Rumble on the Bayou (36 page)

He shook his head. "I need to take care of some business. It couldn't wait." He didn't bother to tell her that Dorie wasn't at the hospital either. Maybe if people assumed she was there, Roland would, too.

Stella put down her box cutter and gave him her full attention. "How's the sheriff? And I don't want any bullshit. I want to know the truth."

He smiled. "He's all right. I swear." He held up one hand. "He came out of surgery just fine. No internal organs were hit, and his heart stayed stable the entire time. The doctor only said to be careful of infection."

Stella nodded. "That's good to hear. Dorie has had enough problems going on here lately without her daddy acting a fool. What the hell was that man thinking, leaving the retirement home? And what the hell was Buster thinking, taking him out of there? Do you have any idea who shot him? Damn poachers, probably. Those city folk are going to kill us all someday."

He blew out a breath and shrugged. "We're not really sure what they were doing."

She gave him a sharp look, and Joe knew she was aware he was leaving out a big hunk of the story "What about Buster? Anyone seen him yet?"

"No."

She scrunched her forehead and thought for a moment."What the hell is going on in this town, Joe?"

"I don't know, but I'm trying to find out. In fact, I have a question for you, if you don't mind?"

"Sure."

He looked out front and saw that the driver had returned and was smoking a cigarette out by the truck. "The driver you hired-where did you find him?"

Stella looked at Joe in surprise. "I didn't find him."

"Pete said you found the guy and negotiated the deal."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know where you're going with this, but I can assure you that I did not find the driver. He contacted me and said that he had talked to Pete at a bar in Lake Charles. Said Pete had given him my name and number as a contact because I was better at figuring out the business end of things than him."

Joe stared at Stella, a bit stunned at her comment. What in the world was going on here? Joe looked back out at the driver, still leaned against his truck smoking a second cigarette. "What's he waiting on?"

"I got some boxes in the storeroom that need to be loaded, returns and recycling and such. He said loading wasn't part of his job, but he'd get to it in a minute."

Joe glanced back outside at the driver. He showed no signs of moving anytime soon. "I don't suppose you'd mind if I took a look in a few of those boxes."

Stella threw her hands in the air in surrender, apparently deciding he had lost his mind. "Of course, you can look in the boxes, but when all is said and done, Joe Miller, you're going to owe me one hell of an explanation."

"Yes, ma'am," Joe said and followed her back into the storeroom.

***

Dorie sat rigid in the boat, unable to speak. Her mind was whirling with the information Richard had given her. At first, she hadn't wanted to believe it, but his story filled in too many missing elements in her past. The mother that no one spoke of, the difference in appearance between her and her dad and his silence all those years when she was a little girl and wanted to know about her past.

How could he? How could he have done this to me?
And knowing all the time that she was chasing Roland-the man who had fathered her and most likely killed her mother?

"What I don't understand," she finally said, "is your excuse for not telling me the truth." She focused directly on Richard.

He looked at her for only a moment before averting his eyes. "I promised your dad I wouldn't. I was giving him the opportunity to tell you himself. He was supposed to do it soon. How was I supposed to know that he was going to disappear and get himself shot?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You weren't, but after he disappeared and I told you about his past with Roland, you could have told me then. I told you my secret and at no small expense, I might add. What was stopping you?"

He shrugged but didn't look at her. "I don't know. I guess I didn't want to tell you any more than your dad did. It wasn't a pretty story." He finally turned his gaze to her. "You have to understand, Dorie, that I never intended things to get this out of control. I didn't want people hurt, especially you and your father. I've spent all these years tracking Roland to try to prevent people from being hurt. Or at least that's what I've told myself. Maybe it was all just a convenient lie in order for me to justify my revenge."

She sucked in a breath, never having considered it that way, and wondered how she would feel if the situation was reversed. Would she have used everyone around her at any expense to avenge a loved one? She tried to imagine it, but her emotions were already too clogged to process anything else. And why had Richard been so reluctant to tell her the truth-regardless of how sordid it was? Was it possible that he cared for her more than he let on? Was his concern for her more than it would have been for anyone else in the same situation? Her chest constricted at the thought. She wasn't ready for this. Not now. Too much in her life was unsettled.

And that was a gross understatement.

She looked at him again and took in his miserable expression, the apprehension in his eyes when he looked at her. He's not sure either. All these secrets had probably put an end to something before it had ever really gotten started.

And maybe it was best that way. Richard was going to keep trying to catch Roland. He'd be far from Gator Bait, maybe even as soon as tomorrow. Despite her offer to help him apprehend Roland if he left Gator Bait, she knew he wouldn't or couldn't take her up on it. The DEA would close up shop before they allowed any assistance from the biological daughter of the man they were after.

"I'm sorry, Dorie," he said. "I didn't want to hurt you any more than you already have been, but there's still the possibility we might face Roland before this is over. I couldn't allow you to do that without knowing the truth."

She nodded. "I understand. But the truth doesn't change what I have to do."

"Maybe not, but it might change how you do it."

She gazed down the bayou for a moment and considered his words. Did knowing that Roland had fathered her make a difference in how she would handle a confrontation? Instinct told her it didn't, but how could she be sure? Realizing there was only one way to find out, she started the boat, and hoped that Roland was still around.

***

The truck driver opened a cell phone and dialed. "We might have a problem," he said. "'That deputy was at Stella's and Pete's asking questions."

He paused for a minute waiting for instructions.

"No, not the woman. This was the guy. I haven't seen the woman or that DEA agent anywhere. Maybe they're still at the hospital. So do we move now or what?"

The driver listened for a moment, then closed the phone. It was time to get this over with, collect his money, and disappear. This deal had obviously gone sour and although he had no real aversion to killing a man-or woman, for that matter-it wasn't really something he wanted following him around when the job was done and he was all set to relax.

***

"Dorie, come in." Joe radioed out from the sheriff’s office.

"Go ahead, Joe." The reply came quickly.

"I think I've found our transport, and it's leaving town today."

"What have you got?"

Joe told her about the truck driver and Stella's and Pete's comments. "It looks like someone set the driver up to play off each of them, both thinking the other had made the initial contact. And to have done that, we're right back to someone from Gator Bait. Someone very clever."

"But Stella and Pete were clean?"

"As far as I can tell. Stella was a little ticked that I had her open her return and recycle boxes, but they were clear. She'll get over it as soon as all this is said and done. Pete didn't have any returns at all, so Stella was the only one sending anything back with the driver."

There was silence for a couple of seconds, then Dorie said, "Can you watch him and see where he goes without him catching on?"

He considered this for a minute. "I could probably track him within fifteen miles or so from the top of the motel. The guy's already noticed me asking questions, so I'm sure he'd catch a tail."

"Do that, then. Try the top of the motel and see if you can find where he lands. Call in backup from Lake Charles. Do not try to arrest this guy alone. Do you understand me, Joe?"

"Yeah, I understand," he said, although he didn't like it. "I'll call Lake Charles right away and get to the top of the motel as soon as he leaves."

"Call if you get a fix on him."

"Yep," he said and placed the radio on the table.
Call Lake Charles.
Damn it, he didn't want backup. Dorie ran around risking her life all the time without backup, and he wasn't even counting on Richard. A big help he had been so far. He looked at the phone on the desk and sighed.

"Shit," he said as he picked up the phone and dialed.

***

Dorie and Richard were a couple hundred yards from the preserve when she cut the throttle on the boat, pulled out a pair of binoculars and scanned the preserve.

"Anything?" Richard asked.

She shook her head. "Not that I can see. Of course, the grass is pretty high in the breeding ground. It would be easy to hide in a small boat."

"So what do you think?"

Pulling her gun from the holster, she checked it one last time. "I think it's time to end this."

He drew his firearm, gave her a nod, and took a deep breath as she approached the breeding grounds. They were only fifty yards or so from the location on the map when he saw the alligators. Joe was right. They were everywhere.

A head or tail stuck out of every piece of brush and the water surrounding the boat was filled with them-not a spare foot or two between them. He looked down just as a big one, probably fifteen feet or so, drew alongside the boat.

They were definitely outnumbered. Not in his wildest nightmares did he think pursuing Roland would ever come down to this. He looked around again. Maybe Roland was losing it. There had to be easier ways to do business than hiding things here.

He was just about to tell Dorie to turn around and call in the National Guard when she pointed to the right of the boat. Looking out over the bow, he saw a stretch of dirt rising up out of the marsh. Smack in the middle of that stretch was a stack of duffle bags.

"Unless some of the gators are planning a vacation," she said, "I think we've found the drugs."

He nodded. "Yeah, but how do we get to them? And don't tell me you're walking up there."

She shook her head. "I'll pull the boat as far up the bank as we can go. I have a supply of flares in the equipment box. The gators hate them, and I should have enough to create a path to the drugs. We'll have to hurry, though."

The understatement of the decade.

"Yeah, we'll hurry," he said, looking once more at the hundreds of alligators surrounding that small spot of land and wondering whether there was a world record for the fifty-yard dash while carrying heroin.

***

It had taken a bit of explaining, but Joe was finally perched on the rooftop of the motel with a set of binoculars pinned on the delivery truck. The driver had left Gator Bait just ten minutes earlier, and Joe had waited until he turned the corner off Main Street, then hustled across the street and convinced Stella to let him sit on the roof of the motel. At first, she'd thought he was crazy and insisted on him sitting inside in the air-conditioning and having a glass of water.

Joe had explained the situation in a rush only for Stella to yell at him and ask him what the hell he was waiting for. He hustled to the roof, found a spot to sit, and waited for the driver to stop. Lake Charles was sending two backup units, but it would take them at least an hour to get there. He had already decided, orders or no orders, if he thought he could take this guy down, that's just what he was going to do. Dorie would have to get over it. After all, he'd been putting up with her dangerous stunts his entire life. He was due one of his own.

The truck made a right turn off the highway and Joe scanned the area for something familiar. "Damn," he said out loud. The driver was traveling down the road in front of Maylene's house. No wonder Maylene had been complaining about noise lately. Between the plane and someone scouting the road for a getaway, her quiet little world had probably been very busy. If she hadn't been such a drunk, they might have caught on a little sooner.