Murder in the Marsh by Ramsey Coutta Page B

I’d like to know what’s going on, but I guess I’ll have to worry about it later. We need to get on the road.”
    Rachel gave Daniel a hug and thanked him before they loaded into their vehicles. Just as she opened her car door, she heard the telephone ring inside her apartment. She asked Daniel to wait a minute. She thought it might be her parents. She quickly unlocked the front door and went in, while Daniel got out of his truck and waited by the front door.
    After about ten minutes, Rachel came out of the house. She had a decided look of concern on her face.
    “That was Mrs. LeBlanc. She said she still has not heard from her husband. She also said her son, Andre, is worse than he was yesterday. She didn’t want to move him without Claude’s help, but now she feels like she needs to get him to safety. She called to ask if we could help. She tried calling the Sheriff’s office, but they’ve been tied up with other issues.”
    “Sure, we can help. I’ve got my boat and it’s filled with gas. We can put in at Happy Jack and be at Grand Bayou in minutes. We’ll still have plenty of time to evacuate before the storm hits.”
    “Okay, I’ll call her and tell her we’re coming and to get ready.”
    A few minutes later, Rachel completed her call and affirmed Mrs. LeBlanc would be waiting on them
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Twelve
     
    Daniel and Rachel got into their vehicles, and drove out to the highway. The highway through Port Sulphur was packed with cars and buses heading north. Trucks were piled high with whatever household furnishings could be tied on. It seemed like every truck and SUV also pulled a boat or camper. Those who had departed from the lowest end of the parish, had already driven close to thirty miles just to Port Sulphur, and they still had another forty miles just to get out of the parish. A lot of larger semi-trucks, dump trucks, and other heavy equipment used in the parish oil industry also clogged the road slowing the evacuation. Overhead, helicopters shuttled oil workers from the offshore oil rigs inland to safety. Over the levee, out in the channel of the Mississippi River, Daniel and Rachel could see the large ocean going vessels heading south toward the mouth of the Mississippi. They would be safer at sea, than facing the prospect of being trapped in the narrow confines of the river. The whole parish seemed to be one great moving mass fleeing the storm.
    Entering traffic and heading north toward Happy Jack Marina, they could see that most of the homeowners had boarded their windows. The homes in Port Sulphur were not generally made of the sturdiest construction. Most were made entirely of wood and set on blocks a couple feet off the ground. It had been a long time since the parish last flooded, and few people remembered the devastation from earlier hurricanes. Less and less consideration was given when building homes over the years as to the potential effects of a direct hit by a hurricane, and the parish had grown lax in enforcing the regulations that did exist.
    It took Daniel and Rachel double the time to reach the Happy Jack turnoff than it normally would due to the slow moving traffic. Happy Jack Lane appeared deserted. The street was one of the poorest in Port Sulphur, and known for a high rate of illegal activity. The houses and trailers were ramshackle, and the residents seemed to resent the constant marina traffic that rumbled up and down the street. All the cars were gone and windows boarded up. A barking bulldog tied to a stake outside a trailer was left behind with a bowl of food and water and appeared to be the only sign of life.
    Daniel and Rachel pulled up and over the levee and down to the marina. Normally, scores of trucks with boat trailers would be parked near the boat ramp, but none were evident today. Only a single small truck was visible.
    It seemed like a perfectly normal day. A light breeze blew and a few scattered clouds