Chapter 17 The Rule

Chapter 17

The Rule

Everyone jerked, ducked, and instinctually threw up a hand to protect themselves from the explosion and flying debris. The gathered crowd retreated, but my team leapt into action. Mongo reengaged the water pump, and Shawn wrapped a massive arm around the pulsing fire hose. He moved toward the blaze with the nozzle pouring all the water the pump could force from the bayou. The blaze persisted, but Shawn wouldn’t surrender. He fought his way forward, delivering a massive volume of water onto the flaming demon in front of him.

Nothing about the fire looked or felt natural, and nothing inside the camper could’ve created an explosion of that magnitude. A pair of propane bottles fed the camper, and a gasoline generator provided power, but neither of those elements could result in the explosion and towering flames in front of me. The longer Shawn fought, the hotter the inferno grew.

I moved in behind the SEAL and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Pull back and let it burn.”

He cast a look across his shoulder that said he wasn’t ready for the round to end and for him to return to his corner.

I tightened my grip and strengthened my tone. “Let it burn.”

His expression made it clear he didn’t share my opinion, but he swallowed his pride and retreated.

When we were far enough away to close the nozzle, he said, “What if somebody’s in there?”

“Nobody would’ve survived that explosion,” I said. “That’s obviously not just the camper burning. Somebody loaded that thing with something and set it off remotely.”

“Could’ve been a timer.”

“Maybe, but why not torch it with the house instead of after the scene calmed down?”

He glanced at the gathered crowd. “Who knows? But I say we pat every one of them down until we find our trigger.”

The remainder of the team obviously had the same idea. They were already interviewing the crowd and asking to see the contents of their pockets.

As the camper crumbled beneath the roaring flames, the noise died down enough for me to hear one of the onlookers protesting as Gator tried to search him. The Cajun patois was impossible to understand, but there was no way to misinterpret the man’s meaning.

As Gator backed away, Kodiak stepped behind the man and planted a boot in the bend of his knee, sending the Cajun to the ground. Gator moved back toward his suspect, and Mongo stepped beside the downed man to discourage any of his buddies from coming to the man’s rescue.

Gator turned out the guy’s pockets and shook his head. He scooped up the treasure the man had worked so hard to protect, then tossed the find into the bayou and turned to me. “It was a crack pipe and a couple baggies of dope.”

I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Did anybody call the sheriff?” Heads shook, and I asked, “Why not?”

Somebody said, “What da sheriff gon’ do, him? He ain’t gots no fire truck.”

“Speaking of fire trucks,” I said, “does anyone know why the volunteer fire department didn’t show up?”

The same reaction came, and I grew more frustrated with every passing second.

Turning back to the diminishing flame where the camper had been, I said, “Go ahead and put it out and see if you can find any remains.”

Shawn went back to work, and I said, “Does anybody know where Kenneth LePine is?”

“Out huntin’ sinker logs. Dat be all he do, him. Pull up dem logs and stack dem dollars. Dat be all.”

I spun until I found Cecilia standing next to Gator. “Where’s your uncle?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, but he ain’t pulling logs without me.”

“His truck’s gone. You must have some idea where he’d go.”

“Maybe he went to town. I’m not his keeper. He calls me when he needs me to pull logs for him. Other than that, I see him a couple times a week.”

Shawn’s skill behind the nozzle had the camper fire drowned out by the time I ran out of questions to ask. He approached the remains and kicked through the still-smoking debris.

He met my gaze and shook his head. “Nobody was in there.”

I called Disco. “Any squirters?”

He said, “We didn’t see anyone running away, but one of those fancy Caravans with the probe was orbiting at forty-five hundred until we showed up.”

“Come on down and pick us up. We’re done here.” I turned back to the crowd. “Are any of you volunteer firemen?”

A smaller man poked his head around a few people in front of him. “Me do, but only sometime, me. Dem trucks ain’t no good.”

“So, what do you do when somebody’s house catches on fire?”

He looked around as if the answer were obvious. “We do dis. What else we gonna do?”

Every time someone opened their mouth, I felt like I was falling deeper down the rabbit hole with the looking glass well astern.

Disco and Gun Bunny planted the Huey a few hundred feet away in a cloud of sand and dust.

I grabbed Cecilia’s arm as the rest of the team headed for the helo. “Keep calling your uncle until he answers. This was no accident. You know it as well as I do. Call Gator the second you hear from Kenneth.”

She nodded and grimaced as if fighting back tears. “What if he never answers?”

“Does he ever disappear for any length of time?”

“No, he never goes far, and I don’t ever remember him being gone overnight.”

“Think of a list of places he’s been in the past year. I want you to hit every one of those places and ask if anyone’s seen him. If they have, you call Gator. Got it?”

She stared at the ground. “He’s not going to be at any of those places, is he?”

“No, probably not. I suspect whoever torched his house and camper took him and his truck, but we’ve got to cover all the bases. Why didn’t you call the sheriff?”

“I’ll call him now,” she said, “but he’ll want to talk to you, and I’ve got a feeling you don’t have a good answer for why you’re flying around in a military helicopter and putting out fires down here in the bayou.”

“Give him Gator’s number. We haven’t done anything wrong, so I’m not afraid of the sheriff’s questions.” I took a step closer to her. “Do you know any of those people who turned out to watch?”

She studied the crowd. “Yeah. I know all of ’em. They’re Cajuns. They love to drink, fight, and get loud, but none of them are firebugs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How about desperate for money?”

She laughed. “Good luck finding anybody within fifty miles of here who isn’t. Whoever you are, Chase, you’re way outside your backyard. When and if the sheriff agrees to get involved, you can bet the strangers from out of town are going to be the target of his investigation. Uncle Ken never hurt anybody, so nobody around here has any reason to burn down his house…if you can even call it a house.”

“That may be true,” I said, “but those floating body parts showed up a long time before we did.”

She said, “Just don’t expect this to play out like an episode of Law and Order on TV. We’ve got a sheriff, one deputy, two constables, and one police truck. That’s all we’ve got to protect and serve down here. We tend to look after each other.”

I turned to face the pile of smoking rubble that had been her uncle’s house an hour before. “It doesn’t look like anyone was watching out for Kenneth.”

We flew back to the ship, and I headed straight for the CIC.

Skipper made a terrible face when I walked through the door. “You smell like a fire.”

“Imagine that,” I said. “Were you listening in?”

“I was. Is everybody all right?”

“We’re good, but Kenneth LePine is missing and homeless. He may not know either of those things yet, but if he’s still alive, I doubt he’s very comfortable.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“The first thing I’m going to do is get a shower. Where’s Anya?”

She recoiled. “Are you planning on showering with Anya?”

“Not hardly. I just want to make sure she knows why we didn’t take her with us.”

Skipper said, “I was wondering that myself. So, why didn’t you take her?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll come up with something by the time I find her.”

* * *

I walked through the hatch to my cabin to find a mane of long blonde hair cascading from the edge of my bunk. I gave the bed a kick. “What are you doing in my room?”

She rolled over and smiled. “I did not expect you to be back so soon. I was enjoying moment of quiet and pillow that smells like you.”

“Get out. I’m going to take a shower, and you’re not involved.”

“I can wait here for you.”

“No, you can’t. Get out. I’ll come find you when I get out of the shower and dressed. I need your brain.”

“My brain is all?”

“Yes, your brain is all I need. Now, get out and meet me in the CIC in twenty minutes.”

Burning my clothes would’ve made them look and smell better, but instead, I shoved them into the recycling system aboard the Lori Danielle . I had no idea how the system worked, and I didn’t care as long as the burnt odor disappeared.

I broke the captain’s three-minute-shower rule, and it was glorious. Nothing about what was happening in the backwater bayous of South Louisiana made any sense, and I wanted nothing more than to pack up, head back to Bonaventure, and pretend I never heard of floating body parts that alligators wouldn’t eat. As much as I wanted to walk away, my obligation to my friends, Earl and Kenny LePine, wouldn’t let me. I owed it to them to get to the bottom of the mystery, and maybe, just maybe, mend the rift between Kenny and his father—if that were possible.

Like all good things, the shower had to end, and I had to plunge myself back into the real world…if anything about the world of the bayou qualified as real.

* * *

When I made my entrance into the combat information center, Weps glanced up from the weapons station, and I realized I’d failed to tell the captain it was no longer necessary to stand at the ready.

I lifted the handset that would immediately ring on the bridge, and Captain Sprayberry answered quickly. “Bridge, Captain.”

“It’s Chase in the CIC. Everyone is safely back aboard.”

He said, “I know. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to report in. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to secure from general quarters if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Touchy tonight, aren’t we?”

“Not touchy. I just don’t like leaving my crew on high alert while the away team commander takes a fifteen-minute shower.”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to them.”

“Sure, you will,” he said, and the line went dead.

Seconds later, his announcement came over the speaker system. “All hands, this is the captain. Secure from general quarters. You can thank Mr. Fulton for the prolonged state of readiness. That is all.”

The weapons systems officer shut down his console and headed for wherever he goes when he’s not shooting at someone.

Skipper said, “You look—and smell—better. I hope you threw your clothes overboard.”

Anya spun in her seat and looked up at me with eyes that could melt iron, and I wished I were immune. But no man is that strong.

“Okay, so, anyway. The fire. It was obviously arson. Kenneth’s truck is missing, and there was no sign of him in either his house or the camper. Speaking of the camper, it exploded well after the house fire was under control, and it wasn’t an accident.”

Skipper said, “I know. I debriefed Gator and Mongo while you were in the spa.”

“The spa? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shook a finger. “You know the three-minute-shower rule.”

I lowered my chin. “And you obviously don’t know the I-sign-the-paychecks exemption to that rule. Now, let’s talk about the fire.”

She said, “Any ideas who might’ve started it or where Kenneth might be?”

“I’ve got a theory on the first question. One of the Caravans operated by Flambeau Exploration was circling overhead when we arrived on scene. I’d like for you to do a deep dive into that company and get me every detail you can dig up.”

“I’m on it,” she said.

“And one other thing. Pull the file on the oil rig job we did. I can’t remember the owner’s name, but I want to talk to him. If anybody knows about the oil business down here, it’ll be him, and he owes me a favor.”