“If he’s going to return under his own steam, he’ll likely do it by noon,” Evans said. “Can we all agree on that? Hell, maybe he evacuated ahead of his wife and daughter.”
“I suspect that’s correct,” Manseur said. “Not that he evacuated. That he’ll come in by noon if he can do so.”
“Let’s hope so,” Alexa said.
Evans went on, smiling, “Alexa, I’ve been talking to Michael and this is how we both think this should work. Michael will be handling this as his case along with Kennedy of Missing Persons. I know this is a missing persons case and should be Kennedy’s baby until such time as the situation changes, but I believe that, due to Detective Kennedy’s lack of experience with high-profile, high-pressure cases, Michael should head the team. I hope you can work alongside them, Alexa, to monitor the situation as things develop and not seize the case.”
“If there even is a case,” Alexa replied. “Might just be premature evacuation.”
Evans nodded, his smile drying up.
“Michael has agreed to work on this case exclusively until it’s successfully resolved.”
Alexa nodded slowly. Evans wanted only to come out of this with applause from the right people, and hopefully a nice award for his wall. She heard herself say, “Of course.” As long as you don’t put up any walls I have to knock down.
“I hope it won’t take too long,” Manseur said, sadly.
“It shouldn’t take long,” Jackson Evans said. His words contained equal parts of optimism and threat.
If Gary West didn’t come back, Alexa wondered, how long would it be before she’d have to shove everybody to one side so she could do what needed to be done?
14
The rising sun turned the eastern windows of the listing cabin a brilliant hot-fire orange. Standing shirtless on the plywood trap-floor, Leland Ticholet stood in the doorway studying the murky surface of the still water in the channel and eating instant coffee granules out of the jar with a spoon.
His guest was still exactly where he’d laid him out on the cot. Bringing the guy out for Doc had cost Leland a day of taking care of his own business, but since he would own the boat moored to his dock for one job of work, it did sort of balance out. He was thinking about all the nutria that were, at that moment, swimming around in his water, eating his vegetation into extinction, pooping floating black pellets by the hundreds, screwing like rabbits, and just plain asking for it while he stood there with his thumb up his ass babysitting some worthless shit-hole, long-haired city boy.
Leland was not comfortable sharing his cabin with anyone, asleep or awake. He couldn’t remember anybody but his daddy, and some of his ’shine customers, ever being inside it. Not one visitor since his daddy passed, and Leland hadn’t ever wanted another one. He didn’t have any conversations he could avoid. In his world, he could go weeks without saying a word out loud, or seeing another human being except in a passing boat.
Leland didn’t own the waterways or any of the land that touched it, yet it was his to use as he saw fit, just as it had been his father’s, and his father’s father’s before him. Leland was like a female alligator that tolerated the presence of others as long as they didn’t get too close to her nest or she wasn’t hungry enough to go after them.
15
Using an electric trolling motor so’s not to be heard by their quarry, Wildlife and Fisheries Enforcement Officer Elliot Parnell and rookie Betty Crocker pulled up on the eastern finger of dry land, one of two thinly forested and weed-choked tracts that sheltered Ticholet’s shallow bay. The sixty-yard-long bay ranged from a width of twenty-five yards at its mouth to fifteen at the back, where a U-shaped dock, which was anchored on both ends, held the floating cabin in place.
Crouching and moving slowly, Betty followed Parnell to the hidden camera and watched as her superior removed it from the tree with the giddy enthusiasm of a child on Christmas sneaking downstairs ahead of the family to get a surreptitious look at his presents.
The new boat was gone, so their subject was off, presumably doing something illegal. As a kneeling Parnell was opening the viewing screen, Betty realized she was sweating to the point where her uniform was sticking to her skin. The still August air was muggy. She wished the hurricane would come on and push some wind through the swamps. They were supposed to be riding around the camps making sure everybody that lived around the area knew a monster-ass storm was coming right at them, and would most likely deroof and maybe remove any trace of the rickety-ass buildings that dotted the swamps. They were supposed to be helping the Sheriff’s office by making sure all these poor sons of bitches knew staying was dumb as shit. Like the rat-faced inbred scamps that lived back in here ever came upon a smart idea. Everyone they had told said something like: “She’ll turn.” “This camp’s been here through ten big hurricanes.” “If my dog runs for it, I’ll be right behind her.” Most of them were dumb, paranoid, suspicious, and as quick to pull a gun as crack dealers. Maybe no hurricane would be more apt to kill them than it would a snapping turtle. Parnell had been told that the investigation into Leland Ticholet was not a priority, but he had a hard-on for Leland, and that was it. And she didn’t like the way Parnell was always looking at her out of the corner of his piggy eyes. First time he tried to mess with her, she’d be filing one of those sex harassment lawsuits on his fat ass.
Leland Ticholet made Betty nervous. He had a reputation for being erratic and violent, and she doubted he took more than a few alligators here and there. Why risk your butt for critters that were dumb as rocks, mean as pimps, and as plentiful as cigarette butts? Elliot Parnell was the biggest by-the-rule-book asshole on earth and everybody hated his ass. She got stuck with him because the other agents all hated blacks-especially black women who weren’t mopping their floors-and they thought she’d quit on account of being with Parnell. “We have important warning to be doing,” she said.
“This is important,” Elliot told her.
“Whatever,” Betty said.
“We can’t have everybody around here thinking they can treat our valuable wildlife resources any way they like.” As he spoke he was watching the screen, which was reflected in his beady little eyes. Elliot had a handgun, but Betty wasn’t done with her probationary period, so she wasn’t packing. In an emergency Parnell had said she could use the shotgun. Although her father and brothers were too familiar with guns, Betty had never fired one in her life, and didn’t know one Wildlife and Fisheries officer who had ever had to use deadly force. Parnell had pulled his gun on several people, but everybody said it was because he got scared and overreacted.
“Oh, my God!” Elliot whispered excitedly. “We got the son of a bitch!”
He rewound and turned the tiny screen so Betty could share the view. The teeny boat entered the frame and a bald, shirtless man who had yard-wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles that would make an ox jealous tied off the boat and carried, on one shoulder, something rolled up in a sheet.
“See the alligator he’s got?” Parnell said.
“It’s so dark in that I can’t see shit. But it might be I can sort of see something rolled up in something looks like a bedsheet. Why would the fool roll a alligator up in a bedsheet?”
“So nobody can see what it is.”
“Who in the Sam Hill would be out here looking at him? I’m new at this, but wouldn’t a gator’s tail be hanging way out?”
Parnell glared at her disapprovingly. He had a bitch-on because she had never been in the great outdoors before and had just studied how to be an enforcement officer at the community college. Parnell and the others were rednecks and they resented her for not doing it the way they did. She knew they blamed affirmative action for making it so they couldn’t just hire one of their inbred potbellied brothers-in-law.