by Jana DeLeon
Sheriff Berenger leaned forward in his wheelchair and looked intently at Richard. "Lemme ask you something, and I want an honest answer. Do you think my daughter is stupid?"
Richard blinked in surprise. This wasn't what he had expected at all, and he had to think for a moment to find a politically correct answer, especially since Dorie was armed and sitting only eight feet away. "No, sir," he finally said. "From what I've seen, she seems very qualified to handle the town!”
Dorie snorted. "Ha."
"I see," the sheriff muttered, and Richard knew that neither of them was in the least bit fooled by the duplicity of his reply.
"Qualified to handle Gator Bait, but not anything outside of the town, right?" the sheriff continued. "You think we're all a bunch of small-town hicks, capable of competence only in our own neck of the woods."
Sheriff Berenger glanced over at Dorie, who shot him an I-told-you-so look. The sheriff blew out a breath and sat back in his wheelchair, apparently in deep thought.
I’m not trying to insult anyone," Richard said finally, trying to smooth things over. "But yes, I do feel Dorie may not be the most qualified person to assist in an arrest on this particular crime. It's a very complicated case."
"Uh-huh," the sheriff said. "So if the local law is so ‘unqualified’ as you say, why doesn't your department send in more men?" He gave Richard a keen look, and Richard was certain he already knew the answer to that question.
Richard blew out a breath. "My boss feels that too many agents in such a small place would draw attention to our investigation and cause our target to flee."
"And he's right," the sheriff said. He looked over at Dorie and back at Richard. "Seems to me that the two of you have a problem. You're stuck with each other until this man is caught or out of Gator Bait. That seems to be the directive from both your superiors." He gave Dorie a hard look and she dropped her eyes to the floor.
"But," the sheriff continued, "I would never ask an officer under my command to go in blind. That goes double for my daughter. I saw enough of what happens when you go in unprepared during 'Nam." He pointed at Richard. "You better figure out a way to loosen your lips. At least enough for Dorie and Joe to feel safe helping you."
Richard thought for a moment about the time and money the agency had invested in capturing Roland. Don't hold your breath. "I'll see what I can do," he said.
Dorie shot him a look that said she wasn't buying a word of it, and Richard decided it was time to leave. He'd been reading people long enough to know when he could push them around. Sheriff Berenger may as well have been a brick wall. The fact that Dorie was his daughter made the situation that much worse. He wasn't likely to give at all on his direction, and Richard knew he was fast running out of options where catching Roland was concerned.
He rose from the couch and extended his hand to the sheriff, who gave him a bone-crushing handshake as he cast a final glance at the glassy-eyed monster over the fireplace.
"She's a beautiful specimen, isn't she?" the sheriff asked.
For a moment Richard thought the sheriff was talking about Dorie. Then he realized the man was looking at the alligator head. "Yes. She's a beauty," Richard replied, unsure what to say exactly about the head of a dead animal serving as decoration. "Did you shoot it?"
Dorie laughed and the sheriff gave Richard a withering look. “Wouldn't have been much sport in that, would there?"
Afraid to ask how he managed the monster's death without use of a firearm, Richard decided it was time to make his exit. "Thank you for your time," he said. "I'll see what I can do about getting a release for information."
Sheriff Berenger nodded. "Do that, and I promise, you won't regret it.” He looked out the apartment window, a faraway expression on his face. "I always try to help with the law." He looked back at Richard. "It never leaves a person, you know, even if the person has to leave the law."
Richard gave the sheriff a nod and left the room, more frustrated than ever about Gator Bait and Dorie Berenger.
Dorie watched Richard's retreating figure until the front door had closed behind him before she turned to her dad. "He'll never get clearance to give me information and you know that. What are you trying to accomplish?"
Sheriff Berenger laughed. "Maybe I just like seeing you squirm a bit."
"Please." Dorie gave him a disgusted look. "Like I find Dick threatening. He's about as dangerous as a seagull."
The sheriff shook his head. "Dick may well be the only man on earth brave enough to stand up to you."
Dorie rose from the couch and leaned over to kiss her dad on the forehead. "Don't confuse being foolish with being brave," she said and left the apartment, certain that her dad had only succeeded in aggravating an already impossible situation.
Richard decided the ride back to Gator Bait was as entertaining as a funeral. It was as if everyone in the truck had taken a vow of silence, all of them determined not to be the first one to speak. Dorie stared out of the passenger window, her back turned slightly to him, but it hardly mattered to Richard, who wasn't feeling especially talkative after his less-than-stellar run-in with the sheriff.
The only one who didn't seem bothered by the almost offensive silence was Joe, but Richard had gotten the impression early on that the less he spoke around Joe, the happier the man would be. Which was yet another thing that troubled him. Joe seemed to resent his presence only because he believed it caused Dorie problems. And since most everyone in town kept throwing Jenny in Joe's face, he figured it wasn't jealousy that made the other man mad.
Richard sighed. Too many mysteries. Who would have believed such a small place could have so much angst? And he'd thought big cities had issues. He shook his head and focused on his conversation with the sheriff. Better to stick with what he knew. Sordid small-town relationships were beyond his scope.
Finally, Joe parked in front of the sheriff’s office. Dorie jumped out of the truck and announced over her shoulder that she needed a part for her boat and would be in the office in a minute. Without even a backward glance, she headed across the street to the boat shop.
Richard took one look at her retreating figure and sighed. Getting answers from Dorie was not going to be easy. And despite her father's edict that she was required to help, he didn't think she would make it pleasant for either of them.
He turned around and looked at Joe, who was checking the air pressure in his tires. "What did Sheriff Berenger do in Vietnam?" Richard asked, curious about the man and the rare medal that hung on his wall.
"Sniper," Joe replied, still leaned over, studying the tire.
Richard blew out a breath. That certainly explained his comment about shooting the alligator, and gave a whole new meaning to the collection of weaponry hanging on his wall. It also gave him a lot more incentive to tread lightly where Dorie was concerned. "How long has he been like that?" Richard asked, wondering briefly if the chair made the man less dangerous or simply frustrated him, making him more dangerous.
“In a wheelchair, you mean?" Joe straightened up and put the tire gauge in his jeans pocket. "I guess it would be about ten years or so, maybe closer to eleven. Heart problems left him partially paralyzed."
"Ten or eleven years?" Richard asked, surprised. "Why is he still sheriff? He can't possibly perform the job."
Joe studied him for a minute before answering. "People around here still elect him because they know Dorie will be here to do the job. Places like he's staying aren't cheap. He needs to draw the salary."
"What about Dorie's mother? Does she help at all?"
Joe stiffened and a sudden chill settled over them. "Dorie doesn't have a mother, and no one in Gator Bait speaks about it, least of all to Dorie. You'll do yourself a big favor to do the same." Joe turned and walked into the sheriff's office, the door swinging shut behind him.
Richard looked at the man through the plate glass window, then back across the street at the boat shop. That woman was quickly becoming one of the most interesting people he had
ever come across. And not necessarily in a good way.
Deciding he had inflamed and irritated enough people for the morning, Richard headed across the street to the motel. He needed to get permission to release some information to Dorie, and he already dreaded calling his boss.
Dorie took her time at the boat shop, silently daring Richard to interrupt her. But when seconds turned into minutes and he didn't stalk through the door demanding her attention, she grew bored with the boat-shop chatter, paid for her part, and crossed the street to the sheriff's office.
Joe was sitting at his desk when she came in, typing up a form. "Where the hell is Dick?" she asked.
Joe shrugged, never lifting his eyes from the typewriter. "Guess he had something else to do."
"Did he say that?"
"No. But he didn't follow me in here, so I figure he had something else to do."
Dorie shook her head in exasperation. "Joe, did any part of this morning's fiasco bother you at all?"
He looked up from the typewriter and considered her question for a moment. "Guess not." He turned back to the typewriter.
"And why the hell not?" What was wrong with the man? Did he like being insulted and bossed by Dick?
He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair, finally understanding that he was not going to be allowed to finish his report until this conversation was over. "It was a waste of time, really. I figure the sheriff set him straight, or you straight, or quite possibly, the both of you."
Dorie bristled. "I did not need to be set straight. I'm fully aware of my responsibilities. But I notice you didn't feel the need to stick around."
"No point. The sheriff didn't need my help, and besides, Dick's problem is with you."
"I give up," she said and grabbed her boat keys off the desk. "I'll be out in the marsh. Hopefully, dying of exposure. If Mr. Condescending shows up, you tell him I have a job to do, and it doesn't include waiting around on him." She stalked out of the sheriff's office, slamming the door behind her.
Joe leaned back in his chair and smiled. Dorie was more than a little irritated by Big City, not that he blamed her. The man seemed to create aggravation almost instantly. But the interesting part of it all was if they took a moment to consider the situation from the outside, they'd see how much alike they were. Two more bullheaded people had never been made, and when they collided, the sparks were going to fly.
Smiling, he started filing his paperwork, happy in the knowledge he already held a front-row seat to the show of the century. Dorie Berenger was going down for the count. He would bet money on it. And she was taking Big City with her.
If she didn't kill him first.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was almost quitting time and Richard still hadn't made it back to the sheriff's office. Dorie was back at her desk, pretending to type up a report while sneaking looks at her watch every couple of minutes. The sneaking part was necessary because she was afraid Joe was on to her. The last thing she needed was Joe knowing she was waiting on Big City. Weakness was not one of her options. And even being nosy counted as weakness in her book.
At five o'clock on the dot, Joe rose from his chair, rinsed his coffee mug and grabbed his keys from his desk. He looked at Dorie. "You coming?"
"No, not quite yet. I think I'll finish up this report first so I don't have it for tomorrow," she answered, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Uh-huh," Joe said and walked toward the door. "Give that report my best when he shows up," he said and walked out of the office.
"Damn," Dorie said out loud.
This whole situation had the potential to be very embarrassing. And it was a completely new experience. She had never met a man that made her want to shoot him and rip his clothes off at the same time. Dorie was used to men who were reverent of her and perhaps even a little afraid. Certainly no man in Gator Bait but her dad would even think of demanding things from Dorie.
Until Richard.
She'd apparently met her match and didn't like how it made her feel. Kill him or sleep with him? One or the other would have been fine. Wanting to do both at the same time was downright troubling. Especially considering the man in question.
She shook her head in dismay. Why in the world was she even remotely attracted to a man who considered her an idiot? Not that Richard wasn't attractive - in an uptight, preppy sort of way. Even the starched clothes couldn't disguise the muscular build and stocky-frame- beneath them.
Sighing, she leaned back from her desk. Of course, attraction was attraction and a completely separate issue from respect or love. Maybe it had just been too long since she'd scratched that itch. Of course, she didn't know a single man in Gator Bait worth the scratching time and since she rarely left town except to visit her dad, her options of other men were severely limited.
It was probably like dehydration. She'd just run so short on men for such a long time, the first one who came along not missing a limb or most of his teeth started to look attractive.
I've got to start getting out more," she said out loud.
"What for?" The voice made her jump. She looked up and saw Richard standing just inside the doorway. She hadn't even heard him come in. Some detective.
"Into the game preserve," she said quickly. "I need to get out into the game preserve a little more. We might need to thin the alligator population. I wouldn't know except by spending time there."
Richard nodded and sat on the desk across from Dorie. "Look," he said, "I know we didn't get off to a great start. You weren't exactly what I was expecting, but that problem is mine, not yours."
"At least we agree on something," Dorie shot back before she could control her tongue.
Richard blew out a breath. "I spent the afternoon trying to get a special clearance for you so I could give you classified information."
Dorie sat up straight in her chair and stared at Richard in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah. I didn't want to ask, but after giving the entire matter a lot of thought, I can't really blame you for your position. I would never walk into a situation like this without the facts, no matter who said it was okay. I can hardly ask you to do something I wouldn't feel comfortable with myself."
"So did you get the clearance?"
Richard shook his head, clearly frustrated. "No. The agency has been hot on this case too long, and my superiors are paranoid of losing our man now that we're so close."
Dorie shook her head in disgust. "Then we're right back where we started. I still can't help you track a ghost. And don't bother to tell me the sheriff said I have to. I could have told you that was a waste of time."
Richard put one hand up in protest. "I know. I know. And that's why I've decided to give you some information, despite my agency's ruling on the matter. Realize, of course, that if anyone finds out I gave you this information, it would mean my job."
Even though his words made sense, Dorie still wondered about his shift in attitude. Always suspicious, she couldn't quite put her finger on what caused the change. And it bothered her. "Is it worth the risk?" she probed, trying to find the answer to her question. "Why not just ask for reassignment?"
His face grew hard and his lips tense. "Reassignment is not an option. This is my take-down. Period. I have my reasons and they're not open for discussion."
Interesting, but not exactly the detail she was looking for. "Fine. I won't repeat anything you tell me in confidence, unless Joe is pulled into this, too. Then he has a right to the same information I do. That also goes for the sheriff. And I can vouch for both of them."
Richard looked closely at her, but she steadily met his gaze. Apparently satisfied, he began his story. "The man I'm looking for is Shawn Roland. He's a deal-maker for the Hebert family out of New Orleans. The Heberts are the main suppliers of heroin for the New England area. They don't distribute, of course, just deliver. The New England families take care of distribution."
"So you want to cut off the supply chain because that's more efficient than busting every dr
ug dealer in New England? Makes sense."
"Exactly. Since we knew Roland was connected with the Hebert family, we concentrated our investigation on New Orleans, thinking the drugs were coming in through the port at the mouth of the Mississippi."
"But you didn't find anything?"
Richard shook his head. "Not a thing. But we still felt the drugs were coming into the country through the Gulf of Mexico. We've been systematically checking all of the towns along the Gulf Coast. We just hadn't made it this far."
"Then I ran the print."
Richard nodded.
Dorie stared at him for a moment. Something wasn't right. He hadn't told her everything, not that she'd expected him to. But she had the feeling there was something major missing from his explanation. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the man in front of her, but he avoided looking directly at her. "How long have you been chasing this Roland?"
She saw his face flush slightly and knew she'd finally hit a nerve. This was one of the questions he'd been hoping she wouldn't ask. "Dick?" she asked again. "How long?"
"Eight years," he said between clenched teeth.
He still hadn't met her gaze, and she knew there was more to the story. "And before you?" She pushed harder. "How long has the agency been looking for this man?"
He stared at the floor and mumbled something she couldn't quite make out.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Thirty-four years," he said with a sigh. "The agency has been trying to catch Shawn Roland for thirty-four years."
"Jesus Christ, Dick!" Dorie shouted and jumped up from her chair. "That's longer than either one of us has been alive. And you people are supposed to be the best? Good God."
Richard's facial features tightened. "The best men at the agency have been on this case. Unfortunately, Roland is superior at his job. He has no family, no friends and the only picture we have of him is from sixth grade, the last year he attended school."
Dorie stopped pacing and stared at him. "Tell me more," she said, her curiosity piqued by this master criminal.