Deadly Countdown

by Margaret Daley

  “Sure.”

  As Belle left the foyer, Tom frowned. “I’m gonna call the sheriff and let him know where we’re going. We can send him a picture of the map. I don’t wanna go far into the bayou at night without someone knowing where we are.”

  “Let him know what we suspect about Adrien. Maybe a deputy can keep an eye on him.”

  Tom nodded. “When you’re ready, come outside.” He closed the door as he stepped out onto Belle’s porch.

  Belle scurried into the entryway, waving a sheet of paper. “Got it! For a sec, I thought I had thrown it out.”

  Allie took it and saw some familiar landmarks, but there were a few she didn’t know. She always stayed near Port David. Even living her whole life on the bayou, she still had a fear of snakes. She never wanted to tangle with alligators, but they didn’t creep her out. Landry used to tease her, saying she wasn’t a true Cajun. She hoped Tom could figure out where it was. “Don’t tell anyone what we’re doing, Belle.”

  “Is this about Bo’s murder?”

  “Yes, it’s connected.” She started to turn toward the exit, but Belle stopped her.

  “Sugar, don’t go and do anything that’ll get you kilt. My son would never forgive me if I didn’t watch out for you.”

  A lump in her throat, Allie hugged Belle then quickly headed for Tom’s pickup. As she slid into the passenger seat, Remy’s grandfather finished his call to the sheriff.

  “Sheriff Guice told me he found Jay.”

  “Here?”

  “Nope. In jail in Gulfport, Mississippi. He’s been there for a week.”

  “Which means he didn’t harass me or kill Bo.”

  “Yup. That leaves Adrien. Let’s get going. We’ll use my boat at my place.”

  As they drove, Allie stared into the darkness beyond her window. Out this far from town, there were few lights, and the black curtain of night mocked her.

  * * *

  Remy reached the top of the pier, his good arm clutching the wooden ledge while he drew in a deep breath. His heartbeat raced. He kept imagining the alligator swimming toward him. Occasionally it would make a sound. The gator’s silence concerned him the most.

  Then when he thought he could hoist himself onto the dock mostly one-handed, he sent a silent plea to the Lord, pushing the throbbing pain in his shoulder and left arm as far away as his mind would let him. One. Two. Three. He strained, testing the limit of his strength and energy.

  He ground his teeth and raised himself up and over—barely. His fingers digging into whatever he could, he scooted a couple of inches, his legs still dangling over the edge.

  He didn’t think he could move anymore. Laying his head on the rough wooden plank, he tried to gather at least one more burst of energy. He couldn’t. His eyes began to close and nothing he did could stop them.

  Rest. Then try later.

  A creaking sound like the door to the shack echoed in the still of night.

  Move. Get up.

  But he couldn’t.

  * * *

  Allie sat in the flatboat, thanking God for the running lights and, if needed, a spotlight to search the depths of the bayou. The farther away from Port David and the deeper into the swamp they went, she could understand why there were so many freaky stories associated with this area. The running lights only gave off so much illumination. What was beyond the black shroud?

  “We’re near Little Duck Bayou. When we turn into it, I want you to switch on the spotlight and sweep it around. I’ve been back here, and I think I saw this place once. It’s tucked back in a grove of cypress.”

  As Tom steered down the small bayou, an owl hooted, and Allie flinched at the sudden sound nearby. The dank stench of rotting vegetation assailed her nostrils. She moved to the spotlight and flipped it on. Shadows flickered about the trees as though playing some kind of nefarious game with them. Plants in the water thickened, disguising what lay beneath. Through the surrounding noise came the deep rumbles of an alligator—all familiar to Allie. But deep in the darkness of an unknown part of the swamp, her heartbeat tripled its pace. She breathed in short gasps as her imagination went wild.

  Tom cut the engine and began poling through the vegetation-laden water. Allie continued to scan the terrain around them. The farther they went with no sign of Remy, the more her chest constricted, and sweat rolled down her face.

  Then she spotted something to the left. “Tom, is that the place?” she asked, although at this distance she wasn’t sure what it was.

  “It might be. It’s hard to tell in the dark.”

  As they closed in on what Allie now deemed a shack, she searched the shadows. A lump on the dock riveted her attention. An alligator?

  But the nearer the flatboat drew to the fallen-down hut, Allie could make out a man’s body. Alive or dead? She shoved down the panic, but she couldn’t contain the fear. She could hardly breathe in the moisture-thick air.

  “He might be alive, Allie.”

  Tom’s words calmed some of the distress that she might have lost Remy. Concentrate on God. He’s in control. Her heartbeat slowed its racing, and she forced herself to take deep breaths. If he was hurt, he needed her levelheaded.

  She glanced at her cell phone. As she thought, they were out of range. Although she couldn’t make a call, her last text message was from the sheriff. Adrien Vincent is missing.

  * * *

  All he ever wanted to do was to protect her and pay her back for what she did for him. But now the police were after him. Everything was ruined. She didn’t appreciate how he had kept her from being hurt. Landry hit her. Jules pestered her everywhere she went, and Bo nearly caused her death. They deserved to die. He hadn’t wanted to kill Remy. They had been friends, but Remy was closing in on him, even if Remy didn’t know it when he shot him. He couldn’t take that chance. He had no choice but to kill Tom and take Allie with him. That was the only way he could keep her protected. She would learn to appreciate all he’d done for her.

  He hid his pirogue in the foliage and, through his night vision goggles, scoped out the dock and shack. Tom tied his flatboat to the pier and helped Allie up onto the wooden planks. He lifted his rifle and aimed it at Tom.

  * * *

  Allie rushed to where Remy lay on the pier, sprawled out on his stomach, his head turned away from her. Her gaze latched onto his bloody shirt. Her hand trembled as she reached toward him and touched his neck to see if he was alive.

  A faint pulse throbbed beneath her fingertips, and relief fluttered through her. Then she looked closely at his shirt. The lights from the boat weren’t illuminating the area well. She saw up close the bullet hole in his shoulder. Blood clotted the wound, but a little still oozed from the injury.

  “He’s alive, but I don’t know for how long. We need to get—”

  A cracking sound rang through the bayou.

  Tom disappeared from view.

  Allie threw her body between Remy and the shooter.

  “Tom?”

  “I’m okay. The bullet just grazed me.”

  Then another shot blasted the air, but this time from Tom’s gun.

  Their assailant returned fire.

  All Allie wanted to do was get Remy to safety. She glimpsed the door into the hut five feet away. Some of the planks between her and the shelter looked rotten, ready to give way any second. If they remained out here, they would be dead. They had a chance if she could get him inside. She didn’t have a choice.

  Remy was a large man and weighed almost twice what she did, but she scooted toward his head and grabbed his right arm. She began dragging him toward what little cover there was available.

  Remy moaned as Tom and the shooter exchanged another round. Only a foot from the threshold, Allie’s foot went through the plank, and she fell to the dock with her limb dangling through the hole.

  Suddenly what illumination she had vanished as Tom swung the spotlight in the direction of the assailant. Allie pulled her leg up, determined to continue tugging Remy the best
she could toward the hut.

  As she felt the planks to see which way to go, Tom stood up in the boat and aimed his rifle toward the area he’d shined the light on. He shot. A loud splash filled the bayou, followed by silence.

  Did Tom hit their attacker?

  Until she knew otherwise, she needed to get Remy hauled into the hut. She froze at a sound behind her, a gasp coming from her. They weren’t alone!

  Then she remembered her cell phone in her pant pocket and withdrew it. The glow from it illumined the back wall of the shack. A raccoon stared at her for a few seconds then scurried through a hole nearby. She nearly collapsed onto Remy with relief.

  “Allie, are you and Remy all right?”

  “Yes—at least I hope Remy is.” She felt for his pulse and sighed. “What happened?”

  The illumination from the spotlight returned to the dock and shack. “I shot Adrien. At least I think it’s him. He was wearing the same clothes from earlier at the marina.” The sound of Tom’s voice grew closer until he appeared in the doorway. “Let’s get Remy into the boat. As soon as we’re within cell reception, I’ll let the sheriff know Remy needs medical help.” He squatted down next to his grandson. “At least it looks like he isn’t bleeding anymore. Let’s turn him over and see if the bullet exited.”

  With Tom’s assistance, Allie rolled him over. The hole in his upper chest was over twice the size of the entry one. And still bleeding.

  “This isn’t good.” Tom’s voice quavered. “Let’s get him in the boat and try to stop the bleeding, or he won’t make it.”

  Heart pounding, Allie took the front end of Remy, being careful of his injury, while Tom hefted up the legs. As fast as they could, Allie made her way out onto the dock.

  Please, Lord, save him.

  She couldn’t dwell on the fact that she could lose another man she loved.

  Tom hopped down onto the flatboat while Allie struggled to maneuver Remy close enough that his grandfather could hoist Remy onto the vessel’s deck. In the distance, Allie spied lights—lots of them coming closer.

  Let it be help.

  Tom guided Remy into the boat. Then Allie climbed down, keeping her eyes on the growing illumination.

  “This is the sheriff,” came over a bullhorn, and Allie finally inhaled a decent breath into her lungs.

  * * *

  For hours, Allie sat next to Remy’s Houma hospital bed, holding his hand after his operation to repair his shoulder. He’d lost a lot of blood, but his surgery had been successful, and he should recover totally with time. He’d awakened a couple of times since being back in his room, but never for long.

  She had so much she wanted to tell him. The past day had given the town a lot of answers to lingering questions. Adrien’s body was pulled from the bayou. When the sheriff’s deputies went through his belongings at his house, they’d discovered a couple of roofies. Bo’s family would have some closure concerning his death. Photos of her similar to the ones in the collage she’d received filled a bedroom. Had he sent her the collage and not Bo? The pictures dated back to her teenage years. Other than the collage, she’d never known about this obsession until he went after Bo and Remy began his investigating. What else had Adrien done?

  Weariness descended as she tried to make sense out of all that had happened. Her eyelids began to droop. Her head dropped forward.

  A movement beneath her hand snapped her out of her drowsy limbo, and she lifted her gaze to Remy’s.

  She smiled, wanting to give him a hug, but the bandage on his shoulder was a deterrent. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better knowing you’re alive.”

  “That’s suppose to be my line. I thought he’d killed you.”

  “Who? Adrien?”

  She nodded. “Why were you out there with him?”

  “He took me to the camp where I thought Jay was.”

  Allie took his hand in both of hers. “Jay is in jail in Mississippi. Bo’s murder and going after you was all Adrien.”

  “We were friends for years. Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, but he had tons of photos of me at his house.”

  Frowning, Remy closed his eyes, and Allie thought he’d fallen asleep again. But then they popped open. “I was hoping I’d find Jay and your nightmare would be over. I guess I got part of my wish.”

  “Next time you go after a person, make sure you tell someone where you’re going.”

  “That’s just it, I didn’t know where the shack was. Adrien did. My focus was totally on bringing Jay in.”

  There was so much she wanted to say, and yet this wasn’t the best place to have a heart to heart with Remy. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had died.”

  Remy tried to sit up but collapsed back, moistening his lips. “I love you.”

  Tom swung the door to the room open and strolled in with Sheriff Guice right behind him. “How are you doing, son? You had Allie and me worried.”

  Remy turned toward his grandfather and the sheriff. “Okay.”

  “Do you have some time to answer a few questions?” Sheriff Guice asked.

  “If I can.”

  Allie stood and offered her chair to Tom, who had been up as long as she had. Tired lines deepened the wrinkles on his face.

  “I’m going to get coffee. Does anyone else want some?”

  While the sheriff shook his head, Tom said, “No.”

  Out in the hallway, Allie leaned back against the wall near Remy’s room. What should she tell Remy about her feelings? He’d want more if he knew she loved him, but after what happened in the bayou, how could she take the constant fear of this kind of drama in Remy’s life in law enforcement?

  * * *

  Sitting on the back gallery that faced the bayou, Remy relaxed in the lounge chair. He had been recovering at Papere’s house the past four days. He’d seen Allie, and they had talked, but only with others around as if she were avoiding being alone with him.

  She’d come back into the hospital room last week when the sheriff was interviewing him about what went down at the camp. Sheriff Guice had informed them they’d found lots of audiotapes made by Adrien, who had packed them in his truck, most likely preparing to leave Port David. The technology had changed in the twelve years of his account of guarding and protecting Allie, but the reason for doing that hadn’t. She’d saved Adrien from drowning when they were fourteen. He jumped into the bayou and hit his head on a log. Since that day, he’d followed and kept an eye on her. His obsession of her had turned more possessive over time.

  Later as the sheriff and his deputies listened to all of the recordings, Remy discovered Adrien had killed Landry for hitting Allie, Jules for continually harassing her, and Bo for drugging her. There was no account of why he went after him, but Remy had surmised Adrien knew Remy wouldn’t rest until he found the person who murdered Bo. In that case, Adrien was right. Remy had no intentions of returning to Dallas until Allie was safe and Bo’s murderer captured.

  Over the past days, Remy had seen the pain Allie had to deal with again when all the facts about Landry and his death came out. All he wanted to do was wipe that pain away and be there for her—if she would let him.

  The back door opened, and Allie came out onto the porch. She grinned and brought him a plate of cookies. “Aunt Evelina figured you were getting tired of Tom’s cooking and would like something sweet.” She sat next to him in the other lounge chair with a small table between them.

  He snatched one of the chewy sweet treats from the plate and sank his teeth into it. “Mmm.” When he finished with one, he took another. “Tell her these are delicious. I love pecan praline cookies. Papere is a great cook, but he can’t bake like this.”

  Allie sank against the back cushion and released a long breath. “I’m so glad life is getting back to normal.”

  “So am I. I’m supposed to return to Dallas after the doctor releases me from his care down here.”

  She slid him a look, her hands tigh
tening on the arms of the chair. “Are you looking forward to getting back to work?”

  “The truth?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes, of course.”

  “No. I’ll return to Dallas to clear out my apartment, but Paul came to visit me this morning about a job as the harbormaster, taking Adrien’s place. Following in Papere’s shoes.”

  She sat forward and swung her legs over the side so she could face him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of staying?”

  “I wasn’t sure I would, but the longer I’m here, the more I want to return. Sheriff Guice said I could come back as a deputy anytime I wanted. So I have a job one way or another. The question I’m asking you is which one should I accept.”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to influence your choice.”

  “I want you to influence my choice.” He straightened and took her hands. “I love you. I want you in my life.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “I love you, Remy, but you won’t like my choice. I can’t have you resenting my pick if you aren’t happy.”

  “Fair.” He drew her closer. “I already told Paul I would take the job. I need a quieter life if I’m going to marry and have a family.”

  She tried to tug her hands loose, but he held them. “If you want to be a deputy, I’ll figure out a way to deal with it. I’ll even go to Dallas with you if that’s what you really want.” She stared down then lifted her gaze and reconnected with Remy’s. “I don’t want any regrets.”

  He smiled. “I know, but this is my decision. I still have to ‘police’ the boats and the marina, but I’ll have time for you and I hope our children. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!”

  He leaned toward her and kissed her. “Good. I want to marry after Labor Day when things start to quiet down a little at the marina.”