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“If not here, where would Ethan leave his airboat?” Remy mused. “Should we check out Dan and Simon’s places?”
“If Ethan’s airboat was the one that rammed me, would he moor it where anyone could see it?” Shelby looked around. “Maybe we should look in some of the coves close by.”
Remy steered the boat away from the dock and followed the shoreline into the nearest cove. It was empty, as well as the next three coves.
Remy turned the boat around, heading for Dan Fontenot’s place. “That boat has to have some damage from ramming yours. Could it be in a shop being repaired?”
“That’s a distinct possibility. The nearest boat repair shops are in Thibodaux.” Shelby pulled out her cell phone, looked up the numbers and called the first one. Shelby pressed the phone to her ear and waited.
A couple of moments later, she said, “This is Deputy Taylor from Bayou Mambaloa. Have you had an airboat brought in the past three days for repairs to the front end and hull?” She nodded. “I’ll wait.”
Remy picked up the pace, arriving at Dan Fontenot’s place while Shelby was still on hold.
Only one boat was tied to the dock, a small jon boat with a thirty-horsepower motor.
“No? Thank you for checking.” She ended the call, tried the next one with the same request and waited for the customer representative to get back to her.
Remy moved on to Simon Fontenot’s place. The little cottage perched on the edge of the bayou had a small dock with nothing tied to it.
“You did? Could you give me that boat's vehicle identification and registration numbers?” She put the cell phone on speaker and brought up a notes application. As the customer service representative fed her the VIN and registration numbers, Shelby keyed them into her notes.
While Shelby placed a call to the state department of motor vehicles, Remy headed back to Marceau’s Marina.
He was pulling up to the dock when Shelby ended the call and looked toward him. “The airboat at Bordeaux’s Best Boat Repairs is registered to Fontenot’s Fishing and Bayou Tours.”
“Just need to get to the boat repair shop and check out the damage.” Remy helped her out of the boat. They returned the keys to Mitch and hurried to Shelby’s truck.
“I’m going to give Sheriff Bergeron a heads up. He needs to be ready to bring Ethan in if we find the damage commensurate to what happened to my boat.”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll put the kibosh on your investigation?” Remy asked.
Shelby frowned. “You’re right. I’ll wait until we have proof.”
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the boat repair shop.
Shelby flashed her badge and asked to see the airboat belonging to the Fontenots.
The man at the desk escorted them to where the boat was parked on a trailer in the back parking lot.
One look and Remy knew. “This has to be the boat that hit you.”
Shelby closed her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Remy rested a hand on the small of her back.
She nodded. “I had a flash of memory.”
He waited for her to reveal what she’d remembered.
When she opened her eyes, she gave him a twisted grin. “I can’t force those memories out. The harder I try, the more elusive they are.” She clenched her fist, a fierce frown denting her forehead. “But there was a memory. An image of a boat coming right at me.”
“This one?” Remy asked.
“It happened so fast, and the memory is vague.” She shook her head. “It could have been.”
Shelby snapped photos of the airboat from all angles and took a photo of the VIN. She turned to the service attendant. “Don’t do anything with this boat until someone from the sheriff’s department gets back to you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the attendant said.
