Clint Wolf Series Boxed Set 3

by B J Bourg

  Cupping one hand beside my face and aiming the beam of my light through the window, I peered inside. The beam of light acted as an illuminating finger as it moved across the interior surface. It seemed like a typical truck interior. There was an empty coffee mug in the cup holder, a crumpled bag from a fast food joint on the back floorboard, a sweatshirt on the back seat, several receipts on the front driver’s floorboard, and a knife clipped to the seatbelt.

  “Do you have a key to the truck?” I asked.

  “No, not with me. There’s one back home. Do I need to get it? I could call my wife and have her bring it here first thing in the morning.”

  I thought about it, but then shook my head. I wanted to tell him we’d need the key if we couldn’t find his children, but I didn’t want to put that thought in his head. I moved away from the truck and examined every inch of the trailer and exterior of the truck, but I couldn’t find a single piece of evidence to suggest there had been a struggle out here. It appeared they had launched the boat, parked the truck in this spot, and then set out on the water. At least we knew they made it out of the parking lot. We now had to figure out where they were heading and if they’d made it to their destination or not.

  “Do you have any idea where this bear sighting had taken place?” I asked.

  “No, sir. I’ve got no clue.”

  I wanted to ask him how it was that he hadn’t obtained that crucial information before they set out, and I wanted to lecture him on always knowing where his kids were heading, but I refrained. The man was clearly suffering, and I didn’t want to drop a load of guilt atop what he was already feeling.

  “Do they have any friends who would’ve known precisely where they were going?”

  He shook his head again.

  Shit, don’t you know anything?

  Instead of saying what I thought, I slapped his shoulder and told him we’d do our best to bring his kids back home safe and sound. Right about then, Melvin came roaring into the parking lot in his department’s F-250, kicking up shells as he raced toward the dock. Behind the truck was the large boat trailer upon which rested the Boston Whaler we’d acquired a few months ago.

  Without slowing down, Melvin whipped his truck around and came to a lurching stop. He then backed up until the boat and trailer had plunged down the ramp and into the water. I hurried over to help him, but he had dismounted quickly and begun working the winch on the trailer by the time I reached his truck.

  Neither of us needed to speak as we worked to launch the boat. We’d been through this routine enough times to know our roles, and we performed our tasks without thought. Once the boat was in the water and Melvin had set off to park the truck, I waved Gary over and told him to board the vessel and take the seat at the front of the boat.

  “You mean, I can come with you guys?”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said. “The more eyes we have on the water the better.”

  “You think they’re in the water?”

  I winced inwardly. “No, I just mean the more eyes we have on the surface of the water—searching for the boat—the better.”

  That didn’t seem to satisfy him. I noticed the fear on his face that hadn’t been there earlier. Sure, he had seemed nervous at first, but now he appeared terrified, as though he knew something bad had happened to his kids. Seeing the police lights on the boat and Melvin’s uniform had made it all very real for Gary Shelton.

  “God, I hope they’re not in the water,” I said under my breath, not wanting to see another family ripped apart by the loss of a loved one—especially a child. We’d had too much of that around these parts lately.

  CHAPTER 6

  The thing I loved most about riding in a boat was the artificial wind it made, and the fact that the mosquitoes couldn’t touch us while we were blazing a trail across the surface of the water.

  The breeze blew my dark brown hair back and caused my eyes to squint against its power. I was sitting to the right side of Melvin, who was driving. He made his way along Bayou Tail, dodging fallen logs that were just under the surface and crab pot floats that marked the locations of various crab traps like he was born to it.

  “What’ll happen if it gets dark?” Gary asked, turning to face us. He had to raise his voice above the whipping wind and the roar of the twin engines.

  “We’ll just have to use lights,” I said. “I promise you this…we won’t come back until we find their boat.”

  That seemed to satisfy him, but it was only because he didn’t anticipate what I’d left out. The boat would be easy enough to find, unless they’d made their way to the Gulf of Mexico and had been lost at sea. Depending on the size of their vessel—and judging by the boat trailer, it wasn’t big—venturing out into the Gulf could prove foolhardy, as they could have been pulled out to sea or the crashing waves along the coast could have easily flipped them. If they had remained in the lake, we should easily find the boat, but we might not find them. If any of the kids had gone overboard, it might be days before we’d recover a body.

  Once we broke free from Bayou Tail and were out on the lake, Melvin began patrolling the banks, beginning along the southern bank and working his way westward. The sun was going down, which meant it was directly in our eyes and blinding us.

  “I can’t see shit,” I said to Melvin. I stood to my feet and grabbed onto the rail that held up the canopy above us. “The sun’s too bright.”

  Melvin only nodded. His eyes were scanning the shore. Since it was obvious there weren’t any boats on the water in that area, I began scanning the shore with him as we made our way to the end of the southern side. Melvin continued following the shore around the bend, heading north now. After traveling for a few minutes, I caught sight of the island up ahead. I glanced at Melvin.

  “Yep,” he said without looking at me, “I remember what happened on the island.”

  I just nodded, wondering if the kids were looking for something other than black bears. Buried treasure, perhaps? Melvin passed along the east side of the island, and then remained parallel to the shore until he had made a complete circle of the area. I was relieved to see that the boat hadn’t been tied along the island.

  “Black bears it is,” Melvin said, his voice betraying the relief he felt. I knew he thought like I did, that if we ever had to go back on that island—even a hundred years from now—it would be too soon.

  We had lost some time circling the island, but Melvin buried the throttle and we were now racing across the lake, knowing we’d never reach the opposite side before the sun disappeared beyond the distant trees.

  We zipped by the dozens of camps that occupied the western banks and Gary twisted around in his seat again. “How many people live out here?”

  We had passed a few camps where we saw people outside fishing, working, or just enjoying the day. We’d stopped at each of those camps and I’d asked if they’d seen a boat occupied by two young couples, but no one had seen anything. Gary didn’t like that I’d called them couples, and interjected that his daughter wasn’t dating his son’s friend.

  Now, I leaned over the console and explained to Gary that most of the people back here lived inland, but they came out to the camp every chance they could. “We might have a handful of retirees who live out here fulltime,” I explained, “but most of these camps serve only as weekend getaways.”

  Gary frowned, and I knew he had been hoping his kids would’ve been in a lake that was highly populated, thus offering them support in case they got into trouble. The sad reality was that they were on their own out here. If they had gotten into trouble, they’d have to figure a way out of it on their own, unless we showed up in time to save them.

  It was dark by the time we’d circled the lake. Melvin had activated the powerful spotlight that was mounted above the canopy. I worked the controller on the light and we scanned every inch of the lakeshore—lighting it up like the daytime—but we didn’t see any sign of the boat or the missing students. When we’d made our way back to the e
ntrance to Lake Berg, Melvin shut off the engine and we all sat there in the dark. The only sound we heard was that of the water lapping against the boat.

  “Why are you stopping?” Gary’s voice was shrill. “Where in the hell are my kids?”

  Melvin’s face glowed in the light from the console, and I could see he was concerned. He didn’t say anything. I took a breath and exhaled. “Are you sure they didn’t mention anything about where they could’ve gone?” I asked. “Anything at all, however minor or slight, might be helpful.”

  The middle-aged man was sitting on the front seat, leaning forward. His elbows were propped on his knees and his head was resting in his hands. The moon was bright, but we were under the canopy and I couldn’t make out the expression on his face. If I were to guess, I’d say he was starting to panic. I didn’t blame him.

  “I mean, they just said they were coming out here to search for black bears and to camp. It’s not like they’re children, you know? They’re adults now and they can come and go as they please. I didn’t press them about it.”

  “Did they mention Lake Berg?” I asked.

  “That doesn’t sound familiar.” He was silent for a long moment, and then I heard him exclaim. “Wait a minute—they did say something about a lake, but it wasn’t Lake Berg. It was a different name.”

  A ray of hope formed in my chest. “Melvin, isn’t there another lake south of here?”

  “Yeah, it’s called Le Diable Lake. It’s about three and a half miles from here, but we’d have to pass through this narrow canal that’s mostly clogged with debris. Every time a storm blows through here it deposits an ass-load of timber and other garbage in the channel. Not many people venture out that way.”

  “What’s it mean?” Gary asked.

  “What?” Melvin and I asked in unison, both turning to face him.

  “The name of the lake—what’s it mean?”

  “It means The Devil,” Melvin said.

  “That’s it!” he said. “They said something about bears being seen around the Devil’s Lake!”

  CHAPTER 7

  Melvin hadn’t been joking. The narrow canal was littered with stumps and branches and other types of debris, and the going was slow. Although we were puttering along at a snail’s pace, the boat would rock roughly when we’d collide with the floating timber. I was standing up searching the bank to my left during one such collision and I nearly fell overboard.

  “Hold on,” Melvin warned. “You don’t want to go in the water around here. If the alligators don’t get you, you’ll probably be crushed to death between the logs.”

  His comment brought a gasp from the front of the boat where Gary was following the beam of light with his eyes, and I knew he was wondering if that was what had happened to his kids and their friends. I wanted to offer a word of encouragement but I didn’t know what to say that would be believable, so I kept my mouth shut.

  After an hour or so of rough and slow riding, Melvin turned to the left and broke through the debris. We finally found ourselves in a wide body of water. I aimed the light across the lake, but the darkness and distance swallowed it up.

  “How far to the other side?” I asked.

  “It’s close to two miles long and just under a mile wide.” Melvin’s head shifted from right to left. “Keep your eyes out for aggressive gators. The last time I was here one of them attacked the boat. They’re not used to seeing people this far out and we’re just another meal to them.”

  Gary didn’t say anything, but I thought I heard him groan inwardly. The man was in pain, and that was easy to see.

  I went to work with the light, searching the banks and trying to penetrate the darkness of the trees as we made our way slowly around the large body of water. If I’d ever seen a more foreboding patch of swamplands, I couldn’t remember it. The place smelled of death, but was alive with activity. When the light occasionally reflected off the water, I noticed countless pairs of red eyes staring back at me. Based on the distance between the eyes, I knew the alligators were huge and I wondered if we were safe even in this sizeable boat.

  We were searching the left side of the lake first, and Gary had moved to the port side to help with the search. I was happy to have an extra set of eyes, but he was leaning far over the edge of the boat in an attempt to get a better vantage point. Melvin noticed first and issued a stern warning, telling him the alligators could jump up and pluck him right out of the boat. Gary didn’t seem to care, and he didn’t heed the warning. I’d seen an alligator do exactly what Melvin had described and I was about to recount that experience when the boat suddenly shifted toward the right.

  “Whoa,” I called, grabbing onto a nearby railing to keep from losing my balance. I shot a quick glance at Gary. He had spilled onto the floor and was just scrambling back to his feet. Melvin mumbled an apology and then told me to swing the light toward the middle of the lake. I did as instructed and sucked in my breath. Off in the distance, there was a shadow of a boat rising up from out of the water.

  “That’s them!” Gary said. “Leroy! Kaitlin! Kids, it’s me, your dad!”

  Melvin gunned the engine and made for the middle of the lake. There was a minefield of red eyes before us, but they began disappearing as the Boston Whaler roared toward the boat. It appeared to be a small aluminum hull flatboat, but I couldn’t be sure from that distance.

  Gary continued to scream out the names of his kids, but his voice was lost against the roaring of the motors. The front of the boat rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and each time it fell a stream of water rose upward and rained down on us. It was hard to keep the light on the boat. On one of the downward motions of the Whaler, the light came to bear fully on the flatboat and my heart dropped when I saw it was obviously empty.

  Dread filled every fiber of my being when we drew even closer and I realized the boat had taken on water and was barely staying afloat. I shined the light around the area and spotted two life vests and an ice chest several yards from the boat. I groaned inwardly, all hope seeping from my pores. I turned the light back to the boat, trying to figure out what had happened. I couldn’t detect any damage to the outer edges of the boat, but there did seem to be a gaping hole in the hull, just ahead of the middle bench seat. I frowned, wondering how in the hell that could’ve happened—

  “Oh, God, where are my kids?” Gary wailed, sinking to his knees. He lifted his head and bellowed mournfully, “Leroy! Kaitlin! Where are you?”

  His voice echoed eerily across the surface of the lake. The desperation in his voice was evident. Melvin had shut off the engine and was sitting slumped in his seat, staring down at Gary. The distraught father buried his face in his hands and began to cry hysterically.

  CHAPTER 8

  I don’t know how long Melvin and I sat there watching Gary Shelton cry. Although it felt like hours, I knew it could’ve only been minutes.

  The mosquitoes were eating us alive now. I wasn’t a mosquito expert, but based on personal observation, it seemed to me that their communications system was far superior to any that had ever been invented. While our systems had limitations, theirs did not. I could be standing in one spot for a few minutes without being bothered, and then I’d get bitten by one mosquito. All of a sudden, there would be legions of them ascending down upon me, intent on draining me of every red drop of engine oil. My only explanation was that the first mosquito would radio its comrades to reveal my location and to let them know I was vulnerable—and their radios worked everywhere, even out here in the swampy wilderness.

  Although wave after wave of the tiny vampires were attacking us, none of us bothered fighting them off. I was stunned by what we’d found. To lose four young adults in one boating incident was heart-wrenching. Had we not spotted the life vests, an argument could be made that they might have survived and were still floating on the lake, waiting to be rescued—that is, if the alligators hadn’t gotten to them. But since the life vests were floating around like wreckage, their chances of survival were s
lim.

  I finally moved to Gary’s side and touched him on the shoulder. “Don’t give up on your kids,” I said softly. “We’ll keep looking until we find them. Come on—get up and help me search for them. Let’s hope for the best.”

  He was trembling, but he nodded slowly and I helped him to his feet. Without saying a word, Melvin fired up the engine and began making ever-widening circles around the sinking boat. With Gary by my side, I moved the light smoothly over the surface of the lake, studying every ripple in the water and every protruding object I saw. Turtles, alligators, and snakes were abundant, but there was no sign of human life on the water. We had ventured about a hundred yards from the boat when we found another life vest. I used a paddle to pull it close to the boat. Being careful not to get my arm bit off, I quickly snatched it from the water and examined it.

  “It hasn’t been used,” Melvin said. “It’s still got the sales tag on it.”

  He was right. The tag was on it and the straps were still folded up neatly as though it had just been taken off the store shelf.

  “They didn’t even have a chance to get their vests on,” I muttered to no one in particular. “What in the hell could’ve taken them so suddenly?”

  My mind was replaying the damage I’d observed in the boat, and I was wondering if an alligator could’ve caused that type of damage. It was possible they were driving fast and hit a large underwater timber. That type of collision could possibly cause a rip in the hull, but wouldn’t it throw the students around in the boat? If so, I would have expected to see blood somewhere on the boat. That kind of jolt would surely produce some minor injuries, maybe even some severe, and with those injuries would come blood. I had run the light over every inch of the boat and didn’t see a single sign of blood or injury.