Rumble on the Bayou (14 page)

Dorie shrugged, climbed out of the boat and looped the tie-off line twice around a pylon."Mostly it's kids. They'll break into one of the camps with their buddies to have a party. Occasionally, we get a runaway looking for a roof for the night. Oddly enough, that always seems to happen the day report cards are issued."

Richard smiled. "I guess kids are the same everywhere, huh?" He pulled himself up on the pier.

"Pretty much, just less trouble to get into in a smaller place. Plus, more people are paying attention to other people's business," she said and stared at him, not moving.

He stared back, trying to figure out what was holding up progress when she pointed to the vest. "You plan on wearing that inside? Not much chance of drowning in the camp."

Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, he spun around and shrugged off the life vest, then tossed it into the boat. Dorie was already headed up the pier toward the camp. He trailed behind her, slowly shaking his head. What was it about this woman that made a total fool of him?

He blew out a breath and stepped off the dock and onto the dirt path through the marsh grass, thinking all the while that he probably looked as stupid around Dorie as Joe did around Jenny.

It was already evening, and the sun had just begun to set when Dorie and Richard stepped out of another camp and walked down to the pier. They'd been through the same routine well over a dozen times and had come up empty-handed.

She put a hand to her forehead and looked at the sky. "It's almost eight. We've got one more to go. You want to hit it tonight? It may be dark before we get back."

"Can you drive the boat in the dark?"

She gave him a disgusted look.

He raised his hands in the air. "All right. Stupid question. Can we get to the last camp in time to see everything before dark?"

She thought for a minute and nodded. "Yeah, but I'm going to have to take a shortcut."

"So? We've been taking shortcuts all day, right?"

She grinned. "Not like this one."

He stepped into the boat and picked up his life jacket, not liking that grin on Dorie's face one little bit. This was probably the point where passenger met water. It had been a strangely calm day between the two of them, and he wasn't about to let her get the better of him right before quitting time.

Dorie started the boat and inched away from the pier while Richard zipped his life jacket and braced himself on the bench. As soon as he was situated, Dorie pushed the throttle all the way down, and the boat leapt out of the water and raced across the bayou. They made a hard left turn into a narrow inlet, not much wider than the boat itself. Marsh grass slapped both sides of the tiny vessel as she maneuvered the many twists and turns of the cut, never reducing speed.

Richard squeezed harder to his seat, certain that any minute now they were going to hit land and launch into the bayou. He tried to scan for alligators just in case he went flying, but the wind and the spray of salt water blurred his vision.

“
You might want to sit down in the bottom of the boat for this one," Dorie shouted over the wind and engine noise.

"Why?”

"Trust me."

Dismayed, he stared at her and threw one arm up to fend off the marsh grass that raked across his face as they sped along. He was fairly certain that trusting Dorie wouldn't happen anytime soon, especially when she had that grin on her face. All the same, following her advice probably wasn't the worst idea.

Resolved to riding this one out, he dropped down to the bottom of the boat, where the hard metal proceeded to bang painfully on his tailbone. He leaned to one side and looked ahead, trying to determine their course, but he saw only land. Real land. Real land with hard dirt.

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 Dorie 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"