Free Rumble on the Bayou by Jana DeLeon Page B

shook her head in disgust. "Then we're right back where we started. I still can't help you track a ghost. And don't bother to tell me the sheriff said I have to. I could have told you that was a waste of time."
     
    Richard put one hand up in protest. "I know. I know. And that's why I've decided to give you some information, despite my agency's ruling on the matter. Realize, of course, that if anyone finds out I gave you this information, it would mean my job."
     
    Even though his words made sense, Dorie still wondered about his shift in attitude. Always suspicious, she couldn't quite put her finger on what caused the change. And it bothered her. "Is it worth the risk?" she probed, trying to find the answer to her question. "Why not just ask for reassignment?"
     
    His face grew hard and his lips tense. "Reassignment is not an option. This is my take-down. Period. I have my reasons and they're not open for discussion."
     
    Interesting, but not exactly the detail she was looking for. "Fine. I won't repeat anything you tell me in confidence, unless Joe is pulled into this, too. Then he has a right to the same information I do. That also goes for the sheriff. And I can vouch for both of them."
     
    Richard looked closely at her, but she steadily met his gaze. Apparently satisfied, he began his story. "The man I'm looking for is Shawn Roland. He's a deal-maker for the Hebert family out of New Orleans. The Heberts are the main suppliers of heroin for the New England area. They don't distribute, of course, just deliver. The New England families take care of distribution."
     
    "So you want to cut off the supply chain because that's more efficient than busting every drug dealer in New England? Makes sense."
     
    "Exactly. Since we knew Roland was connected with the Hebert family, we concentrated our investigation on New Orleans, thinking the drugs were coming in through the port at the mouth of the Mississippi."
     
    "But you didn't find anything?"
     
    Richard shook his head. "Not a thing. But we still felt the drugs were coming into the country through the Gulf of Mexico. We've been systematically checking all of the towns along the Gulf Coast. We just hadn't made it this far."
     
    "Then I ran the print."
     
    Richard nodded.
     
    Dorie stared at him for a moment. Something wasn't right. He hadn't told her everything, not that she'd expected him to. But she had the feeling there was something major missing from his explanation. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the man in front of her, but he avoided looking directly at her. "How long have you been chasing this Roland?"
     
    She saw his face flush slightly and knew she'd finally hit a nerve. This was one of the questions he'd been hoping she wouldn't ask. "Dick?" she asked again. "How long?"
     
    "Eight years," he said between clenched teeth.
     
    He still hadn't met her gaze, and she knew there was more to the story. "And before you?" She pushed harder. "How long has the agency been looking for this man?"
     
    He stared at the floor and mumbled something she couldn't quite make out.
     
    "What was that?" she asked.
     
    "Thirty-four years," he said with a sigh. "The agency has been trying to catch Shawn Roland for thirty-four years."
     
    "Jesus Christ, Dick!" Dorie shouted and jumped up from her chair. "That's longer than either one of us has been alive. And you people are supposed to be the best? Good God."
     
    Richard's facial features tightened. "The best men at the agency have been on this case. Unfortunately, Roland is superior at his job. He has no family, no friends and the only picture we have of him is from sixth grade, the last year he attended school."
     
    Dorie stopped pacing and stared at him. "Tell me more," she said, her curiosity piqued by this master criminal.
     
    "His father was a small-time pimp and pusher," he continued. "His mother was an addict and a prostitute. Both liked to slap Roland around when they got mad. Apparently, Roland wasn't