Rumble on the Bayou (31 page)

Joe's heart immediately dropped. Please, God, no. Don't let anything have happened to the sheriff But as he rushed to the phone, he wondered already if this morning's confession might have been just the thing to send the sheriff's heart over the edge.

He grabbed the phone from the counter. "Sherry, it's Joe."

"Oh, Joe," Sherry wailed. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do."

"Calm down, Sherry. You've got to tell me what's wrong"

"It's the sheriff," Sherry cried, her voice rising in panic.

Joe felt every muscle in his body tighten and he braced himself against the counter. "What's happened to the sheriff, Sherry?"

"He's gone," she shrieked. "He's gone!"

Joe got what little information he could from the frantic Sherry, dropped the phone and raced out to his truck, trying to make his voice sound normal as he called for Dorie. "Dorie, call in." He waited a moment then pressed the button again. "Dorie, are you out there?" He waited another moment, but the radio remained silent.

"Damn!" He looked at Jenny, who was standing next to the truck, hand clenched by her side. "Dorie headed out to Maylene's earlier. I'm going to drive that way. I'll keep trying her on the radio. You try her on her cell and give Maylene a call, then keep a lookout in town. If you see her, tell her to get to the retirement home immediately."

She nodded as he threw his truck in gear. "Joe," she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Be careful."

He gave her a grim smile, floored the truck, and squealed down Main Street.

***

Dorie and Richard were wading out of the marsh, when she heard Joe's voice come over the radio. It didn't sound good. She rushed to the jeep and grabbed the radio. "Joe, it's Dorie. What's wrong?"

"Dorie, thank God. I've been trying to reach you for almost ten minutes. There's a problem with your dad."

Dorie sucked in a breath and Richard placed his hand on her shoulder. "What kind of problem?" she asked.

"He's missing. Sherry can't find him anywhere, and she's in a panic. We need to get over there. I'll meet you in town!

Dorie flung the radio into the jeep and jumped in the driver's seat. Richard barely made it around the other side before she put the vehicle in gear and tore off down the road, making the drive back to Gator Bait in record time. They slowed just enough on Main Street for Joe to jump in the back of the jeep, and then she floored the vehicle again, and raced toward the highway.

Sherry was standing in front of the building, worry etched on her face, when Dorie screeched to a halt in the middle of the driveway. Completely ignoring the no parking rules, she jumped out of the jeep and rushed into the building after Sherry, Richard and Joe not far behind.

Dorie passed the distraught Sherry in the hallway and was the first to enter her dad's apartment. "I just know something awful has happened," Sherry cried. "Oh, Dorie, please forgive me for not keeping a better eye on him." She put her hands over her face and burst into tears.

Dorie patted her on the arm. "This isn't your fault, Sherry. If Dad wanted to go, he would have gotten around you regardless of how closely you were watching him." She pointed to the empty wheelchair and looked at Richard and Joe.

Richard glanced at the chair and his eyes widened. "Good Lord. You think he wanted to leave, or did someone force him?"

Dorie slowly shook her head and studied the room. "There's no sign of a struggle, and Dad's upper body all but makes up for his legs." She walked over to the coat closet in the living room, yanked the door open and peered inside. "His manual wheelchair is gone."

Joe whistled. "Not a good sign."

Richard looked from Joe to Dorie. "What does that mean?"

Joe blew out a breath. "It means someone else was with him, and they wanted to move fast and easy. The motorized wheelchair is heavy to push, if necessary, and not easy to fit in some places."

Dorie closed the closet door and did the one thing she'd been putting off since she stepped into the apartment-she opened the drawer on the end table and looked inside. "It's gone," she said, her voice choked with fear. "Joe, it's gone."

"What's gone?" Richard asked, his voice rising with Dorie's obvious panic.

His pistol," Joe replied, his voice grim. He turned to Sherry, who was still weeping quietly and said, "I need you to pull a phone log. See who the sheriff called this morning and last night."

Sherry nodded and hurried out of the apartment. Joe and Dorie began to systematically check the rooms for missing items, leaving Richard standing helpless in the midst of chaos.

"His stash is still here," Dorie said and waved a wad of cash she'd removed from the dresser.

"Looks like all his clothes are here," Joe said and began to close the closet door, then paused and stared at the floor. "Except his boots. Why the hell would he need rubber boots?"

Dorie was struggling for an answer when Sherry rushed back into the apartment, a long sheet of computer paper trailing behind her. "It's here," she said breathlessly. "The only place the sheriff called today was the shrimp house."

"Buster," Dorie said and looked at Joe, who blew out a breath, and slumped against the wall. "What if they lied to me again, Joe? What if the whole story was a lie?"

Joe shook his head and darted a glance at Richard, then at Dorie. "We don't know that and shouldn't jump to conclusions."

Dorie looked at Richard, who was obviously aware that he'd missed something important, but wasn't about to ask. She knew Joe wanted her to keep everything quiet, at least until they figured out what was going on, but this had gone on long enough-thirty-something years too long, as a matter of fact. And it was going to end here, regardless of what Richard thought of her after she'd had her say. "First thing we have to do is find Buster," she said and looked back at Joe, who nodded.

She returned her gaze to Richard, but couldn't quite meet his eyes. "And I have a few things to explain to you on the ride back to Gator Bait."

***

After Dorie's confession, the remainder of the drive was completed in silence. Dorie was dying to know what Richard thought, but wasn't about to ask-not in front of Joe. Unfortunately, the agent's opinion mattered far too much to her, and she didn't want to hear that he suspected her dad was involved with Roland's latest drug run. Especially since she didn't know herself that her dad wasn't helping Roland.

Dorie dropped Joe off at his truck and he raced off to Buster's house to check things out. Dorie and Richard continued to the shrimp house.

The secretary was at the front desk when they burst in the door. She frowned at Richard and gave Dorie a brief smile. "Help you, Dorie?" she asked.

“
Is Buster here?" Dorie asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

The secretary gave her a confused look. "Why, no. He got a call from your dad earlier today and raced out of here. I figured it was an emergency or something with the hurry he was in. Is your dad all right?" She stared at Dorie with obvious concern.

"I'm not sure. He's gone from the retirement home, and no one knows where he is. If you see him or Buster, please call me."

The woman straightened in her chair and nodded. “Absolutely. And I'll take a stitch out of those men if I find they've worried you this way over some silliness. Bunch of old fools."

"Thanks," Dorie said as they left the shrimp house and stepped into the warehouse to question the workers. A couple of minutes later, they were back outside with no more information than they'd come in with.

Dorie stared down Main Street, then across the bayou and blew out a breath, remembering the receptionist's comment. If only silliness were the answer. Right now, she'd give anything for her dad and Buster to be on a bender at a topless bar in Lake Charles, but she knew that wasn't the case. Topless bars hadn't required rubber boots and a sidearm for years.

She reached into the jeep and picked up the radio. "Talk to me, Joe. What do you have?"

"Not a damn thing," Joe replied. "The house is empty, and the idiot left it unlocked again. No sign of his truck, but all the boats are still here."

"Boats, damn it," Dorie said. "Thanks, Joe." She threw the radio down in the jeep and hurried around the shrimp house to the dock. "I'm thinking like an amateur. We need to check the boats." She stared at the line of crafts tied off behind the shrimp house.

"Are they all here?" Richard asked.

She studied the row of boats for a moment, certain something was wrong. "No. One of Buster's old flat-bottomed aluminum boats is gone."

"Wide enough for a wheelchair?"

She stared at the empty slip and nodded, unable to speak.

"Well," he said and glanced back at the shrimp house, the gleaming row of windows reflecting the sun onto the bayou. "He didn't load your dad up here or someone would have seen him. Where would he do that if he didn't want to be seen?"

Dorie scrunched her brow in concentration. "Not any of the marinas, that's for sure." She shook her head in frustration. "There's just nowhere to load someone in a wheelchair from a car to a boat without risking being seen by someone." Then a thought hit her like lightening. "Except my place. It's completely isolated. That's the only answer."

They raced back around the shrimp house, jumped in the jeep, and tore out of the parking lot. Dorie radioed Joe on the way to tell him where they were headed. "I still don't understand why they need a boat. What the hell are they doing?"

***

Richard shook his head at the question and clutched the roll bar of the jeep. His mind had been swimming with possibilities ever since Dorie had told him the story of her dad and Buster's past with Roland, and none of them were good. Further complicating the whole mess was the other lie that only he and her father knew about. Another lie that had been perpetuated for more than thirty years. What would stop the man from lying about everything? And how would they know when he was telling the truth?

What if the sheriff had been involved with Roland all along? What if the story he told about Dorie's "adoption" was just another lie created to cover up his part in Roland's drug trade? And how would Dorie feel if Richard was single-handedly responsible for taking down her father and her dad?

At least he no longer suspected Dorie of direct involvement with Roland, but the knowledge was poor consolation at best.

He blew out a breath and looked out over the bayou. So deceptively peaceful. The tide rolled gently out toward the gulf. The marsh grass swayed with the rhythm of the water with the sun reflecting down on it all, creating bursts of color. And in spite of the view, this sleepy little town held secrets no one could imagine.

All of which centered on Dorie Berenger.

He looked over at her and didn't like what he saw. Her face, usually flushed with anger or excitement, was unusually pale. There was no doubting the strain she was under. Not that he blamed her, but he was afraid it would take her edge off. And if her dad was dealing with Roland, they were going to need all the edge they could get.

***

It was long after midnight before they returned to Joe's house. Dorie and Richard found Buster's truck and trailer at Dorie's place, but the boat was nowhere in sight. And despite spending the remainder of daylight and half of the night in the bayous, they had come up with nothing. Joe dropped onto the couch in exhaustion, Dorie headed to the shower and Richard went into the kitchen for a much-needed beer. "Do you mind?" he asked.

Joe waved a hand. "Go ahead. Hell, bring me one while you're at it."

He nodded and carried two beers into the living room. Slumping into a recliner across from Joe, he tossed a beer over to him. "We should probably eat something. Last thing we need is a middle-of-the-night emergency on a stomach with only beer."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, and unfortunately, the odds of a middle-of-the-night emergency have increased dramatically ever since you came to town."

Richard blew out a breath. "I know. Damn, I never thought things would get this complicated. All these years, I've been chasing a one-dimensional criminal. I never considered how it might affect other people."

Joe nodded in understanding.

“
I never even imagined that people, like the sheriff or Buster, could have been involved with someone like Roland." He ran one hand through his hair in frustration. "It's like a bad horror movie, with me starring as The Asshole."