Patricia Dusenbury - Claire Marshall 01 - A Perfect Victim (30 page)

He untied the lines and set a bow anchor to hold the boat in the middle of the channel.
From this position, he could see across the marsh to the lake. He imposed a mental grid on the tall
grass, the only place Claire could be hiding, and began a methodical search using a high-powered
marine flashlight. When he found her, he'd give her one more chance to return. If she refused, he'd
shoot her and leave her body for the gators. He'd rather take her on board, have a little fun before
tossing her to the sharks, but he didn't have time to go into the marsh after her, and she wasn't
worth missing his connection.

Daniel slouched in the booth, one of several lining the back room of Ray's Café, and
contemplated the stupidity, or perhaps the brilliance, of bluffing with a pair of fives. He, Ray and
Vinnie were into their third hour of penny ante poker. Thanks to a series of crappy hands, he was
down six dollars. The sound of wheels on gravel brought everyone to attention. Ray killed the light.
Vinnie picked up his shotgun.

"Hey Daniel, it's Jason. Your Mom said I'd find you here." The deputy was out front and
hollering loud enough to wake the dead.

"Shit. He's going to get me killed," Daniel hissed.

"I need a hand, Daniel. Are you inside?"

Ray was half way to the door when Jason kicked it in.

"Aw, man, you didn't have to bust in. I was coming."

"Sorry, Ray. If anything's broken, the Sheriff's Department will send someone to fix it. Is
Daniel here?"

"He's in the back. Him, me and Vinnie, we've been playing cards." Ray flipped on the lights.
"It sounded like you did real damage."

"Vinnie, Daniel, how're you doing?" Jason acted like he'd been invited.

Vinnie said hello, but Daniel wasn't going to pretend he was happy to see Jason. A man who
hadn't done anything wrong ought to be left in peace. Jason pulled a chair up to the end of the booth
and made small talk with Vinnie until Ray came back from examining the door.

"I'm here about that cabin fire," Jason said. "From day one, we knew it was arson. Tonight,
we figured out that Palmer was the killer, not the victim."

"What a kicker." Daniel hooted. "I knew he was an asshole."

Jason didn't crack a smile. "So far, Palmer's responsible for three deaths," he said, "one of
them your cousin Jimmy. Claire Marshall could become number four. He's kidnapped her."

"Why are you telling us?" Vinnie said.

"I'm looking for help. Palmer could be taking her to his boat. We have cars on the way, but
it's slow going. I'm looking for someone to motor me over there. How about it, Daniel?"

"No way, José."

"What's a'matter Danny? Are you yellow?" Ray said.

"I ain't yellow, but I don't go looking for trouble. This ain't my business." He glared at Jason,
who was supposed to protect people and had just told the world where he was hiding. If Palmer
was anywhere around, he'd heard.

"What happened to Jimmy is family business, and you're part of the family." Ray said. "Why
do you think Vinnie and I are watching over your sorry ass?" He spit on the floor.

"Hold on." Jason walked over and put his hand on Ray's shoulder. "Give the man a break.
Me, I'm not looking to confront Palmer, and I'm not yellow."

"How come you want to go over there?" Daniel appreciated the good words, but he wasn't
going to get sucked in.

"All I want is to see if anyone's there. We scope it out and radio the guys in the cars what to
expect."

Daniel picked his cards back up and studied them. They were playing seven-card stud, and
all he had was a pair of fives with nine high, another losing hand. He folded everyone's cards back
into the deck.

"Whose deal?" he said.

Vinnie finished his beer and tossed the bottle in the trash. "I'll take you, Jason," he said. "I
can find Palmer's cabin."

"I appreciate the offer, Vinnie, but I'm not sure you're the man for the job. I need someone
who can get in close and stay out of sight."

Daniel felt everyone looking at him. He spread the cards on the table and mixed them
around. His hand was still swollen from hitting Sammy, and it hurt to shuffle.

"Maybe I'm not your first choice, Jason, but I'm what you've got." Vinnie stood up and
walked over to Jason and Ray. "Danny, you couldn't find your dick in the dark if you used both
hands."

"His boat's out of the water," Ray said. "I got a key to the lift."

"Hey, no one's taking my boat anywhere," Daniel jumped to his feet. "Jason, you gonna let
them steal my boat?"

"I'm commandeering your boat."

"You can't do that."

"This says I can." Jason pointed to his badge.

Daniel couldn't believe what was happening. His own cousins were ganging up against him
and stealing his boat. Vinnie didn't know his way around. He'd run aground, bend the propeller
blades, and muck up the engine.

"All I want to do is look," Jason said. "That's all. You with me, Daniel?"

"Forget him," Ray said, "He's yellow."

Daniel realized that his boat was going with him or without him. With Vinnie at the helm, it
might not come back. He slid out of the booth. "You heard what the man said. He needs someone
who can find his way, which ain't either of you."

Putting the boat in the water went quickly with all four of them pitching in, pulling off
tarps, reseating the motor, fetching a gas can. "I can get us there in ten-fifteen minutes," Daniel said
as he pushed off from the dock. "But Palmer's not stuck 'til daylight. All he needs is four feet of
water at the mouth. Rest of his channel's plenty deep, and tide's coming in. Another thirty or forty
minutes, he can find his way out."

"He's that good a sailor?"

"He doesn't have to be. He's got a depth finder, sonar, you name it. His control panel looks
like a fucking rocket ship."

Jason gave him a funny look.

"All I did was look around. I didn't take nothing. Palmer swamped me once, and I wondered
how come he could go so fast."

"So, tell me what he's got."

"It's a twenty-six footer with a deep vee-hull and twin 250 Yamis." He saw Jason look at the
single motor mounted on their stern, the big four-oh written on its side. It didn't take a genius to
know that forty horsepower versus five hundred was no contest. Palmer could blow them out of the
water.

"The Coast Guard can chase Palmer," Jason said. "I'm worried about Claire Marshall. If he
can leave in thirty minutes, they'll be gone before the cars get there."

"You said we're just going to take a look around." He hadn't signed up for any rescue
mission. "If that's not the plan, count me out."

"The plan is to see if he's there." Jason pointed to the sky where the clouds were scattering.
"Full moon. So, if Palmer is there, he'll see us coming."

"Not unless he has x-ray vision." Daniel didn't want to brag, but no one saw him if he didn't
want them to. "What he'll do is hear us."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know we're on to him."

"Ignorance ain't going to make him deaf."

"Say we get close, turn off the motor and pole in?"

"He'll hear us coming, and he won't hear us leaving. He'll know we're there. He might be
hearing us already."

"Slow down a minute. Let's think this through."

Daniel held the boat steady in the water. If they turned around now, it was good with
him.

"What if we come in fast," Jason said, "making lots of noise, and then when we get close,
start slowing it down, real gradual, so he'll think we're moving away."

"No one's dumb enough to fall for that." Except perhaps this deputy sheriff who was
supposed to be smart but obviously didn't know shit about boats.

"Palmer doesn't spend a lot of time on the water, and I noticed your engine's quieter than
most."

"It's a four stroke."

"So what can we do to fool him? Come on, Daniel, help me out."

He thought about it. Jason was right about Palmer not being a waterman. He could be
conned. "We could do what you said plus we use wet bags to muffle the engine."

"So, I'll get them wet." Jason pulled several burlap bags out from under the deck.

Daniel would never admit it, but now they were underway and making plans, he liked
being part of it. Palmer was an asshole, and he felt kind of bad about the way he'd treated Claire
Marshall.

* * * *

The buzz of a motor emerged from the drone of insects and frogs. Claire returned to the
mouth of the creek, hardly daring to hope, and looked for the source. A black shape sped across the
water's silver surface, a small open boat headed straight toward her. The sound of the motor faded,
as if the boat was moving away, but it appeared to be coming closer. Was the moonlight playing
tricks on her eyes? She swam out into the lake, treaded water and watched.

The boat slowed, its motor died and a man climbed onto the front. He used a long pole to
pull the boat through the water. A second man sat in the back, paddling. They reached the marsh
and disappeared into a tidal creek. Claire waited for them to reappear, thinking about how to
attract their attention without alerting Frank.

"Hey Claire," Frank called. "You hear that boat? Smugglers come up this bayou, bringing
drugs in from Mexico. Those guys play rough. You don't want them to find you."

The small boat reappeared just short of the channel that led down to Frank's dock. They
must have heard him. She stared, willing them to stay quiet, stay hidden. Whoever they were, they
couldn't be more dangerous than Frank Palmer.

"Last chance Claire. I'm not going to hang around all night. Let me know where you are and
I'll toss you a life jacket. Tide's coming in, you're going to need it." Frank's words were conciliatory,
but his voice vibrated with fury.

She raised one arm out of the water and waved to the men in the boat. One of them lifted
something to his eyes. Binoculars? She waved again, and he waved back. She placed her index finger
across her lips.
Please be quiet. Don't let him hear you.

If that boat came to her, Frank would see it. He wouldn't hesitate to shoot them. But she
could go to them, swimming underwater when she crossed the channel. She'd have to fight the
incoming tide. She studied the ripples on the water's surface, gauging the speed of the current. A
dark form moved even faster. A long head and a sinuous ridge showed above the water. As she
watched, another alligator swam into view. Both headed down the channel toward Frank's dock.
Blood from the alligator he shot could be attracting them, or maybe it was their feeding ground.
Why they were there didn't matter. Swimming across their path would be suicidal.

The man with the pole beckoned. She shook her head and pointed to the alligators.

Daniel had already seen them. "Gators," he said, keeping his voice low, "big ones. We got to
get her out of the water."

"Can we reach her without Palmer seeing us?" Jason whispered.

The answer was no, but they couldn't leave her there. "He'll see us, but if we're fast, by the
time he's cast off, we'll be where he can't follow."

"Ready when you are." Jason picked up the pole. "I'll haul her in with this."

"Make sure she grabs it on the first try. If that don't happen, we'll be out there backing and
turning like a sitting duck." He switched the motor back on and sped across the channel. ""

An alligator veered toward Claire, who was swimming out to meet them. Daniel
maneuvered into its path. Jason swung the pole and smacked its snout. The gator turned, and a
blow from its massive tail rocked their boat. A bright light blazed out the mouth of the channel, and
powerful engines roared into life. Palmer had been ready to go.

"Get her," Daniel yelled. "I've got the gator."

He grabbed the wet burlap bags--now steaming hot--off the engine and threw them at the
animal's head. One fell across its eyes. The gator bellowed and dove. Jason was pulling Claire into
the boat. As soon as her feet cleared the water, he opened the throttle. They raced toward the
mouth of the creek with Palmer's boat bearing down on them.

"He's got a gun," Claire said.

She crouched against the side of the boat. Jason unholstered his revolver and followed her
example, while Daniel hunkered down beside the motor, steering blind. They bounced through the
shallows and into the mouth of the creek. Behind them, Palmer's boat ground against the bottom.
His engines screamed as he reversed into deeper water.

Once they rounded the first bend, Daniel cut off the motor and swung it up out of the water.
Their momentum and the incoming tide carried them deeper into the marsh, at times through
water so shallow that shells on the bottom reflected the moonlight. He lay on the prow deck, using
an oar to keep them off the sandbars and away from the sides. The tall grass hid them, but Palmer
wasn't giving up. He patrolled back and forth, coming as close as he could without running aground.
His spotlight raked the marsh.

At one point, they were close enough to see him holding the wheel in one hand and a
machine gun in the other. Daniel pulled up tight against the near bank. Jason had his gun trained on
Palmer but, to Daniel's relief, didn't use it. Disabling Palmer with the first shot would be tricky at
this distance, and one shot was all Jason would get before that machine gun came into play.

When they reached the inlet that separated the marsh from the swamp forest, he handed
Jason an oar and explained the situation. For twenty feet, they'd be in the open. They'd cross the
next time Palmer turned his boat around, when he should be looking where he was going, and hope
he didn't see them.

"I'll lie up front and steer. You push off as hard as you can."

Claire picked up the other oar. "I know how to paddle, and I'm stronger than I look."

He gave the signal, and they slid across into a dark sanctuary. A thick tree canopy blocked
the moon's light, and hanging vines formed walls on either side of the channel. He grabbed a
cypress knee and pulled the boat through an invisible opening. Vines surrounded them. Roots and
branches arched overhead. Someone six feet away and looking right at them wouldn't see
them.