Chapter 10 That Can’t Be Real

Chapter 10

That Can’t Be Real

“A rougarou?” I asked.

Kenneth LePine nodded. “Dat’s da only thing it could be.”

“I’m afraid you have me at quite the disadvantage, so you’ll need to explain that one to me.”

He stared back at me as if I didn’t understand sunlight. “You knows the rougarou don’t eat nothin’ but da heads, hands, and hearts.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said. “Gator has to hear this.”

Kenneth laughed. “Dat boy don’t know nothin’ ’bout da world, but surely he know ’bout dem rougarou.”

“Let’s find out.”

We reconvened around the makeshift firepit, and I said, “We solved the mystery. It was the rougarou.”

Kenneth and I waited for the reaction, and we weren’t disappointed.

Gator threw up his hands and said, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Kenneth said, “You know, da rougarou. It lives in da bayou, and even da gators—like you—are afraid of it.”

Gator blinked several times in rapid succession. “Is this a real thing?”

Kenneth nodded enthusiastically. “Look ’round. You don’t see no gators, does you?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean there’s a monster out here. What did you call it? A roo-ga-roo?”

“That’s right…rougarou. It eats da heads so it knows e’rething dat brain be thinking. It eats dem hands so it knows all da skill dem hands had. And it eats dem hearts so it can live forever. It don’t eat nothin’ else. That’s why der don’t be nothin’ ’cept legs and arms for ol’ Keef to find out here. It rips dem off and throws ’em in the bayou. Once dey get dat rougarou smell on dem, ain’t nothin’ gonna eat ’em.”

Gator hopped to his feet. “Okay, that’s enough. You guys are messing with me again, and I’m over it.”

The three of us stared at each other in silence until Gator finally said, “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really think there’s a monster out here ripping arms and legs off people and eating the rest of them.”

Kenneth glared up at him. “You believe der be a God up in Heaven, don’t you?”

Gator nodded. “Of course.”

“And you knows dey be peoples who don’t believe God is real. You know dis, right?”

“Sure,” Gator said. “Atheists.”

Kenneth softened his tone. “Do dem folks who don’t believe in Him make God not exist?”

“Well, no. That’s ridiculous.”

Kenneth laid a hand on his shoulder. “Just ’cause you believe something don’t be real don’t mean it ain’t.”

Gator squeezed both eyes closed and shook his head. “I want to drive the airboat some more.”

Kenneth said, “I gots to put dem bones back if you’s through lookin’ at ’em.”

Gator took a step toward me. “What do you think? Should we keep the bones?”

“Do you want to get caught with bones from a dead body? I’d love to hear you talk your way out of that one. If we need those bones, we know where they are.”

He palmed his forehead. “I’ve got so much to learn.”

Gator took us for another high-speed adventure through the bayou aboard his new favorite toy, and I could clearly see an airboat in his future.

Back at Kenneth’s humble abode, I was surprised to see a Ford dually pickup truck parked beside the camper. Gator helped tie up the airboat while I investigated the new arrival, and to my delight, my suspicion was confirmed.

Earline came waddling down the makeshift steps with both arms waving. “There you are, Stud Muffin. I was startin’ to get worried about you. How are you liking the Cajun life?”

I checked across my shoulder before saying, “I’ll be honest. It’s a little strange, but the food is amazing.”

We threw our arms around each other and hugged until Kenneth and Gator rounded the shack. The old man let out a long, high-pitched sound that I couldn’t identify, and he followed it up with, “If it ain’t my daughter-in-law. How dat girl be, her?”

Earl pulled away and wrapped her arms around the old Cajun. “How you doin’, Crawdaddy?”

Kenneth peered around her as if examining her truck. “You didn’t bring dat boy o’ mine with you, did you?”

Earl huffed. “No, he ain’t with me.”

“Good,” he said. “He don’t belong here no more, him.”

Earl brushed hair away from Kenneth’s face. “Don’t say that, Daddy. It ain’t right.”

“It be e’rething dat is right. Dat boy made him own decidings, and now he gots to sleep in da nest he made.”

Earl cocked her head. “That’s my nest now, too, you know.”

“I don’t holds nothin’ ’gainst you for dat nest. Ol’ Keef loves you, him do for sure.”

“You love Kenny, too. Admit it, you old coot.”

He huffed and turned on a bare foot. “You done et, or is you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry, Pops. You know that. But I need to talk to Chase first. Is that all right with you?”

He kept walking. “I’ll put on a fire. You come on in when you done.”

We climbed into the camper and planted ourselves wherever we could find a spot.

I said, “Sorry about the cramped quarters, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Earl laughed. “I lived on a boat for twenty years, Baby Boy. What you talking ’bout, cramped quarters? This is luxury living.”

I said, “You’re a long way from home, Earl. What are you doing way down here?”

“I told you I needed to talk to you.”

I held up my phone. “Don’t you have one of these?”

She slapped my hand out of the air. “You know I do, but this kind of talking has more to do with the way you look than the way you sound.”

“I’m intrigued. Let’s hear it.”

She cleared her throat. “Did he tell you about the bones?”

“He did. He even took us to see some of them.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“They’re definitely bones.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Find out who put ’em out there.”

I repositioned on the edge of my bunk. “That’s not the kind of thing we do.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know, but it’s me asking, and I don’t ask for much.”

“You’ve never asked for anything,” I said. “Kenneth won’t let us call the sheriff, and without Tony and Hunter, criminal investigation isn’t in our bag of tricks.”

“Haven’t you learned anything since you’ve been down here, Baby Boy?”

“What do you mean?”

“The law ain’t how they do things in the bayou, and I guess Kenneth told you about…”

“Going to prison?” I asked.

“Yeah, that. If the sheriff gets involved, he ain’t gonna look no farther than right over there in that run-down house, and my daddy-in-law will be headed right back to Angola.”

“What’s Angola?” Gator asked.

“It’s the Louisiana state prison farm. They named it after the plantation that used to stand on the property, and from what I hear, conditions haven’t changed a whole lot since those days.”

Gator chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then said, “I hate to be that guy, but if we get caught working a murder investigation and not reporting the murders, aren’t we on the hook for charges of some kind? I know what we do overseas, but here in the States, if we know multiple murders have been committed and we don’t tell somebody, we may end up in Angola with ol’ Keef.”

I said, “You know how this works. Nobody is obligated to work any mission we’re handed, or any mission we pick up, so if I decide we’re doing this, you’re free to back out and nobody will hold it against you.”

He drummed his fingertips against his knees. “I’m the new guy, so I don’t have the bankroll you guys have yet. If we get busted, I can’t afford a good attorney, and—”

“Stop right there,” I said. “If you’re working a mission at my direction and operating within the rules of engagement I define, your legal fees are my responsibility.”

“What about the Board?” he asked.

My team and I worked for a quasi-governmental organization we knew only as the Board. When missions of national concern came to us, those missions were assigned by the Board, and we reported directly to them on those missions.

“This one is personal,” I said. “The Board has nothing to do with anything we do on our own. As a professional courtesy, I notify them before embarking on a freelance gig, but I don’t ask them for anything when we’re on our own.”

He seemed to let the reality of our world sink in. “But what about the equipment?”

“We own it all,” I said. “We get reimbursed for expenses on authorized operations as well as drawing our contractual fees, but if we sever ties with the Board, we’ll keep all the hardware.”

His mouth fell open. “Including the ship?”

The Research Vessel Lori Danielle was nothing short of a ship of war masquerading as an oceanographic research platform. Her hundred-person crew was paid from my coffers, but I drew a significant stipend from the Board for her operation, staffing, and maintenance. Between missions, we occasionally took on humanitarian projects, but that happened outside the purview of the Board.

I held out a hand and waggled it. “That’s a little murky. I treat the LD like she’s ours, but I doubt I’d have the freedom to sell it on the open market if I chose to do so.”

He nodded and made small circles in the air with his fingertip. “So, are we doing this?”

I glanced at Earl, and she said, “I’ve never asked you for anything, Baby Boy, and I promise it’ll never happen again, but I need this one. Kenny and his daddy need this one.”

“What’s the story there?” I asked. “What happened between those two?”

She made a clicking sound for several seconds. “To be honest, I don’t know. I know Kenny’s side of the story, but his daddy won’t talk about it. Apparently, Kenny decided to leave the bayou and make his fortune on his own, and his father told him if he left, he wouldn’t get a penny or a piece of land from him when he died.”

I scowled. “A penny or a piece of land? Everything Kenneth owns can’t be worth more than a few thousand dollars.”

Earl shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s all Kenny’s ever told me, and he’s done pretty well for himself. He’s got four or five million dollars’ worth of earthmoving equipment, a lot of trucks, thirty employees, and a bunch of land in Georgia. I don’t poke my nose into his business, but it looks to me like everything southwest of New Orleans ain’t worth what my lovin’ man’s got back home.”

She paused, stared at the ceiling for a moment, and said, “That’s why this is so important to me. I know Kenneth would be proud if he knew how well his son has done, but they’ve not talked in decades. And if he goes back to prison, there’s no chance they’ll ever say another word to each other. If you do this for me, I just might be able to get those two stubborn asses in the same room together again before the old man dies.”

As the weight of the situation settled on my shoulders, I glanced at Gator, who appeared to be hanging on every word out of Earl’s mouth. He was in. I had no doubt. But he and I couldn’t pull it off without the rest of the team.

I looked into Earl’s weathered, tired eyes. “We’re headed back to St. Marys.”

She deflated and grimaced as if my words had driven a stake through her enormous heart, so I laid a hand on hers. “We’re going home to get the rest of the team, old girl. After all you’ve done for me, there’s no way I could ever say no to you.”