continued, “I just saw the car parked there and thought I’d check it out. Maybe catch some hardened criminal illegally stealing from crab traps.”

  “You know that Joey Sayton is missing, don’t you?” Nell said.

  “Joey Sayton?” he repeated, but Nell’s tone had erased the banter in his voice.

  “Aline and Mike’s son,” Nell answered, then gave a quick rundown of the ill-fated bike trip, ending with why she and Josh were at the harbor.

  “Damn,” Chief Shaun softly swore. “Sheriff Hickson didn’t see fit to place a call to the police station. This is the first I’ve heard someone’s missing.”

  In a very soft voice, Nell asked, “Could they be related? Joey and Rayburn Gautier?” She didn’t want Josh to hear her worries.

  “Time will tell. I hope not, but … he’s been gone a long time.” He paused for a moment, the silence letting the fears in, then continued. “So Josh says there’s a waterway from the park out to the Gulf ?”

  “Seems he, Joey, and Dylan Yorst borrowed a dingy from the yacht club and went exploring,” Nell admitted.

  “Didn’t know you were a member of the yacht club. I’ve never seen you there.”

  “We’re not. But Dylan’s family certainly is, which is how they got into the grounds.”

  Chief Shaun nodded, content to leave the boat in the “borrowed” category. “Hey, Josh,” he called out as he headed in the boy’s direction. “Did you swim the bayou or just row the distance?”

  Nell followed the chief to the end of the dock.

  Josh looked from her to the police chief. “You told him about us being there?” He directed the question to Nell.

  The chief answered. “It might be important. Don’t worry, I’m not going to arrest you for boat borrowing. Did you try to swim or just row?”

  “We thought about swimming, but then Joey was worried about snakes, so we didn’t. But we figured we could have.”

  “You think that Joey might have tried to play a joke and swim back here?”

  Josh thought for a moment, then answered, “Maybe, but he would have told me about it.”

  “Not if he wanted to fool everyone and meet them back here,” Chief Shaun said.

  “Maybe, but I still think he would have at least hinted.” Josh clearly didn’t like the idea of being left out of his friend’s prank. “Besides, he would have made it here by now.”

  “He could have gotten tired. Or lost. Swimming at water level can make things look a lot different than rowing up in a boat.”

  The chief took his cell phone out and, without explanation, dialed a number. “I need some men and a boat,” he said into it. “At the mouth of the harbor. We’re going to explore the bayous looking for a lost boy.” There was a brief pause, and then he said, “The sooner the better” and ended the call.

  “Are you going to call the sheriff ?” Nell asked. “They might be already searching the bayou.”

  “I don’t hear any boats out there. Besides, he doesn’t tell me what he’s doing, why should I tell him?”

  “Because it would be the professional, competent thing to do,” Nell answered, trying to hide her exasperation at these men and their games. “Not to mention, it’s always better to let men with guns know that you’re in the area.”

  “I’ll leave word at the station to forward a message,” he tersely replied.

  “Can I go?” Josh asked. “I know the way.”

  “No, absolutely not,” Nell answered quickly.

  “Chief ?” Josh appealed.

  “Well, not if your mother doesn’t approve.”

  “But it’s okay with you?” Josh said, seeing an opening.

  “No,” Nell said. “It’s too dark and late for you to be out on the water.”

  “I’ll be with the chief of police, Mom. I’ll be okay.”

  Nell shot Shaun a look. She didn’t want to come out and say she wasn’t about to risk Josh being one of the first to find Joey’s body. Or whatever else might be out there in the water.

  But Shaun had other ideas of how to make boys into men. “He’ll be okay. There’ll be five or six of us. Since Josh’s been there before, he’ll be helpful in showing us where Joey might have gone.”

  Nell looked from her son, the eager pleading look on his face, to Chief Shaun. He looked sober and reasonable. Maybe he had a point—maybe Josh would be a useful guide. Or maybe he understood how much Josh needed to help. Am I being overly protective? Nell suddenly wondered. Has losing Thom made me afraid to let them go, even to places they need to go? And how do I best protect my son—by keeping him safe and in the house while a close friend of his might be hurt and needing help, or by letting him know that he did all he could?

  “Okay,” she relented. “But you should call the sheriff now. Or I’ll do it for you. I don’t want there to be any confusion if they run into people they don’t expect to be out there.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Chief Shaun said, giving her a mock salute. “Your son’s as safe with me as if he were my own.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Josh chimed in.

  Nell hoped to get a chance for a few private words with the chief to let him know she didn’t want her son exposed to the body of his friend, if that should be the grisly end of their search. But she didn’t get a chance amid the bustle of the boat launching and the gruff banter of the five police officers who had joined them.

  She had to settle for a quick hug that Josh squirmed out of—and his embarrassment when one of the men flirted, “Hey, I could use a hug from a pretty lady, too.” But the man said it with a friendly smile and Nell took no offense.

  She stood at the end of the dock until she could no longer even hear the motors of the two skiffs.

  It’s cold and there’s nothing more I can do here, she told herself as she turned to go. And she did intend to call Sheriff Hickson to be doubly sure he wouldn’t think the skiffs contained some deranged killers.

  As she drove away from the harbor, Nell realized how tired she was. Sometimes waiting is the most exhausting thing there is. Maybe she should have volunteered to go with Josh and the chief, she thought. It might have been better than the yawning wait that was before her. She knew that sleep would be impossible. Or, she wryly admitted, if not impossible then unthinkable, at least until Josh returned.

  The house was dark. Where is Lizzie? Nell suddenly wondered. Was she already asleep? Somehow she couldn’t imagine her daughter not taking advantage of a parental absence to be up all night on the phone or playing on the computer. Maybe she’d gone o
ver to one of her friends’ houses. With no mother around to say no, she got an automatic yes.

  As Nell pulled into the driveway, her headlights caught the movement of someone by the porch. She clicked on the high beams to catch whoever it was. The bright lights caught Lizzie flinging her arm across her eyes to protect them.

  Nell immediately switched the lights back and finished pulling into the driveway.

  She got out of the car and asked, “What are you doing out here?”

  “The door’s locked!” Lizzie answered in an angry wail. As she got closer, Nell could see the red blotches of recent crying.

  She felt a wave of dismay come over her. How long have I left my daughter out here by herself ? she thought. When she’d left to help Kate search, she was sure she’d be back before Lizzie got home. And then, in the press of events, she’d completely forgotten that she’d locked the door.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Nell said, instinctively reaching out to hug her daughter.

  Lizzie spun away. “Or maybe you meant to leave me out here!” she spat. “Where the hell were you?”

  Nell let the obscenity pass. Given her transgression, it didn’t seem the time to chide Lizzie about curse words. And in her child’s place, she doubted she’d have confined herself to just “hell.” “Please, Lizzie, I’m so sorry. This has been a crazy night.”

  “Easy for you to say. You haven’t been stuck out here in the cold. Why did you lock the door?”

  “Let’s go inside and talk.” Nell noticed that Lizzie was shivering. “I am so sorry, honey.”

  “I’ve been stuck out here for over two hours. And that weird cop came by, told me I’d better be careful, that bad things could happen to girls alone at night. That really gave me the creeps,” Lizzie said as Nell opened the door.

  “Weird cop?” Nell asked, turning to face her daughter.

  Lizzie walked past her, clicking on the kitchen lights as she did and going straight to the refrigerator. “Yeah, the same one.”

  “Was it Boyce Jenkins?” Nell asked.

  “I don’t know his name, just that he didn’t seem really friendly.” Lizzie took advantage of her wounded status to drink out of the milk carton. She’d been reading about building strong bones and was on a milk-drinking kick.