Gator Bait (26 page)

“Oh my God!” I said.

“My worst nightmare,” Ida Belle said.

“It’s the rise of the Antichrist,” Gertie said.

“Well, the Antichrist just mooned all the customers in Walter’s store.” I told them about the dogs hitting Celia with the side of hog, and Gertie laughed so hard she literally sat down and rolled onto her side, heaving with laughter.
 

“Serves her right,” Gertie said when she came up for air. “It was all her fault half of Sinful saw me in my skivvies. If they’d all seen her giant white underwear before the election, they might not have voted for her.”

“Call Marie,” Ida Belle said. “I haven’t heard from her, and that makes me think something is up.”

Gertie dialed Marie, who must have started talking the instant she answered the phone because all Gertie managed was nodding and the occasional “uh-huh.” But I could tell by her expression that whatever Marie was saying wasn’t good. Finally Gertie disconnected the call and looked up at Ida Belle.

“We got trouble,” Gertie said. “Marie’s pissed.”

I stared. “What does that look like exactly?” I’d seen Marie scared, anxious, worried, and upset, but I had no idea what outright pissed entailed.

“It’s not pretty,” Ida Belle said. “What’s up?”

“Sarah Gunderson said Wilma Tillery voted for Celia.”

Ida Belle’s eyes widened and she made a hissing sound.

“What did I miss?” I asked.

“Sarah Gunderson is a Sinful Lady,” Gertie said. “Also one of the vote counters. There are representatives from each side—to keep things on the up-and-up. Wilma Tillery died six years ago, so Sinful has it own election episode of
The Walking Dead
going on. It looks like someone stuffed the ballots.”

“What can you do about it?” I asked.

“Marie is already filing a motion for an audit,” Gertie said.

“But until then,” Ida Belle said, “we’re screwed.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Gertie shot me a worried look. “I mean that this was an emergency election, so until that vote is recounted, Celia is mayor of Sinful. Which means Carter’s job is on the line.”

“One situation at a time,” Ida Belle said. “Let’s make sure no one is going to try to kill Carter again and then we’ll worry about his continued employment. Fortune, we’re almost to the mouth of the lake. Head to the front of the boat and use the binoculars to scan the bank. The cabins near the bank aren’t our mark. They’re too visible. If he’s got a hiding place, it’s going to be back some from the bank and hidden in an area with thick foliage and trees.”

“So I’m looking for a point of egress,” I said, “not the structure itself.”

“Exactly, and it’s not going to be easy to spot. Hank will cover his tracks.”
 

Ida Belle pulled the boat over as close to the bank as she could and cut the engine speed to a bare minimum. She motioned for Gertie to hand her a fishing pole and cast the line in the water off the back of the boat. Gertie pulled a mangled straw hat out of her purse and plopped it on her head. Between the awful hat and her wet clothes hanging on her, she looked like a pitiful scarecrow.
 

I pulled the binoculars and a scope out of the duffel bag and opened a porthole on the front of the boat. It was easy to discard most of the bank as it consisted of mostly tall reeds, and there’s no way a boat could have docked there without leaving a trail. I scanned ahead and saw a long stretch of reeds ahead of us that slowly turned to muddy bank after about fifty yards. I was about to lower the binoculars until we reached the mud when I caught a glint of light about two hundred yards away.

I lifted the scope and zeroed in on the object creating the glare. It was a shrimp boat.

Lucas Riley’s shrimp boat.

“Ida Belle,” I called.

She ducked her head in and I motioned for her to come over. “About two hundred yards ahead and to the left. That’s Lucas Riley’s shrimp boat.”

Ida Belle peered through the scope. “He’s coming straight at us.” She hurried out of the cabin, pulled on a ball cap and cut the engine to the boat. “Get ready,” she told Gertie as she picked up her fishing pole. “Lucas Riley is going to pass us in about thirty seconds.”

I closed the porthole and ducked down below the line of circular windows. Someone peering out of a porthole might look a little odd. It was best that Lucas only register two old ladies fishing. I heard the engine approaching and was happy that he seemed to be moving fairly fast. He probably wouldn’t give our boat a second glance. I watched out the cabin door as he approached and saw Ida Belle and Gertie lift a hand in the air as he passed about twenty yards away from us. I saw his arm go up in the air, but he didn’t even bother to turn his head.

Ida Belle watched until he rounded the bend, then dropped her pole and jumped over to the steering column to start the boat. “Let’s see if we can figure out where he came from,” she said.

As she took off across the lake, I popped the hatch on the top of the cabin and poked my head up with the scope. I scanned the surface of the lake, looking for the ripples left from the wake from Lucas’s boat. As we neared an inlet, the ripples dissipated. I hurried to the back of the boat and pointed out the channel to Ida Belle.
 

“I think he came out there,” I said.

Ida Belle cut the engine speed and directed the boat into the smaller channel.
 

“Do you know where this goes?”

Ida Belle shook her head. “There’s hundreds, maybe thousands, of channels like these off the lake. They sometimes shift with time.”

I watched as the channel grew narrower, until it was probably only forty feet across. Trees started to sprout up along the bank, replacing the tall reeds and marsh grass. In some places, cypress roots created banks, pushing the land above the channel by a couple of feet. I climbed onto the seat across from Ida Belle and lifted the binoculars, alternating my scan of both sides of the bank.
 

“Wait!” I said and jumped off the seat to grab Ida Belle’s arm. “I think I saw something.”

Ida Belle cut the boat engine off and I grabbed the cypress roots to stop our progress. “Look there,” I said and pointed to a section of roots about ten feet behind us. “There’s a piece of rope tied to that big root on top.”

Ida Belle leaned over the back of the boat and looked where I was pointing. “Looks like someone tied off there and the rope broke.”

“The break’s recent,” I said. “The ends of the rope haven’t frayed enough for it to have been that way long.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Gertie asked. “Let’s check it out.”

I looked at Ida Belle. “What do you think? Is this the hiding place or the drop-off location?”

Ida Belle studied the area and frowned. “I’m more inclined to say hiding place. This channel is shallow. When the tide goes out, a larger boat wouldn’t be able to travel down this without hitting bottom. I don’t think they’d choose a drop location that was cut off every time the tide went out.”

I pulled my Glock out of my waistband and checked the magazine. “I think we should assume that if Hank is hiding here, he’s well armed.”

“We’re not going to walk up and sell him Girl Scout Cookies,” Ida Belle said. “We just need to get close enough to verify he’s there and then we get the hell out of here and call Riker. This is no time for any of us to play the hero. Our necks are already stuck out enough.”

I nodded, relieved that Ida Belle and I were in agreement on how this should play out. We could not afford a showdown in the middle of the swamp, especially one that was smack-dab in the middle of ATF business. Besides which, we were neither qualified nor sufficiently equipped to come up against an arms dealer’s security unit. If the supplier had gotten wind of problems and dispatched more personnel to Sinful, they would be as skilled as me and there would be more of them.

“What if Lucas comes back?” Gertie asked.

“Already thought about that,” I said. “As soon as Ida Belle and I take off, I want you to move the boat down the channel around that bend. Take point on the bank behind the foliage and watch for anyone approaching. Make sure the boat is far enough around the bend that it can’t be seen from this channel, and turn it around so you’re ready to haul butt this direction to pick us up.”

“We’ve got no cell service out here,” Gertie said. “How do I signal you?”

“Worse case, if Lucas returns, wait until he enters the swamp and shoot a flare. We’ll keep a watch for one. Same thing on our end. If we need a quick evacuation, we’ll fire a flare and you get to this bank as fast as possible.”

“Got it,” Gertie said.

I jumped out of the boat and onto the bank, Ida Belle close behind. As we stepped onto a path in the swamp, Ida Belle turned around and looked at Gertie. “Now might be a good time to start praying Lucas doesn’t return.”

Gertie nodded and started the boat. Ida Belle and I slipped into the swamp, and the boat disappeared from our sight. The path was narrow and rarely traveled. In fact, only someone adept at tracking would have noticed it at all.

“Someone’s been down this recently,” Ida Belle said.
 

“You’ve got good eyes.”

“I’ve done my share of hunting…here and in Vietnam. You think they have any kind of security out here?”

“Unless they’re running a generator, they wouldn’t have the power for cameras. Sound from a generator would carry for miles out here, and I haven’t heard anything.”

“What about trip wires…you know, military sort of stuff.”

“It’s certainly possible, and for the drop site, I’d say more likely, but if this is only a hideout, then I don’t know that much security is necessary. You’d only have one person out there and the hideout was probably constructed with a view from every side. With good visibility of anyone approaching and a store of weapons that will cut a human in half, they probably don’t need anything else.”

Ida Belle nodded. “I guess with all the storms and flooding, they’d be running a risk of coming up against their own security if they set up anything like that out here.”

“The risk definitely increases in hostile weather environments.” I pointed to a branch in the path. “The right side was traveled more recently,” I said as I veered off that direction.

“He’s trying not to leave a trail, but he’s not that good at it.”

“Not when he’s up against professionals.” I stopped short and put my finger up to my lips, then pointed to our left.
 

Ida Belle nodded and followed me as I crept into the brush and followed the noise. It hadn’t been much—a scratching sound like two pieces of wood rubbing together—but in the stillness of the swamp, it stood out. I eased between the cypress trees, pushing aside the hanging moss and dense weeds, then drew up short.

About ten feet away, the trees thinned out. Behind them I could see the edges of a square structure. I pointed and pulled out my scope. Ida Belle nodded and did the same. I locked in on the structure immediately. It was a small building—maybe ten feet square—constructed of plywood and tin, with long narrow windows on the two walls I could see. I had no doubt the other two walls contained the same windows, giving someone the ability to check the entire perimeter.

I lined my scope up with the window I had the best view into and scanned slowly across the opening, looking for movement. When I reached as far right as I could go, I saw a shadow move along the back wall.
 

“Someone’s in there,” I whispered, “but I can’t see clearly from this angle. Move right.”

Ida Belle nodded and I eased over, choosing every step for maximum silence, until I had the right angle to see the other side of the structure. I lifted my scope and scanned right.

And then I stopped cold.

Chapter Seventeen

I lowered the scope and motioned to Ida Belle to look for herself. She lifted her scope and scanned to the point I indicated, then dropped her scope and stared at me.
 

“What the hell?” she whispered.

I shook my head, at a total loss.

The man inside was Hank Eaton. I recognized him from a picture Gertie had shown me. But he was bound and gagged.

“Do you think the supplier did that?” Ida Belle asked.

“Maybe…I don’t know. If it was the supplier then how does Lucas fit in? His presence here can’t be a coincidence.”

“Maybe Lucas has orders from the supplier?”

“It doesn’t work like that. Delivery boys and cleaners are two different jobs and two different types of people. Something is so very wrong with all of this. What are we missing?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t leave him there like that. By the time we send Riker here, Lucas could have returned, killed him, and tossed the body in the swamp. Everything we say will sound like the rantings of crazy people.”

“So what? We stroll in there and free the man who tried to kill Carter?”

“We take him prisoner.”

“What?” It was all I could do not to yell. “You want to kidnap a gun-smuggling murderer? And do what, take him to Francine’s for dinner?”

“Turn him in to Riker.”

A felt a rise of panic. “I can’t hand someone over to the ATF. They’d unravel my cover until I was standing naked on Main Street.”