The Drought (45 page)

Looking out toward the dark woods he felt for the boy. The host’s strength intrigued him. He could still feel him just as he had the gypsy woman, only she had recoiled in horror at the slayings, hiding away inside of herself. This one, the one the boy had called Tanner wasn’t hiding, he was trying to control the show. The idea amused him. He didn’t mind humoring the man in his pursuit of this particular boy—the dark hunger had awakened. He needed to feed. Brunache stepped over the Sheriff, and called out to Narried. “You won’t be able to save them both.” He faded into the shadows and disappeared.

Reserve, Louisiana

A short distance into the woods, Daniel heard a low moan. He unclipped his gun, took two steps, snagged his foot on the root of a giant cypress and went down hard. The gun flew out of his hand and the breath left his body in a loud, “oomph!” Spitting dirt, he tried to draw air into his deflated lungs.

Another loud moan floated through the darkness. Daniel crawled along the ground searching for his missing gun. He knew he was getting closer to whatever was moaning but he’d convinced himself it couldn’t be the man from the ceremony. No one had seen him slip away into the woods. He wasn’t a key player in what was unfolding so he felt relatively safe. The thought of running into some of the local wildlife had him worried. The drought had impacted the marsh, forcing alligators out of their natural habitat as well as creating odd eating habits for the local bears. He had spent the last several minutes debating on whether he would rather run into a foraging bear or a displaced alligator.

His hands met warm fur.

He froze, expecting sharp teeth to bite down. Nothing happened.

There was another low moan.

This time Daniel recognized the sound. His hands reached out and gently touched the animal. It was Agador, Nathan’s bloodhound. “Sweet Jesus, what the hell are you doing out here?”

The large hound moaned again.

He pushed at the dog trying to get him to move but the big hound continued to lie on the path. Feeling around for his collar, he found a rope tied around his neck. He followed the length of rope until he found the other end secured to a stake driven into the ground. After yanking the stake out of the ground he removed the rope. The dog was free to go but still it didn’t move.

Settling down next to the hound, he felt the weight of the past forty-eight hours settle over him. He scrubbed at the sick dog’s ears. “I’ve got to tell you Agador, that whole thing with Nathan wasn’t planned. He wasn’t supposed to find Angelina’s body.” Leaning closer to the dog, he could smell its musty odor. “And this is between you and me. I know I clubbed him over the head, but it wasn’t me who set the fire, it was Elise.”

Agador lifted his head as if trying to make eye contact with Daniel. It might have been impossible, but in the dark it looked as if the dog gave him a skeptical look.

Shrugging, he defended himself to the dog. “I swear it’s true. She has a history with fire, just ask my granddaddy.”

The sedative Nute had given Agador earlier in the evening was wearing off. Starting to feel normal the dog tried to rise up. He made it to his feet, stumbled and fell back down again.

Daniel stood up and pulled at the makeshift collar around the dog’s neck. The dog lumbered up, this time managing to stay on all four feet. An idea occurred to Daniel. Fishing into his pocket he found the keys to Nathan’s truck. Leaning down over Agador, the same way he’d seen Nathan do on a dozen different search and rescue occasions, he put the keys beneath the dog’s snout and whispered. “Come on Agador, let’s go find Nathan.” The hound perked up at the familiar smell. In a subdued and somewhat drunken gait he set off through the woods.

A few minutes later they broke free of the woods. Daniel looked around, rubbing the back of his head in disbelief. He’d been so close and yet without the dog he’d still be wandering around the woods looking for the right path.

Agador bounded toward the familiar vehicle. Once there, he put his large paws up on the side of the truck and bayed. He dropped down, sniffed around the truck, popped back up on the other side and was about to let loose another howl when he cocked his head at an odd angle and began to whine. Turning, he sniffed the air his eyes fixated on a thin line of trees just up the road.

Daniel already knew what was behind the thin line of trees and he figured Agador was picking up the scent of Elise’s blood. Pulling at the rope, Daniel called in a low voice, “Come on Agador let’s go.”

The command did not bring the dog around the truck. Instead he surged forward heading toward the line of trees. The rope pulled taut. Caught in a coil Daniel nearly toppled to the ground. Regaining his balance, he pulled the rope around his forearm and managed to slow the forward surge of the hound. He knew from watching Nathan handle Agador in the field, once a hound picked up a scent it was nearly impossible to stop the dog from trailing the scent to the end. The rope bit into Daniel’s forearm.

Agador showed no sign of relenting. The rope dug into his neck and choked him but despite this he was ever so slowly pulling Daniel in the direction he wanted to go. If Daniel didn’t let him go free at some point the damn hound would pull him back to the carnage he had fled. Unraveling the rope from around his arm, he let it loose. Suddenly free, Agador leapt forward baying loudly as he hurtled toward the scent that had captured his attention.

Daniel climbed into Nathan’s truck. As he turned the key in the ignition he realized someone was hiding down on the floorboard. He reached for his gun and touched the empty holster. He’d never found his gun back in the woods. In an authoritative voice he commanded, “Who the hell are you?”

The figure unfolded, revealing a small, pale face. A boy stared up. Chin trembling, he whispered, “This is Nathan’s truck.”

He recognized the kid immediately. He was about to order him out of the truck when a thought stopped him. He might need some bartering power along the way. Allowing his face to soften he offered the boy a half-smile. “You’re right kid. Nathan asked me to bring his truck around to the station. You want to go for a ride?”

The boy nodded and tucked himself back into a ball.

Daniel threw the truck into gear and peeled out of the grass. He could see the kid was on the brink of a breakdown. The human mind could only take so much. Next thing you knew it was “
snick
” lights out. It wouldn’t take much more for the kid’s switch to be flipped off permanently.

Getting the duffle bag out of the station shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Loretta had been taking time off to deal with her heat migraines and Frank Malone, one of the part-time deputies who pulled the night shift wasn’t too swift. It was his intention to walk in, take the bag from the evidence locker and leave before anyone knew what had happened. The fact he was driving Nathan’s truck had a side benefit. No one knew Nathan had been killed at Elise’s house. If he worked it right, it might look like Nathan had taken the money and disappeared.

The night air was thick with smoke. As Daniel approached the center of town, it visibly thickened. Billowing smoke rolled off the rooftops, wafting down through the streets, reducing visibility. Slowing the truck, Daniel thought,
The whole fucking town’s on fire.
At first the idea concerned him but then he realized the more chaos that existed in Reserve the better.

He swung the truck into the parking lot of the Sheriff’s department and killed the engine. He looked down at the bundle on the floorboard, but the kid didn’t budge. It was just as well, he didn’t need the extra worry while he was inside. Daniel got out of the truck and entered the station. He paused for a moment, realizing this would be the last time he walked through those doors. Hell, he’d probably never see Reserve again. It didn’t matter. With Elise gone he didn’t have any reason to stay.

As he suspected, Loretta was not at the front desk. Frank Malone was also missing. It was against station policy to leave the building unattended but he had to believe Frank was out with the rest of the town trying to get the fire under control.

Daniel strolled to the back of the station using Nathan’s keys to unlock the doors. He chuckled recalling the look on Nathan’s face when he walked in and caught Daniel and Elise together. That wasn’t part of the plan but Daniel had enjoyed the moment, immensely. Nathan couldn’t have known what it felt like to be Daniel for the past two years. He had lost a local election to an outsider and his sister had taken the same man as her lover. Nathan Singer had come to represent all that was wrong in Daniel Dupier’s world.

Opening the door to the evidence locker-room, Daniel selected a small key from the ring of keys and inserted it in the largest locker. Feeling the tumbler roll over, Daniel stopped to savor the moment. The steel door swung open and the musty odor of the marsh, still clinging to the bag, filled Daniel’s nostrils. He remembered what it felt like when he had stood on the bank and unzipped the bag. He’d been tempted to shoot Nathan right on the spot. Nathan had had no idea how close he’d come to death that morning. The only thing that saved him was the fact Curtis was already on the way with the tow-truck.

As Daniel pulled the duffel bag from the locker, he felt a presence behind him. Turning, he came face-to-face with Frank Malone.

Black soot streaked Frank’s tired face. Eyeing the bag, he asked, “What’s going on Daniel, where’s Nathan?”

Trying to sound flippant, Daniel said, “There’s some kind of commotion out in the woods. Nathan sent me to get the money. Looks like the whole town is going up in flames.”

As weary as he looked, Frank moved, positioning himself in front of the door. “Daniel, we’ve known each other a long time, but you know I can’t let you take that bag.” To add emphasis to his words, Frank placed his hand on his holster and unsnapped it.

“Damn it Frank. This whole town is about to burn to the ground. You just move aside so I can do my duty.”

Frank shook his head, resolutely. “I can’t do it Daniel.”

For the second time that night Daniel was painfully aware he was without a gun. Raising one hand in the air, he used the other to toss the bag into the middle of the room. He said, “All right, all right, you take the bag and we’ll go get Nathan on the line so you know I’m telling the truth.”

Visibly relieved, Frank removed his hand from his holster and stepped forward to retrieve the bag. Daniel waited until Frank Malone’s hand was gripping the satchel before he rushed the older deputy. The full body tackle knocked Frank to the floor and within seconds Daniel had his knees planted firmly in Frank’s back and was pulling the deputy’s .45 out of his unsnapped holster.

Breathing hard he snapped, “Jesus, Frank that was really sloppy leaving your holster unsnapped. You know better than that.” Aiming the gun at the deputy’s head, Daniel stood up, uncertain what he was going to do with Frank Malone.

Still feeling the adrenaline of the scuffle, Daniel kicked at Frank’s leg. “Why Frank, why did you have to come back in here? Damn it, this could have been so fucking easy. Now what am I supposed to do?”

Frank mumbled into the floor. “I won’t say a word, Daniel. You just go on, I didn’t see anything.”

“Bullshit! Damn it, Frank, I was just supposed to disappear no one had to know. Why the hell did you come back in here?”

Frank Malone was only a part-time deputy. He worked the job because he promised his wife if any one of his three kids found their way into college he’d help them along any way he could. Two years ago, his youngest daughter was accepted at Louisiana State. A man of his word, he went out the same day and was lucky enough to run into Nathan Singer who offered him part-time work in the Sheriff’s office. He spent most of the time behind the desk answering phones and once in awhile he helped Nathan out in the field with a search party. In the past two years he’d never had occasion to pull his gun from its holster and he’d never had another person pull a gun on him.

Lying with his face pressed against the dirty linoleum floor of the station, Frank Malone didn’t need experience to understand the direness of his situation. Daniel Dupier was a desperate man, and desperate men tended to do crazy things. Trying to reason with the man he had worked next to for the past two years, Frank said, “Damn it Daniel, you don’t have to do this. Hell, you’ve had dinner at my house. Remember, you and Eloise sat there arguing over the best way to bread fried catfish. How will she make sense of it? It’ll eat at her, the thought of you doing this, it will chew her up.”

Frank heard the indrawn breath, and the half-sob accompanying the inhalation. The sound made him think he’d reached inside of Daniel Dupier, found his humanity and made him see reason.

Daniel stood with his finger clenched, ready to pull the trigger. It had been easy to smash Nathan over the head with a board. The act of pulling a trigger and ending a man’s life was a different thing all together. He had always liked Frank Malone and remembering the night over at Frank’s house, when Eloise had fried up a mess of catfish, didn’t make what he had to do any easier. He’d had a real nice time that night.