Murder in the Marsh

by Ramsey Coutta

  Daniel turned his body so that he could reach out and pick the keys up with his shackled hands. He unlocked the cuff from one wrist, and as the Sheriff commanded, he slid back from the piling so that both arms were free. With his free hand, he tossed the set of keys to the Sheriff. Instead of tossing them directly to him, he tossed them a little high in a looping arc. The Sheriff tried to catch the keys with the same hand he held the flashlight, but he lost sight of them in the dim light. The keys fell behind him as he turned to catch them. In the same instant, Daniel sprang up from the floor and dashed toward the back of the camp. The Sheriff abandoned his attempt to retrieve the keys, and fired wildly at Daniel as he fled. The rounds buried themselves harmlessly in the camp walls.

  Daniel had no idea if there were any possible escape routes in the back rooms of the camp. If he had to, he could try to bust out a wall. He ran into a back bedroom. The ceiling had fallen through and the floor had partially caved in. Through the gaping hole he could see marsh grass and mud below. Without delaying, Daniel jumped through the hole with the handcuffs dangling from his left wrist. The landing was soft, but there was nowhere to go. If he crawled out from under the camp into the open marsh, the Sheriff would have a clean shot at him. If he stayed under the camp, it would just be a matter of time before the Sheriff pinned down his location and ended it for him. His best bet would be to crawl towards the bayou at the front of the camp.

  “Trahan! Come on out! Your father tried the same thing too. It didn’t work. Don’t make it worse for yourself!”

  Daniel could hear the Sheriff stumbling around in the dark above him. He moved underneath a covered section of the floor and squeezed as close to a piling as he could. He knew he needed to make his move quickly. He could hear the Sheriff preparing to lower himself through the collapsed hole in the floor.

  The Sheriff’s flashlight beamed down through the collapsed floor and Daniel could see one leg lowering down followed by another. Daniel felt around and found the abandoned shells of an oyster cluster. When the Sheriff bent down to shine his flashlight underneath the camp, Daniel threw the cluster off to the side of the Sheriff. The Sheriff, hearing the sound, turned his flashlight in that direction. Daniel immediately crawled on his hands and his knees as fast as he could through the muck away from the Sheriff and toward the bayou. The closer he came to the water, the more oyster shells he encountered, which sharply cut his palms and knees. He didn’t care; he just waned to get to safety. By this time the Sheriff heard him moving, and turned firing two more shots at him. The rounds splattered in the mud.

  After what seemed like the longest crawl in his life, Daniel reached the dock pilings and the water. The tide was up and he slid head first into the water trying to keep a low profile. His best bet, he thought, would be to swim underwater directly out away from the camp and then turn back to his left, swimming parallel to the bank. Then he could make his way back to the marsh grass and hopefully hide in the reeds. He began swimming around the docked boat and out into the bayou. He could not see underwater in the darkness and had to come up every thirty seconds or so to see if he was heading in the right direction. Though the moon was out, the clouds shrouded much of its light and he could see very little. The wind formed small white caps on the surface of the water, and several times he swallowed water as he tried to catch a breath at the surface. Finally, he started swimming to his left, parallel with the bank. When he did so, he noticed the Sheriff had come out on the dock. He swept the beam of the flashlight around the dock and water. So far he hadn’t spotted Daniel.

  Daniel began to tire from the exertion. While he was a good swimmer, he hadn’t swam long distance in a while. The handcuff on his wrist didn’t help either. Though the tide was up, it was going out. Daniel realized he would have done better to turn to the right. In that way, he would be moving with the tide and it would have carried him farther faster. It was too late to change course now.

  Daniel kept swimming for as long as he could. He swam mainly under water, but eventually reached the point where he was so tired the best he could do was breaststroke at the surface. When it seemed like he could stay afloat no longer, he turned back toward the bank. With the last of his energy departing him, he reached an area shallow enough that his legs could support him. The thick mud sucked off both of his shoes. He continued to trudge forward, wanting to fall over into the stiff marsh grass. The tall grass would serve as a blind as long as he remained laying down. Finally, he reached a point well away from the water. The Sheriff would have difficulty finding him.

  As Daniel lay wet and uncomfortably in the stiff marsh grass, he heard the Sheriff start up the engines of the patrol boat. At first, the boat went in the opposite direction. Fifteen minutes later, it came slowly back along the bank toward him. The Sheriff used the powerful spotlight on the boat to search the marsh grass. As the patrol craft drifted past his position, the spotlight cut through the grass like a knife. Daniel remained as motionless as possible. The Sheriff swept back and forth along the bank several more times before Daniel heard the engines power up and recede in the distance. Daniel guessed the Sheriff would be back. He would probably try to track him down in the morning light. The Sheriff would know he couldn’t go far. If he didn’t find him to finish the job, he could abandon him to the hurricane. Daniel thought he might have one more chance to save himself tomorrow, and possibly Claude. He would have to be ready.

  Twenty-One

  Sunday, August 28th, 2005

  Rachel awoke Sunday morning to the sound of gusting wind rattling the tin roofing as it swept through the rafters. A light rain smacked forcefully against the bedroom window, as if handfuls of tiny pebbles were being thrown against it. It took a moment for her to awaken sufficiently to remember she was at the LeBlanc house. A wave of apprehension returned, as she remembered the hurricane and the need to evacuate as soon as possible. It was already light outside, and they needed to make the most of the daylight hours.

  Rachel felt like she should be preparing for Sunday worship instead of fleeing for her life from a powerful hurricane. Lying in the bed, she heard Adele on the phone in the living room. Adele had tried during the night to find out where Andre had been taken, but without luck. This morning it sounded as if she had gotten hold of someone and was finally receiving the information she longed for. At one point, Rachel heard Adele heave a sigh of relief and begin to softly cry. She continued talking and asking questions, so Rachel decided not to interrupt. She would use a few minutes to read the Bible and pray about the day ahead of them.

  Shortly after Rachel finished her reading, she heard Adele hang up. She got out of bed, opened her bedroom door, and looked out. Adele stood by the telephone, lost in thought, dabbing the tears away from her eyes.

  “Is everything all right? Did you hear anything about Andre?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes, Andre, dey took him to West Jefferson Hospital. He had an emergency appendectomy and dey say he is fine. He’s awright and is sleeping. Dey will take care of him until ah can come.”

  “I’m glad he’s alright, Adele. I know you’ve been worried sick.”

  “Yes. But tank de Lord he’s okay.”

  “I was just about to pray before we got started. Would you like to do so together? We can ask the Lord for his protection and we can also thank Him for taking care of Andre.”

  Adele readily agreed.

  After praying together by the side of the bed, they woke Michelle and made some sandwiches to eat and to take with them. During the night, before they went to bed, they removed everything from the boat. They were glad they did, because the rain filled the bottom of the boat by morning. As Rachel and Adele stepped outside on the dock to prepare for their trip, they discovered the weather to be even worse than they expected. Adele gave Rachel one of Claude’s raincoats. The rain stung their face and made it difficult to prepare the boat. The flat bottom aluminum vessel would comfortably fit three to four, but was not made to carry a load of supplies. Adele found the switch for the s
mall pump in back of the boat and flipped it on. The water in the bottom began to stream out a drain valve on the side of the boat. In a minute or two, all the water had been pumped out.

  Returning to the house, Adele fitted Michelle in a raincoat and a small life preserver. Adele explained to Michelle what they were going to do and tried to reassure her everything would be all right. Adele had difficulty concealing her emotions and concern for her daughter’s safety. Michelle nodded bravely as her mother talked to her.

  After Adele prepared Michelle, the two women strapped life preservers over their raincoats. Adele tried once more on the marine radio to see if she could contact Claude or Daniel. Despite several attempts, no reply came. Rachel wrote a note stating they had evacuated to Port Sulphur to her apartment. She also wrote about Andre’s situation and his surgery at the hospital. She pinned it on the wall facing the front door. Adele took one more look around and closed the door behind her.

  Twenty-Two

  Daniel didn’t rest during the night. A light rain started to fall after midnight, stopping and starting until early morning, when it began to fall continuously. The wind picked up speed, blowing the stinging rain sharply against his face and body. Before daylight, he decided to make his way back to the camp for cover, knowing he was exposing himself to greater danger. If the Sheriff didn’t return, he would have to weather the storm in the old camp and hope the structure could withstand the hurricane. If the Sheriff did return, he would need to be prepared to face him.

  Daniel struggled to make it back to the camp. He picked his way through the marsh grass, often finding his legs sinking up to his knees in the underlying mud. The grass itself was stiff and the root balls and ever-present oyster shells bruised and cut his naked feet. Close to daybreak, he finally made it back and crawled up through the collapsed floor. The respite from the rain was welcomed relief, and though the air temperature was warm, he shivered constantly. He stripped off his shirt and wrung the water out, and did the same with his pants. In doing so, he remembered his cell phone in his pant’s pocket, but when he pulled it out he found it was busted and unusable.

  As Daniel looked around the camp, an idea began to develop in his mind. He noticed in the bedroom he escaped from, the roof and outside wall were dangerously close to collapsing even further. He located a thin rotted piling serving as the primary support for the wall. He determined that if the wall came down, the back portion of the roof would as well. Standing in the rain by the outside wall, he found a solid oyster cluster he used as a primitive ax. For fifteen minutes, he hacked at the piling until he chiseled it down to the thinnest diameter it could be and still support the wall. He then searched the camp, finding in the back corner of another room an old frayed rope. He tied the rope to the piling just above where he had chopped it nearly in two. He then pulled the rope out to its full length of about thirty feet straight away from the camp through the marsh grass. He concealed as much of it as he could with grass and mud, then crawled wet and tired back into the camp settling in to wait for the Sheriff.

  Daniel sat shivering, looking out the front door of the camp, wanting to fall asleep but knowing he couldn’t. Outside, the dark gray clouds boiled overhead as the wind and rain continued to pick up. A fog seemed to hover over the water, caused by the continuous splatter of rain on its surface. The wind gusts periodically bent the marsh shrubs, and rattled the decayed structure of the camp. Only a desperate person would be out in this weather, Daniel thought. He wondered if the Sheriff was anxious enough to come back for him. Daniel also wondered about Claude. Deep inside, he had doubts whether this man he had never met was still alive. If his boat sank and he was in the water, hypothermia might have already taken him, not to mention the possibility of drowning. Even if Daniel did manage to overcome the Sheriff and commandeer the patrol boat, how could he expect to find Claude in this storm?

  An hour passed, and Daniel began to give up hope the Sheriff would return. It would be easier for the Sheriff to allow Daniel to die in the hurricane. But if he believed Daniel could find a way to make it back and report what had happened, past and present, he would return to thwart that. Thirty more minutes passed. Daniel stood up and began pacing, thinking about what to do next. Moments later, he heard the muffled sound of boat engines approaching in the bayou. He shielded himself behind the doorframe, and continued to peer out. In a few minutes, the familiar sight of the patrol boat appeared. Someone in a heavy green raincoat stood at the wheel. Daniel assumed it was the Sheriff. The Sheriff seemed to be scanning the marsh, as he slowly guided the boat, presumably looking for Daniel. He probably couldn’t see well in the rain, Daniel thought. Finally, he steered for the camp boat dock and brought the craft to a standstill next to it. He tied the boat off and leaned over, picking up a heavy rifle. Daniel felt a wave of apprehension sweep through him, when he saw the rifle. With it the Sheriff could pick him off at a greater distance across the marshland.

  As the Sheriff stepped from the boat to the dock, Daniel stepped out into the open doorway. The Sheriff saw him immediately, but wasn’t in position to aim his rife.

  “Sheriff, it doesn’t have to be this way!” Daniel shouted. “You committed a horrendous murder when you killed my father, and you deserve to suffer for it. But there is such a thing as accepting responsibility for your actions, and I’m going to give you that chance.”

  The Sheriff now stood firmly on the dock, while the rain poured down and the wind whipped his raincoat about him. He brought the rifle up across his chest, but did not aim.

  “Don’t make me laugh, Trahan. It’s too late for that. If I wanted to turn myself in, it would have been a long time ago. I’m not planning on spending my final years in prison, caged with the scum I’ve arrested. I wouldn’t last a day.”

  “There’s something more important than the punishment you might receive in this world, Sheriff,” Daniel shouted over the rain and wind. “Your actions will condemn you even worse in the next life if you don’t seek repentance and forgiveness.” Daniel was surprised at his own words. Over the past couple of days a spiritual reawakening had begun to take place within him.

  “Trahan, it’s amazing how much you’re like your father. You both think forgiveness is the answer. Well, I’m not looking for forgiveness. I’m looking for finality!”

  Sheriff Holet raised his rifle, aiming squarely at Daniel. In the same instant, Daniel lunged back behind the wall. The explosion of the rifle was matched only by the ferocity by which the bullet tore through an inside wall of the house. Immediately after the rifle shot, Daniel ran past the open doorway toward the back bedroom, giving the Sheriff no time to get off another round. He slid through the collapsed hole in the floor and ran though the marsh grass to the end of the concealed rope. Though it was raining and gusting, the Sheriff would be inside the camp and could take better aim with his rifle. Daniel would be out in the open with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. As he turned to face the camp, the Sheriff appeared at the window. He spotted Daniel, and raised his rifle to fire. Simultaneously, Daniel knelt down, grabbed the rope, and pulled with all his might. To his horror, the rope snapped at midpoint, and the roof and wall did not collapse. The Sheriff fired again, but missed as Daniel heard the round sizzle overhead. The only thing that saved him was having knelt down just as the round exploded from the rifle.

  Sheriff Holet ejected the casing and chambered another round. Daniel saw no other alternative but to charge straight toward the Sheriff. He churned through the mud as fast as he could, while the Sheriff tried to aim at his moving target. Daniel lunged for the broken end of the rope. Grabbing it, he pulled again. This time it held, and the piling give way underneath the Sheriff. At the same instant, the Sheriff fired, grazing Daniel’s head. Daniel was close enough that he could smell the gunpowder from the rifle. The wall and roof continued to fall, giving the Sheriff no time to react. The back portion of the camp collapsed inward, burying the Sheriff in the debris.

  Lying stunned for several seconds, not b
elieving he could still be alive, Daniel picked himself up. He waited a few moments to see if there was any movement, and walked cautiously toward the collapsed bedroom. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but after feeling it, he determined the wound wasn’t that serious. The Sheriff could still be alive and easily pull his pistol and kill him, he thought. As he searched the debris, he had trouble finding the Sheriff underneath the pile of wood. He carefully bent down and peered up under the woodpile. It took him a moment to find the Sheriff, who was not moving. He cautiously reached under and took hold of his wrist. He checked for a pulse, but found none. Daniel noticed a large piece of piling had fallen across the back of the Sheriff’s neck, causing his head to lay awkwardly. He was certain the Sheriff’s neck was broken. He felt around and found the keys to the handcuffs on his wrist and unlocked them, throwing them to the side. Taking a deep breath, he felt both stunned and relieved at the turn of events.

  Twenty-Three

  The wind and rain made it difficult for Rachel and the LeBlancs to board the small boat. Already, water had begun to fill the bottom of the vessel, and it had to be re-pumped. They only carried a couple of bags of clothes and food. Since she already had some familiarity with operating the boat, Rachel took the wheel, while Adele and Michelle sat ahead of her to distribute the weight. Rachel bent under the dash and twisted the ignition wires together. The engine hacked and smoked, then finally started. With everyone settled in, Adele untied from the front and Rachel the back.

  Immediately, Rachel could tell it was going to be a more difficult journey than she imagined. The powerful wind was blowing from the southeast to the northwest, and began driving the boat toward the opposite side of the canal, before she even got it out of neutral. Rachel quickly engaged the engine, and it lurched forward. With the bow already pointing toward the opposite bank, the boat accelerated forward and threatened to ram into a dock across the canal. The rain continued to lash at them, which made it harder for Rachel to judge distances. She turned the wheel to the left, and the nose of the boat began to follow, but not fast enough. A minute later they slammed sideways into the dock, violently jolting everyone. Michelle let out a scream of fear, causing Adele to pull her closer to comfort her.