by Jana DeLeon
"He's going to be fine," Dorie replied. "Jenny will let us know if there's any change, or if he says anything else once he's awake. I lied and said she was family so she could get into his room."
Richard gave her a small smile. "Not really much of a lie."
"No, not much," she said, his words making her feel a bit better.
He pointed to the printer where photos were spitting out. "Your timing is great," he said. "I just sent all the photos to print. We have a total of twelve, covering from Gator Bait all the way to the next town, in every direction, and the gulf."
"I'll get the preserve maps," Joe said and stepped into the back office, returning a minute later with a thick set of rolled documents. Richard grabbed the printouts, Joe unrolled the maps, and they all hunched over the desk to look.
The first ten photos were fine, nothing out of place, and Dorie grew more anxious each time Richard turned to another photo. We can't be wrong about this. We just can't be.
Richard shook his head and continued to flip through the pictures. "Whoa," he said. "What is that?" He pointed to an area on the photo that contained a cluster of black dots. "Is there anything solid in this section that you are aware of?"
Dorie scanned her preserve maps for the coordinates and pointed to the matching area. She looked at Joe and saw that he understood immediately what she was pointing to. Looking back at the photo, she pointed to the white spots that outnumbered the black spots ten times over. "There's not supposed to be anything solid in that area of the preserve, unless you want to count all of those white spots."
Richard looked at the photo again and frowned. "There must be at least a hundred white spots on here. What the hell is this place?"
“Breeding ground," Joe said. "That's where the alligators go to lay their eggs."
Richard stared at the two of them in horror. "Breeding ground. You've got to be kidding me." But the look on their faces told him they weren't kidding at all. "But that's crazy," he protested.
"It's more than crazy," Joe said. "It's suicide. Someone must have made a mistake with the drop. We may not have to worry about this Roland if he tries to pick up his shipment in this location. Of course, we'll never find evidence of his death, either, which might be a problem."
"That's not even the beginning of the problems," Dorie said, her voice beginning to rise. "What about the possibility of hundreds of high gators if someone doesn't get those drugs out of the marsh? Jesus Christ!"
"Holy crap," Joe said. "We can't have this, Dorie. There's no telling what those gators are capable of if they haul any of these bags out of the preserve and bite into one."
"I know," she said and looked at Richard. "No one understands more than I do how much you want to catch Roland, and believe me, I want to catch him, too, but I have to get those drugs out of the game preserve right now, even if it means we blow our chance."
Richard nodded. "I understand. And as much as I hate it, I agree. This entire town would be at risk. I want Roland, but that's one risk even I am not willing to take." He blew out a breath and slammed one fist down on the desk. "Damn it! I was so close this time."
Dorie placed her hand on his arm. "We'll get him. I'll help you, even if it means leaving Gator Bait. This is one part of my past that I want shut away permanently."
Richard looked at her, surprised, but then took a moment to think about her words. Dorie had as much of a stake in Roland's capture as he did. Roland didn't leave loose ends, and he would consider both Berengers a liability. The real irony was Dorie was trying to capture her father to protect her dad.
The weight of that fact grew heavy in Richard's mind. He should never have agreed to keep the sheriff's secret. The way things stood now, it might be awhile before the sheriff could live up to his end of their bargain and tell Dorie the truth. Dorie was never going to forgive him for withholding this, and there was no way he could blame her.
"What about the town?" he finally managed to ask. "If you leave, who'll take care of everyone?"
"Joe can take care of Gator Bait," she replied. "He's been standing in my shadow long enough."
Joe raised his hands to protest. "Dorie, you know that's not true. I've never had cause to complain about my station. I'm happy working here with you, and I don't want you to leave. You've got to know that."
"I do know that, Joe," she said softly. "And that's why you're going to make a great sheriff"
Joe rapidly shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm not running against your dad. I can't do that, no matter what you say."
Dorie reached into her desk and pulled a small revolver from the drawer. She bent over and pulled her jeans up over her ankle. "My dad won't be running again," she said. "He hasn't earned that right."
Joe was silent, and Richard could see the conflict racing through the man's face. Shawn Roland had caused so much trouble in this town. And to good people. It made Richard angry all over again to think about it.
"What do you need me to do now?" Joe finally asked.
"Check around town," Dorie said as she secured the holster around her leg. "I'd still like to find the transport vehicle. It might get us information we can use to locate Roland later on. Make sure you keep your radio on you at all times. And take the keys to the other airboat with you. If we get into a bind, I'll need backup."
Joe nodded, his expression grim.
"And go to scramble on the radio, or we'll have everyone in Gator Bait listening in on their scanners. We don't need any amateur help on this one." She straightened up, checked the gun at her waist, and looked at Richard. "Are you ready to do this?" she asked.
Richard took one last look at the photo on the desk, the white spots whirling through his mind like a disco. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
Dorie nodded. "Then that will have to do."
As soon as they left, Joe gave Jenny a call at the hospital, and learned that the sheriff was still in recovery and hadn't yet been moved to a room. He brought Jenny up to date on the situation and asked her to make any calls directly to him and only in the case of an emergency. There was no telling what kind of situation Dorie and Richard might get into, and Joe needed to keep all channels of communication clear.
Jenny promised to limit her calls to drastic changes only and said she was headed straight to the hospital chapel to start praying. Joe hung up the phone and stared at the church across the street.
Aside from his earlier investigating with Dorie, he hadn't set foot inside since his father had passed, but Jenny's words had touched him somewhere he thought was closed. Maybe she had the right idea. Praying couldn't hurt. Determined to put his past to rest once and for all, Joe set his shoulders, strode across the street and opened the door to the church.
The elderly pastor looked up at him in surprise as he entered. "Joe. How can I help you?" he asked with a smile. "Are you planning a wedding? I sure would be happy to hear it."
Joe shook his head. "Not yet, Pastor Don, but I'm hoping to. We've got to have a date first, though."
Pastor Don nodded. "Dating is probably a good thing if one is contemplating marriage. I haven't heard of anyone trading their daughter for cattle in many years." He smiled again. "So if it's not a wedding you're wanting, then what can I help you with?"
Joe's hands started to sweat and felt sticky in the humidity. He took a look around and blew out the breath he'd been holding, trying to figure out where to begin. Pastor Don waited patiently, a friendly smile on his face. Finally, Joe found his voice. "I'm sure you heard I haven't been to church ever since my father passed. I've never had much use for organized religion, although that doesn't mean I don't believe in God."
"Of course not," Pastor Don said.
"Everyone thought my father was a great man, and there's no denying that was true for the church," Joe said. "But he didn't have much use or time for my mother or me and I guess that's why I've resented him and religion all these years."
Pastor Don nodded his understanding. "It's a hard thing for a child to reconcile that hi
s father can have so much love and time for others but not his own." He patted Joe on the hand. "When you receive a call from God, it's overwhelming. Some men never figure out how to balance their parish and their family. But rest assured, that neither God nor the religion called your father to abandon you. That was his choice, and it's something you will have to learn to accept if you expect to move forward"
Joe nodded. "I think I finally have, but it's taken a long time to get here."
“The journey is what makes us stronger. But I have a feeling that something else is bothering you."
Joe looked Pastor Don directly in the eyes."There is something else. The truth is, I'm worried about Dorie. She's had some major issues to deal with in the past week, and even Dorie is not strong enough to handle everything alone. But she won't let anyone help either."
Pastor Don nodded.
"And beyond being worried about her mental health," Joe continued, "I'm worried about her physical safety. I'm sure you've heard the talk. This guy the DEA agent is chasing has taken a couple of shots at removing Dorie from law enforcement permanently. It's only due to skill and some sheer luck that she's still alive."
Pastor Don let out a sigh, a grave look on his face. "I have indeed heard the rumors, and I'm sure that even as fantastic as they sound, they border on the truth. I know Dorie is like a sister to you and I don't blame you for worrying. The truth is, I'm worried about her also."
He knelt before Joe and extended his hand. "Would you pray with me, please?"
Joe breathed a sigh of relief at the offer and sank down onto the floor. He clasped his hand in the pastor's and bowed his head, feeling like he'd come home again.
"Dear Lord," Pastor Don began.
Dorie untied the airboat from the dock, tossed the rope in the boat, and motioned for Richard to get in. He stepped in and took a seat on one of the high chairs across the back. He'd been completely silent since leaving the sheriff's office, and he was pretty sure Dorie thought that had to do with the alligator situation.
If only that were the case.
Not that he was completely comfortable with the alligator situation. Truth be known, he was scared to death of those damn things, and his experience the day before hadn't helped his opinion. He tried to look at Dorie as she backed the boat away from the dock and started down the bayou, but couldn't meet her eyes.
No, this was about feeling guilty. Guilty that he was keeping a secret from her. A secret that never should have been.
He could feel her staring at him and knew she had to be curious about his silent state, but he looked away before she asked.
Coward. You're no better than the sheriff And what if by some miracle you run into Roland out in the marsh? What then? Are you willing to run the risk that this woman, who you care about, might kill her biological father without knowing the truth?
Because no matter the rules of law enforcement, Richard had no doubt that if they came face to face with Roland, it would be the last time. Roland would not surrender quietly.
Things had changed so rapidly Richard hadn't even had time to assess his own feelings. He was chasing a man who had killed his father, and he had already fallen for the woman who was the killer's daughter but didn't know it. And that same woman had been raised by the man who helped cover up Roland's business in Gator Bait in the first place. Did the fact that Roland had fathered Dorie have to change the way he felt about her? It shouldn't, but he wasn't positive that it didn't.
They were halfway to their destination and quickly dosing the gap, when he put one hand on Dorie's arm, unable to hold it all in any longer.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
He nodded. "There's something I have to tell you. Your dad was supposed to do this, but I guess he got other ideas about how to handle things first. And I can't let you go into this without knowing. It wouldn't be right."
She killed the engine and looked at him, a worried expression on her face. "What do I need to know? What else did my dad keep from me?"
He stared at her and hoped the first bullet she fired today wasn't at him. "It started over thirty years ago," he began.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Joe had just finished his trip out to Buster's place and was pulling back into town when he saw the truck parked in front of Pete's Bar. It was a medium-sized moving truck, not one of the eighteen-wheelers he usually saw making deliveries. He screeched to a stop in front of the sheriff's office and hurried across the street to take a closer look.
A guy was unloading crates from inside the truck and carrying them into the boat shop. Joe took a closer look at one of the boxes. Boat oil. He scanned the rest of the boxes and saw similar items. Then he remembered Pete's comment about the hotshot driver Stella had been coordinating to save them all some money. He glanced over at the bar and saw a light on inside. Maybe he'd just step across the street and have another word with Pete.
The front door of the bar was unlocked, so Joe let himself inside. He figured Pete would be in the storeroom, so he called out for him. A couple of seconds later, Pete rounded the corner from the back of the bar and gave Joe a look of surprise. "What brings you here so early, Joe? I'm glad to hear the sheriff's going to pull through. Is anything wrong?"
"Everything's wrong," Joe said, "but that's not why I'm here. I was just wondering about something. I remember you talking about the truck driver Stella found. I saw him outside, so I guess everything went through all right with that deal?"
Pete nodded. "Yeah. Today is his first delivery. Any particular reason you're wanting to know? I mean if something's wrong with the guy, I don't have a problem getting rid of him."
Joe shook his head and forced a smile, not wanting to tip his hand. "No, nothing like that. At least, not that I'm aware of. I was just wondering if it would be a good deal for Jenny to get in on." He barely managed to get the lie out and sound normal.
Pete's face cleared in understanding. "I get it. Yeah, Stella asked her about it, but Jenny wanted to wait a few runs and make sure everything worked out okay with the guy."
Joe nodded. "Makes sense. Did everything go okay that you could see?"
Pete scratched his head. "Yeah. Everything seemed all right. I mean the orders were right, and he was on time and everything."
"But?" Joe asked, certain by Pete's tone that there was a "but" buried somewhere in his reply.
Pete shuffled his feet a bit. "I don't know. I hate saying anything about a person if I don't really know anything for sure."
"Oh hell, Pete, you spend most of your days and nights in this bar talking about people. Don't give me that crap. If you've got a problem with this guy, I want to know about it.”
Pete gave him a sheepish look. "It's not exactly a problem. I just didn't like the feeling he gave me."
Joe saw a bit of red rise in Pete's face.
"Damn," Pete said, "I sound like a woman. That's just the kind of thing they always say."
Joe nodded. "Yeah, and they're usually right when they say it."
Pete considered this for a moment and nodded. "Guess that's true enough."
"So is there anything in particular you can put your finger on that bothered you?"
Pete stared at him for a moment and stroked his chin. "Well, it didn't seem like he was all that great of a driver for one. I mean, this guy is supposed to have been doing this for years, but it took him three tries before he could back into my loading dock." Pete shook his head and waved one hand. "Oh, hell, it's probably nothing. I'm probably just being stupid. So maybe the guy exaggerated a little about his experience. Lots of people are looking for jobs. He wouldn't be the first one to lie about his qualifications."
Joe stared across the bar, considering Pete's words. And Stella found this guy, right?"
Pete nodded.
"Maybe I'll talk to her. Just to put my mind at ease."
Pete shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."
Joe left the bar and walked down the street to the boat shop. The truck was parked out front, but the dri
ver was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he's inside, Joe thought, and pushed open the door.
Stella was behind the counter opening boxes and looked up at him in obvious surprise. "Joe, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be down at the hospital with Dorie."
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."