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Bayou Justice
Robin Caroll


A body in the bayou. Alligator conservationist Coco LeBlanc knew real fear when she found a body in the clutches of her beloved beasts. Fear turned to horror when she saw that it was one of the Trahan clan–and he'd been shot in the back.Her ex-boyfriend, Luc Trahan, had dumped Coco two years ago when she refused to give up her family's centuries-old voodoo traditions, and he didn't know about her newfound faith. Now, as they and their families become prime suspects in the grisly crime, they'll have to work together to clear their names before the Cajun killer strikes again.









Bayou Justice

Robin Caroll








To Case…

for believing

for supporting

for encouraging

for loving.

Love Always,

RC




CONTENTS


ACKNOWLEDGMENT

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR




Acknowledgment


A book is a wonderful collaboration of many people. My heartfelt thanks to my editor, Krista Stroever, who used brilliant insight to make this book shine, and to my agent, Kelly Mortimer, who pained over each word with me and used up all her red pens in editing. Thank you both for giving me the chance to attain my heart’s desire and believing in this story.

My eternal gratitude to Colleen Coble. Without you, I wouldn’t have had the endurance and the “p” word to keep on. Your brainstorming, support, love, encouragement, and opening of doors in the publishing world for me kept me on the straight and narrow. I love ya!

I thank my wonderful critique partners for their help—Dineen Miller, Heather Diane Tipton, Ron Estrada, Camy Tang of the Story Sensei, and Ronie Kendig. The book wouldn’t make sense without these “slice and dicers”! Y’all are the absolute best! Thanks to Cheryl Wyatt for walking the journey with me.

Special thanks to my bestest bud, Tracey Aaron, and my sister-in-law, Lisa Burroughs, for reading every single word I write and not being afraid to tell me it’s not working. I love you!

Without the love and support of my family, I wouldn’t even be writing. My love and thanks to my parents, Joyce and Chuck Bridges—for all the times you’ve watched the grands so I could go to writing conferences, and for your encouragement; my sisters and brother, Cindy Pittman, Rebecca Harden, and Charles Burroughs—for commiserating with me and celebrating my successes; Krystina, Brandon, and Rachel—for thinking it’s cool their aunt talks to the voices in her head. I love you all so much and I thank y’all for coming on this ride with me.

A very special thanks to some of the most awesome prayer partners in the world, who have lifted up my writing and my life before the throne so many times. You ladies bless me daily! Big thanks to the members of ACFW, whose support and encouragement is the absolute best!

Finally, my most humble thanks to my daughters—Emily Carol, Remington Case, and Isabella Co-Ceaux—you girls are the reason I get up every morning and write. Each of you inspire me with your love and personality. I love each one of you so much—you are my most precious blessings from God.

All glory to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.




ONE


Humidity, the South’s great oppressor, seized the Louisiana bayou firmly by the throat. Late afternoon heat washed through the air in waves, turning and mixing to make the region downright sticky. CoCo LeBlanc wiped her brow and squinted, scanning the grassy shores. A living bulk shifted on the lush embankment, then the alligator stretched its mouth, his jagged teeth glistening in the late afternoon sun. Moodoo appeared healthy. CoCo stared, smiling at the twelve-foot reptile. She let out a long sigh. It’d been a rough couple of weeks, nursing the prehistoric beast back from the brink of death. Stupid poachers—would they never learn they couldn’t hunt alligators anytime they got the notion? If she ever caught them…

Moodoo waddled along the banks, then surged his large body into the bayou. CoCo marked his location on her tracking sheet and then fired up the airboat’s engine. She settled into the single seat before turning the steering wheel to head back to the house. Picking up speed, the airboat skimmed over the murky bayou. Drops of water jetted up, spraying CoCo’s face and arms. She leaned closer to the edge of the boat, welcoming the cool mist. July in Lagniappe meant misery, no matter how you chopped it.

She banked the airboat and tied off on the knotty root of a live oak tree that had survived for several centuries. Stepping to the ground, she let the air pockets bubble up around her feet before striding toward the house with sure steps. Her hair was plastered to the nape of her neck, and her thin cotton tank top clung to her back. Too bad her tan lines were so messed up because she couldn’t wear the same style shirt to work every day.

A man’s angry voice burst through the cicadas’ chirped song. “You get out or I’ll have the sheriff force you out.”

“You get on, now, Beau Trahan. Before I put a gris-gris on you,” her grandmother replied, her voice quivering.

CoCo recognized that tone and quickened her pace. What now? She rounded the corner of the old plantation home to find Mr. Beau and Grandmere facing off on the veranda. She took the stairs two at a time, the wood creaking in protest. “What’s going on here?”

The businessman in slacks and shirt, complete with powerred tie, faced her and glared. “Your grandmother seems to think she’s above the law. As usual.”

“Get off my land, you old goat.” Grandmere’s deep green eyes narrowed to slits and she took a step in his direction.

“It’s not your land, vielle.” He wagged his finger in front of Grandmere’s face.

Not a good move on his part to call her an old woman, not good at all. CoCo shifted between the dueling elders, popping her hands on her hips. “What’s this all about, Grandmere?” She turned to her grandmother, but kept track of Mr. Beau from the corner of her eye.

“He says he owns this house.” Her grandmother waved a crumpled piece of paper. “Says he’s evicting us. Just threats. All little men like him can do is threaten.”

“Read the notice, you bat. Marcel signed this land over to me years ago when he couldn’t pay his gambling debt. It’s all legal—I drew up the papers myself.” Beau Trahan, tall and distinguished as a retired politician should look, crossed his arms over his puffed-up chest.

Sounded like something her late grandfather would have done.

CoCo and her sisters had moved in with their grandparents thirteen years ago when their parents had died in a car accident. Grandpere died five years ago, after CoCo had returned to Lagniappe from college. The last years of his life had been littered with gambling and depression.

CoCo pried the paper from her grandmother’s fist and scanned the eviction notice, chewing her bottom lip. Thirty days, that’s all they had to save their home. She squared her shoulders and set her jaw, piercing him with her stare. “You’ve served your notice, Mr. Trahan. I’ll contact my attorney immediately, and he’ll get back to you regarding this matter.”

“Not going to do you any good, young lady. The law’s on my side.” He directed his words to CoCo, but his eyes remained locked on Grandmere. Even in the stifling heat, not a single strand of gray hair moved out of place.

“The spirits are on mine.” Grandmere wore that hazy expression she got when riled to the point of pulling out her voodoo paraphernalia.

Oh no, not the spirits again. CoCo let out a deep sigh and gripped her grandmother’s shoulder, digging her fingers into Grandmere’s bony frame. “Please leave, Mr. Trahan.”

“Thirty days, Marie. That’s it. And only because the law stipulates I have to give you that much time.” Beau spun around and stomped to his pristine red Cadillac. He slammed the door, revved the engine, then peeled out down the dirt-and-gravel driveway.

CoCo waited until the rooster tails of dust disappeared before turning back to her grandmother. “Did Grandpere sign over the deed to this house?”

Grandmere’s eyebrows shot up over her fading green eyes. “Not that he ever told me. Beau Trahan, that cooyon is only trying to cause trouble, ma chère. I’ll handle him.” Her arthritis-gnarled hands grabbed the handle of the screen door.

Shoving her foot against the base of the door, CoCo tapped her grandmother’s shoulder. The blue veins were apparent under Grandmere’s thin skin. “No voodoo, Grandmere. I mean it.”

“Just because you’ve turned your back on the old ways, doesn’t mean the rest of us have.” Grandmere shot a look that could freeze fireballs, her jade eyes turning into icicles. “You’ll see. You were wrong to drop your training, CoCo. You’re a natural.”

Biting her tongue, CoCo moved her foot and let her grandmother enter. The argument stayed as constant as the bayou’s summers. Ever since she’d come to Christ two years ago, she’d walked away cold from voodoo, black magic and all that her grandmother had been teaching her. Why couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—her family open their eyes and see the truth? Didn’t they realize their eternal lives were at stake?

A breeze stirred the hot air, teasing the edges of the eviction notice. CoCo shook off her guilty conscience and marched inside the house. She’d deal with her family’s salvation later. Right now, she had to find an attorney. Preferably a great one.

For a moment she considered calling her middle sister, Alyssa, up in Shreveport. Just as suddenly as the thought scampered across her mind, she disregarded the idea. Alyssa wasn’t interested in the pressing issues happening in Lagniappe. As usual, the responsibility fell to CoCo.

The kitchen had always before been a place of soothing with its bright yellow paint on the walls and cabinets adding a sunny glow to the room. Despite the lack of updated appliances, the kitchen welcomed. She glanced at the clock—4:10. She needed to hurry before businesses closed for the day. She grabbed the Vermilion parish phone book, dropped into the kitchen chair and flipped through the business pages. Not much choice of attorneys. All the last names looked familiar, but none of the first names rang any bells. CoCo closed her eyes and jabbed her finger on the middle of the page.

Trahan Law Firm

Oh, but no. This wouldn’t do.

Lord, could You give me a little direction here? She flipped to the other side of the page and repeated her random-selection process.

Dwayne Williams, Attorney

That sounded promising. A whole lot better than anything to do with a Trahan. She pushed back her chair and lifted the cordless phone off the counter. Punching with more force than necessary, CoCo dialed the number listed in the phone book.

On the second ring, a chipper female voice answered. “Law offices of Dwayne Williams. How may I help you?”

“My name is CoCo LeBlanc and I need to speak with an attorney as soon as possible.” CoCo chewed the inside of her mouth.

“Yes, ma’am. Just a moment, and I’ll connect you with Mr. Williams.”

Elevator music sounded over the line. Pretty slick, getting to talk to a lawyer on the first call. Maybe because it was so close to quitting time?

“Dwayne Williams.” His voice sounded deep, full of timbre.

“Mr. Williams, my name is CoCo LeBlanc and I need a lawyer. A man, Beau Trahan, has just served my grandmother and me, with an eviction notice on our home.”

“Did you say Beau Trahan?”

“Yes.” She pushed the bangs from her forehead. “Is that a problem?” Great, leave it to her to pick out an attorney who probably sat in Mr. Beau’s back politician pocket.

“No, not at all.” The sound of papers crinkling rustled in the background. “I can work you in tomorrow morning at nine to discuss your case. Is that a good time for you?”

Fast appointment, too. “That’ll be perfect. I’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone, staring at it, hard and long. Jumbled thoughts bounced off the edges of her mind as she worried her bottom lip.

Did she dare call him? It’d been two years since they’d spoken. Did she want to open up all that hurt and anger? Yet, maybe he could talk some sense into his grandfather.

Jerking the phone up again before she could change her mind, she punched the number she knew by heart, still knew as well as her own. Would Luc Trahan answer?

Luc Trahan strode up and down the length of the front porch, glancing down the long driveway lined with oak trees and then back to the wood planks beneath him.

“You’re going to wear out the veranda if you don’t stop pacing,” Felicia said.

He glanced at his younger sister, sitting properly in her wheelchair. “I’m just ready to get this over with.”

“He’s gonna blow, you know that, yes?”

“I do. That’s why I need to get it over with as soon as he gets here.” Luc turned and began the next lap. How could he break the news gently to his grandfather? He shook his head. There was no easy way. Felicia had hit the nail on the head— Beau Trahan would blow a gasket when Luc told him that he had no intention of taking over the managerial reins of D’Queue Casino. Luc enjoyed his job as a freelance consultant for an accounting firm and had no desire to go elsewhere.

“Luc, look at me.” His sister’s soft voice never failed to calm him.

He did. Her big blue eyes twisted his heart.

“You’re doing the right thing, no matter what Grandfather and Mom think.”

“I know. I just hate to disappoint either of them.” He dropped onto the porch swing adjacent to her wheelchair. “He wants this so badly for me.”

“It’s not what you want. It goes against everything you believe in.”

“And Mom…”

Felicia smiled. “Oh, she’ll moan and grumble, only because she’s scared of him.” She touched the back of his hand, caressing reassurance into his very being. “He isn’t going to kick us out like Mom thinks he will.”

“What if he does?” His gaze rested on her sweet face.

So sweet, so gentle—so unfair cerebral palsy had attacked her frail body. At only twenty-eight years old, she was confined to a wheelchair, one leg too weak for her to even walk across the room. Would Grandfather kick them out of the house if Luc didn’t abide by his wishes? That could never happen—Felicia needed the stability of their home and the care their grandfather’s money provided.

“Stop worrying so much, you.” She gave his hand a final squeeze before dropping her own back in her lap. “He’s threatened Mom with that for years now, yet he’s never given us the boot. He’s all talk.”

“I wish I could be as sure. This just might be what calls his bluff.”

Felicia flashed her full-tooth smile. “With all his ranting and raving over me and Frank, he still didn’t follow through on his threats. We’ll be fine.” She stared out into the yard. “When did he say he would be here?”

“He told Mom he was on his way when he called about ten minutes ago.”

His cell phone rang, the chords to “Dixie” playing loud and clear. He snapped if off his belt, flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. “Hello.”

“Luc.”

Just his name—that’s all it took for his heart to stutter. Her sultry voice always did make his pulse race. His memory slammed the image of her curly black hair, dark eyes with specks of green dancing around the irises, and tanned face to the forefront of his mind. Her strong French heritage had blessed her appearance, that much was certain.

He swallowed back the emotions clogging his throat. “CoCo.”

“Your grandfather just left here.” Her breathing came across the line as ragged, hitching.

“What was he doing at your place?” Luc shook his head at Felicia’s inquiring stare. What could the old man be up to now?

“Serving us an eviction notice.” His ex-fiancée’s voice quivered. He recognized that trait—she barely had control over her emotions.

“An eviction notice? What’re you talking about?” Luc stood and paced again.

“Just what I said. He hand-delivered an eviction notice to Grandmere today, right before I got home from work.”

His gut clenched. Work. Her work. He gritted his teeth. The memory of yet another reason they broke up slammed into his mind.

“Luc, are you listening?”

“Yeah. I just don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” Her throaty sigh over the line tightened the knot holding his stomach hostage. “I wanted you to know what he’s up to, and to tell you that I have a meeting with an attorney first thing in the morning.”

Lawyers, already? What exactly had his grandfather done? He ran a hand over his hair. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I’m not going to battle him without legal counsel.”

No, CoCo wouldn’t back down from any fight. He knew that all too well. Her personality wouldn’t let her roll over and play dead.

“So, why are you calling me?”

“I don’t really know.” Her voice changed, moving into the confrontational tone he also recognized. “I thought you should be aware. I’m not going to lie down and take your grandfather’s bullying. I intend to fight him with everything I can.”

“Curses, cunjas and hexes, CoCo?” He could have bitten off his tongue for letting that slip out. The pain was still raw, even after two years of not being together.

She snorted. “Some things never change. I made a mistake in calling you, Luc. You’re too much like the old man to see reason.”

Ouch, that stung. “I’m sor—”

“Consider yourself warned. My family will fight you Trahans.”

The disconnecting click cut loud in his ear. He held it a minute longer, not wanting to believe she’d hung up on him. Even when he’d ended their relationship and walked away, he’d never hung up on her.

Lord, why can’t I control my tongue?

“Was that CoCo?”

He placed the phone back on his belt clip and stared at his sister. “Yeah.”

She practically bounced in her chair. “What did she want?” Hope of his and CoCo’s reconciliation glimmered in her eyes.

He hated to disappoint her, but any hope of that had just gone down like the setting sun. Just as it had when his father had died and he’d realized he couldn’t marry CoCo LeBlanc. “To let me know Grandfather served her with an eviction notice.”

Felicia’s eyes, already round, grew as large as Confederate coins. “What? When?”

“Just now, apparently.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no. What’s Grandfather thinking?”

A rumble on the road caused them both to stare down the driveway. Sure enough, their grandfather’s Caddy sped along the dirt road.

“I don’t know. I’m guessing we’re about to find out.”

Grandfather slammed the door of his precious car, ran a hand over his thinning hair and then strode up the stairs. A smile danced on his face, a rare sight. “Luc, Felicia.” He gave them a brief nod, not breaking stride as he headed for the door.

Lord, I don’t know what to say. I can’t antagonize him, yet I can’t help him either without knowing what’s going on.

“Grandfather,” Luc began, staring down at the porch. His grandfather’s shoes didn’t even have a coat of dust covering them. Dirt ran in fear from Beau Trahan.

“Yes?” His grandfather glanced over his shoulder. “What is it, boy?”

“I just got a call from CoCo LeBlanc. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Chuckling, Grandfather let his hand fall from the door handle and then moved to sit on the porch swing. “Little lady already called you, huh? Trying to sweet-talk you into getting me to change my mind, I guess.” He laughed and slapped his thigh. “Hope you told her you weren’t buying into her feminine wiles again.”

Luc shifted his weight from one foot to the other, despising himself for feeling like a disobedient teenager. “What’re you doing?”

“Demanding what’s mine, of course.” His grandfather’s eyes set hard in his chiseled face.

“An eviction notice on the LeBlanc’s property?” Luc shook his head. “What’s up with that?”

“Marcel LeBlanc signed that deed over to me years ago to cover a gambling debt to the casino. I’ve been really nice, not making them move. Now that I’m retiring, letting you step into my shoes, I have to move out of the penthouse. Since I don’t want to make your momma and sister here move out, I’m claiming my property.”

Guilt nudged against Luc’s chest, but he picked his battles one at a time. “You can’t just evict them, Grandfather. Where will they go? Their family’s lived in that house since before the Civil War.”

“Not my problem, son.” His grandfather studied him. “You aren’t still sweet on that little swamp witch, are you?”

“I just don’t think it’s right to evict them.”

His grandfather shook his head as he pushed to his feet. “You’re too soft, Luc. You’ll have to toughen up to be manager at the casino.”

Luc leaned against the porch rail. Maybe he appeared casual, even though his insides had turned as mushy as quicksand. Dear God, help me make him understand.

Felicia gave a slight tilt of her head. “I need to get inside. It’s too hot out here.” She pushed the control on the automatic wheelchair. Luc moved and opened the door for her. She gave him an encouraging smile as she rolled into the house. He let the screen door bang behind her.

His grandfather hit him with a hard glare, his hazel eyes not dimmed by the years. “You got something else to say to me?”

“About being too soft to be casino manager…”

Grandfather let out a loud laugh. “Don’t you worry, son. I’ll help thicken up your skin.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t think I can do it. I just don’t want the job.”

“What?” His grandfather’s eyes bugged bigger than a bullfrog’s.

“I don’t believe in gambling, Grandfather. You know that. I never said I wanted to follow in your footsteps.” Luc let out a slow breath. “I love being a consultant, and don’t want to change jobs.”

His grandfather jumped to his feet. “I’m not believing this. After all my hard work, the years I put in there to get you in position to take over, I can’t—”

“I never said I wanted you to do any of that. You just assumed. I’m perfectly content where I am.”

The shout Grandfather emitted made Luc jump. “I don’t care what you want. You’ll take over at the casino. And that’s final.”

Luc drew up to his full six-foot-three, towering a good four inches over his grandfather, and stared into the old man’s eyes. “No, I won’t. I’m staying as a freelance consultant.”

“You will or else.” Grandfather stood toe-to-toe with him.

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll not only kick you all out in the street, but I’ll publicly disown you. You’ll be dead in this town.”




TWO


The morning sun split the blue skies, nearly blinding CoCo with its brightness. She cut her gaze through the Jeep’s windshield, over to the front door of the law office of Dwayne Williams for about the fortieth time in the past ten minutes. No sign of activity. She checked her watch again—8:01, still too early to show up for her nine o’clock appointment.

“I don’t understand why I had to come.” Grandmere hadn’t stopped complaining since they left the house. “I told you, I can take care of Beau Trahan.”

God, can I get a little help here? CoCo clenched the steering wheel and leaned into the blast of air conditioning. As if that could cool the frustration burning in her. “Because we’re going to do this legally.”

“My way is legal.”

“No, it isn’t,” CoCo said. “I don’t want to hear anymore about the traditions of old. Just this once, let me handle things. Okay, Grandmere?”

Her grandmother huffed and rolled her aged eyes but remained silent. She turned her attention out the window.

Hauling in a deep breath, CoCo closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Fatigue weighed down her very soul, and keeping up the long-standing argument with Grandmere wore her out even more. Sleep had flickered just out of reach last night. And it was all Luc Trahan’s fault.

She’d managed to keep the wall she’d erected around her heart intact for two years. Two years! And with one measly phone conversation, it had begun to crumble. CoCo stared into the blazing sun. She wouldn’t allow Luc to worm his way back into her heart. Not after he’d left her dangling in the wind the way he had—right after he’d proposed. He’d broken her heart once…she wouldn’t let him close enough to crush it for good.

“It’s about nine. What’re we waiting for?”

CoCo snapped out of her reprieve and glanced over at the door to the law office. The blinds were now opening. “Guess we can go.” She killed the engine and slipped out of the car, rushing around to the passenger side to assist her grandmother.

“I’m not old and decrepit,” Grandmere snapped as she shrugged off CoCo’s hand. “Despite what Beau Trahan thinks.”

Ignoring the challenge in her grandmother’s tone, she led the way to the lawyer’s office. She’d grown tired of arguing with Grandmere over the past two years—to the point she’d avoid any further confrontation if at all possible. Opening the door, she smiled as the blast of frigid air hit her face. Just the walk across the parking lot had made her hot and sticky. She knew her face had to be beet-red, despite her tan.

“Good morning. Ms. LeBlanc?” the perky receptionist sitting behind the front desk asked.

CoCo nodded. “Yes. I have an appointment with Mr. Williams.”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s ready for you now.” She stood and walked around the desk. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the conference room.”

Their footfalls thumped softly on the deeply padded carpet as they followed the receptionist down the hall. Light paneling shone beneath the overhead track lighting. She swung open a door, revealing a long mahogany table and large windows overlooking the grassy area behind the building.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or a glass of water?” She waved them into the room while she hovered at the doorway.

“We’re fine, merci.” CoCo pulled out a plush chair on rollers for her grandmother.

“Mr. Williams will be with you shortly.” The receptionist pulled the door behind her when she left.

Grandmere sat and glanced around the room. “This lawyer looks pricey, ma chère. It’d be easier if you’d just let me take care of Beau in my way.”

The door swung open, saving CoCo from having to think of a response. A tall man in a business suit strode inside. His hair, black as the bayou bottom, contrasted against the chocolate color of his skin. “You must be CoCo LeBlanc. I’m Dwayne Williams.”

He gave her a solid handshake. Her spirits soared—Grandpere had always said you could trust a man with a firm grip. “This is my grandmother, Marie LeBlanc.”

Grandmere stood quickly and extended her hand. “Mr. Williams.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. LeBlanc.” He straightened and waved them both to the chairs. “Please, sit.” He moved to the chair across the table from them and sat.

“Now, tell me what Mr. Trahan served you,” Mr. Williams said, steepling his fingers over the legal pad and pen sitting on the glossy table.

Digging the paper out of her purse, CoCo’s hands trembled slightly. She set her jaw and slid the eviction notice across the table to him. “This is what he hand-delivered to us yesterday.” Why were her palms sweating? As casually as possible, she wiped her hands on her jeans.

He scanned the paper and then lifted his pen over his legal pad. “Mrs. LeBlanc, is it possible that what Mr. Trahan states is true?” He tapped the pen against the paper. “Could your husband have signed over the deed to your property?”

“Beau Trahan is a lying, two-bit scum. Marcel never signed over any property deed—not willingly. Beau did something underhanded—I just know it. Probably told my Marcel he was signing something totally different.” Grandmere’s eyes hardened around the edges.

CoCo patted her grandmother’s hand. “Mr. Williams, I—”

“Please, call me Dwayne.”

She smiled. “Dwayne, I’ve lived with my grandparents for thirteen years, and this business about signing over the deed has never been mentioned before.”

“It’s easy enough to check out. If this did happen, there’ll be a claim on file down at the courthouse. A matter of public record.”

“So, what do we do?” CoCo held her breath and waited for his reply.

Dwayne sat straight in his chair. “I’ll be honest with you. The main reason I took this case was because it involved Beau Trahan. I’m investigating him in an unrelated issue.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, pausing before dropping the pen. “I’m inclined to believe Mrs. LeBlanc.”

“That Mr. Beau had my grandfather sign something he didn’t understand?”

“Yes.” He held up a hand. “I’m not accusing Mr. Trahan of anything—not yet—but I can see something like that happening.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Yes, it is. However, I’ll have to research it more fully. I’ll start by going to the courthouse and filing a motion against this eviction notice. At the very least, that should buy us an additional sixty to ninety days.”

“And then what?” How could they prove Beau Trahan pulled such an underhanded scam on her grandfather?

“What we discover will determine how we’ll proceed.”

“Mr. Williams,” Grandmere interrupted, “your words are all good, but what’s this gonna cost us?”

He smiled, his white teeth flashing in contrast to his smooth, black skin. “If you’re interested in me representing you in this matter, how about a one-hundred-dollar retainer and a balance of nine-hundred dollars?”

CoCo grabbed her purse. “That sounds fine. Should I pay that retainer now?” A thousand dollars to make this whole thing go away sounded a lot cheaper than the fee she’d imagined on the drive over. Thank You for Your provision, Lord.

“You can pay my secretary on your way out.” Dwayne smiled again. “I’ll need to get some more information from you before I can proceed.”

Luc ran a caressing touch over his saxophone as he placed it back in its case. Playing the horn always brought him inner peace. Not as much as his daily prayer, but for midafternoon it held its own. Now that he’d finished the big consulting job he’d been working on for the past month, he had two weeks free. Felicia’s wheelchair bumped against the sitting-room doorframe. He swiveled to stare at her.

“He didn’t mean it.” She maneuvered her chair across the gleaming wood floor.

“I think he did.” He straightened, lifting his sax case.

“He’ll calm down. You’ll see.”

How he wished he could believe her. “I need to find him, talk to him. Try to make him understand how I feel.”

“Luc, when has he ever cared about what any of us feel?” Big tears welled in her crystal blue eyes, and she ducked her head.

“Hey.” He set the case on the floor and crossed the room to squat before her. “What’d he say to you?” He patted her bare knees.

“Nothing.” She sniffed and wiped away her tears.

“Then why are you crying? Come on, Boo, when have you ever not been able to tell me everything?” He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, a trick he’d used to cheer her up since they were children.

She let out a small giggle. “I talked to Frank this morning.”

“And?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“It seems Grandfather paid him a little visit yesterday.” She hiccupped. “He told Frank to s-s-stay away from me if he didn’t want to end up in f-f-financial ruin.” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes.

Luc let out a low whistle. “He sure was a busy man yesterday.” He held his sister’s hands. “What’d Frank say?”

The smile she flashed sparkled and brightened the entire room, even more so than the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall. “Frank said he told Grandfather that he could drop dead.”

“Good for him.” Frank Thibodeaux seemed to be good for his sister. He’d never seen her look happier.

“Luc, you know how Grandfather is. He’ll set out to ruin Frank if I keep seeing him.”

“He can’t hold us under his thumb forever.” Luc straightened, staring out the large windows overlooking the bayou. The afternoon sun reflected off the water, casting prisms of light and color across the marshland.

He turned back to stare at his sister. The large room appeared to swallow her small form. The white paint on every wall in the house screamed purity, always reminding him of Felicia. “You just keep seeing Frank if he makes you happy. I’ll figure something out.”

“Frank’s so mad, it scares me.”

Luc glanced at his sister, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Scares you how?”

“He’s so angry over the way Grandfather treats me. He says Grandfather isn’t allowing me to get new and inventive treatments that could maybe help me. He says there’s a surgery that could let me walk.”

His sister shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. All my doctors are ‘Grandfather selected.’ I’ve never questioned it before because he’s paid all the medical bills. If what Frank suggests is true…”

Luc ground his teeth. “We can look into it.”

“How? Grandfather controls everything we do, who’s in our lives, how we live.”

“And it’s going to stop now.”

She stared up at him with such hope and trust in her eyes it almost physically hurt him. “How? What can we do?” She lowered her head. “Maybe Mom’s right. We should be grateful for all he does for us.” Her voice cracked on a sob.

“Stop that. It isn’t true and you know it.”

“I think Grandfather’s threats have pushed Frank into making a decision.”

“What kind of decision?”

Felicia stared back up at him. This time, her smile twinkled in her eyes. “I think he’s going to propose soon.”

“That’s great, Boo.” Happiness filled Luc’s chest, but a bitter sting of remorse fell like lead to his gut. At one time, he, too, had been thinking of marriage, had even presented a ring. A life with CoCo. The knife in his heart twisted at the thought of what he’d had…and what he’d thrown away. If only he’d been able to forgive….

“I’m scared if he asks me and I accept, Grandfather will retaliate.”

“That settles it. I’m going to find him and talk reason to him right now.” Luc lifted his case.

Felicia’s hand stopped him. “What are you going to do if he won’t listen to you?”

“Then I’ll think of something else. If I have to, I can move away and get a more permanent job, buy a house for you and Mom. With this last job, my reputation is solid enough now that any accounting agency would be thrilled to hire me on full time.”

“Don’t be silly. I know you prefer consulting. If Frank proposes, then you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want to be a burden anymore.”

“You’re not a burden. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Her hand moved to squeeze his. “You shouldn’t have to fight my battles as well as your own.”

“It’s high time someone stood up to him.”

“And you think that person is you?”

He squeezed her hand back. “Who better?” With God’s guidance.

The purple hue of the setting sun nearly stole CoCo’s breath. She jerked her gaze from the window and laced her boots with haste. Only a few minutes of daylight remained, and she still needed to track two of the gators on her list. If she could prove they were multiplying at a less-than-normal rate, she could get more grant money for research from the Wetlands Preservation Center. And if her theory was correct, it could reduce the limits during hunting season. If only the cooyon from the State Wildlife and Fisheries would listen to her explanation.

Hunters…just the thought of them made her spine turn to grits. They weren’t supposed to hunt any of the yellow-tagged gators, yet four were still unaccounted for since a month ago. Tracking these reptiles was her life’s work—why she’d gone to college and graduated with a degree in environmental protection. She’d loved the bayous and swamps she called home and felt compelled to do her part to save them. She still did.

CoCo shut her bedroom door and whisked down the hall. Her fingers itched to fire up her airboat and get on the water. She made the turn at the top of the stairs, gripped the banister and then took the first step.

Whispers halted her movement. Coming from her baby sister’s room.

She backtracked up the step she’d just taken and moved to Tara’s door. Pressing her ear against the wood, CoCo held her breath and listened.

She recognized the mumbled words. An incantation of a gris-gris. Icy fingers tickled down her spine.

Jerking the door open, CoCo glared at her sister.

Tara sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, a voodoo doll held in one hand, red paint dripping from a brush in the other. The doll already had two streaks across its body.

“What’re you doing?” CoCo placed her hands on her hips.

Her sister didn’t even bother to try to hide her actions. Instead, she lifted her chin and met CoCo’s stare. “What you’re too scared to do.”

CoCo inhaled through her nose, biting back the acidic retort stinging her tongue. “Tara, I’ve told you not to do this.” “I’ve told you—I’m twenty-four years old and you can’t tell me what to do anymore.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. Being outside in the summer had lightened it with streaks from the sun. “Besides, you’re just mad because Grandmere pays attention to me now.”

Guilt at Tara’s even being exposed to voodoo nearly strangled her. “That’s not it at all. You know better. She’s only teaching you because I refused to learn anymore.”

“You’re just jealous.” Tara’s words might have sounded angry, but CoCo detected the hurt behind them.

“Oh, Tara.” She sat on the foot of the bed, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at loose threads in the pink coverlet. “I stopped learning because I know it’s wrong.”

“Because the god you found told you it’s a sin.” Tara leapt off her bed and set the doll and brush on the oak desk. “Goody for you, but you aren’t going to take this away from me. I won’t let you.”

CoCo fought to get her legs to support her. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I’m trying to save you.”

Tara let out a harsh laugh. “Save me? That’s rich.” She narrowed her eyes and waved her hands. “Just go. Get out of my room and let me take care of things.”

“I’ve got it under control.” CoCo gestured toward the doll. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Yeah, hiring an attorney gets it all under control. Who’re you trying to fool? Old man Trahan has all the lawyers in these parts in his hand.”

Her words stung CoCo, just as if she’d been slapped across the face.

Maybe she should have called Alyssa. At the very least they could provide a unified front. Their stance against voodoo was about the only thing CoCo and Alyssa agreed on.

Dear God, show me how to reach Tara. Call her to You as You called me.

“Go, CoCo. Go play with your alligators.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” If she could just help Tara see…

Tara shook her head and held up her hand. “I said get out of my room.”

When had Tara grown to be so rebellious and bitter? Had she failed her sister when their parents died?

“I said, go!” Tara slapped the blue doorframe hard. A framed photo of their parents dropped to the floor. Tara’s eyes widened. “The picture fell off the wall. That means someone will die, CoCo.”

“That’s just superstition.”

“Go!”

Without another word, CoCo turned and strode from the room and then down the stairs. She needed to get on the bayou, to be alone, to find peace. Her steps were quick as she made her way to her airboat. She untied the rope from the live oak stump.

A vehicle rattled down the gravel driveway.

CoCo turned, her heart and stomach switching places.

Luc Trahan skidded to a stop. What was he doing here? Through the windshield, his gaze met hers. Her betraying heart leapt.

She tossed down the rope and marched toward the truck. Luc got out, smiling as if he hadn’t crushed her heart and dreams. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to let you know Grandfather’s acting on his own with this eviction thing.”

He looked good—too good. She stiffened her spine. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve already retained an attorney to fight him.”

“Look, I think we—”

CoCo held up her hand. “There is no we anymore. You made sure of that, Luc.” She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her trembling. “I think you’d better leave.”

“But…”

“No anything. Just go. I want you to leave. Now.” Please, please just leave. She couldn’t allow him inside her heart again. It’d taken her too long to regain her emotional footing.

He moved toward her, closing the distance between them comfortably.

She backed up a step. “I said to go, Luc.” Her heart thundered. “Please.” She hated herself for pleading, but knew the tears would come soon. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he nodded, got into his truck and slammed the door.

Dirt filled the air as he sped off. It took her a moment to regulate her breathing. Her emotions betrayed her. CoCo narrowed her eyes toward the road, even though his truck had long moved out of view.

You won’t keel me over again with a warm smile, Luc Trahan. Not ever again.




THREE


Why, God? What more do You want from me? Haven’t I paid enough? Lost enough? Repented enough?

How had she failed so badly? Tara, her baby sister, already graduated to cunjas and using voodoo dolls. CoCo shook her head in the darkness.

With Alyssa gone, the responsibility of looking after her baby sister fell directly on CoCo’s shoulders. The weight often felt crushing. Hadn’t she endured a bad enough day without having to deal with Tara’s involvement in their grandmother’s old ways? Why didn’t they listen?

CoCo’s stomach roiled. Grandmere wouldn’t even bother teaching Tara if CoCo hadn’t stopped her training. She sighed. Being a Christian sure didn’t make life any easier—if anything, she’d had more heartache and grief.

And Luc showing up out of nowhere. Calling him had been a mistake, a big one. When the chips were down, why had she gone on auto-pilot and called in her knight in shining armor? She let out a breath with a gust. Some knight he’d turned out to be.

The only reply to her prayers was the tree frogs croaking, blending with the chirping of the crickets, filling the evening with the bayou’s own unique song.

CoCo turned off her running lights, killed the engine of her airboat and let it drift. The soft lapping of water against the boat lulled away her frustration. She drew in a deep breath, sucking in the calming scents of the bayou—sweet onion flowers and muskiness. This was her habitat, where she felt most comfortable. It would be over her dead body before she left her home. No matter what deed Beau Trahan possessed.

A bump against the airboat sent it rocking. CoCo flipped on her spotlight and shone the beam into the water. A young alligator, maybe five feet long at most, nudged with his nose again. CoCo laughed. A little bull testing his dominance. She reached for her tagging tool.

Loud thrashing sounded to her left. Pinpricks of dread skittered against the back of CoCo’s neck. She recognized the sound—water currents caused by an alligator having something in its death roll.

She jerked the light in the direction of the sound. Illumination reflected off the water, casting shadows into the weeping willow trees. There, a little farther to the left. CoCo shifted the light to the movement.

A flash of fabric. A twist of flesh. Another whooshing splash.

Heartbeat thudding in her ears, CoCo grabbed her noisemaker and pressed the button. The wail, imitating the guttural sound mother alligators made, bounced off the trees. She lowered the device to water level and sounded it again.

The alligator jerked toward her, leaving the body he’d had in his jaws. The young bull growled and grunted, defining his territory. The other gator dove under the water, slipping below her. CoCo kept the light on the older reptile. He surfaced a few feet from the young bull, who continued to warn off the other alligator with his rumbles. Within seconds, the bull attacked. The two reptiles rolled with one another. Waves rocked the airboat.

She sounded the noisemaker again. Both alligators faced her. She let loose another blast. The bull dove deep, surfacing 40 feet away. The other followed. CoCo trolled toward the human body floating facedown. Reaching behind her seat, she pulled out a long hooked pole. Her hands trembled as she jabbed the body with the hook and flipped it over.

The lifeless face of Beau Trahan stared up at her.

Leaning over the edge of the boat, CoCo retched and gagged. Once her stomach stopped heaving, she yanked the radio off its stand. “Alpha Tango Charlie to Vermilion parish sheriff’s office.”

The static crackled over the radio, followed by a loud blast. “Sheriff’s office, go ahead.”

“I need the sheriff out here at marker twelve-one-four, immediately.”

Again the crackling filled the night air, silencing the frogs and locusts. “Alpha Tango Charlie, what is the emergency?”

She glanced over at Beau Trahan’s blank expression. “I found a dead body at this location.”

The dispatcher informed her a unit would be on its way shortly. CoCo replaced the radio and then gazed over the bayou, looking anywhere but at the body. She flipped on her night lights, turned on her distress signal and then sat. Her top teeth captured her bottom lip and rubbed.

God, what more?

Long moments passed before a siren whirred off in the distance. She stood and caught sight of the incoming boat. Blue and white lights tangoed like macabre dancers. CoCo engaged the trolling motor, moving the airboat to face the incoming vessel.

Sheriff Bubba Theriot, his thick glasses mirroring the flashing blue-and-white, nodded as soon as they drifted close enough to her. “CoCo, whatcha got?”

She jerked her head toward her shoulder. “Dead body. Heard the death roll, then saw him. Got the gators to leave with the noisemaker before I radioed in.”

A deputy killed the engines and directed the boat to where she’d indicated. Bubba glanced over the side, his red hair looking brassy under the boat’s lights. “Oh, man. It’s Beau Trahan.” He glanced over at CoCo, his face paling by the minute.

“I know.”

He turned to his deputy. “We need to drag him out and carry him back to shore.” His gaze flitted to the body for a second before shooting over to her. “We’ll need you to make a statement.”

The deputy slipped the retrieval rod into the water, hooking Beau’s waist in the curve. CoCo stared back at the sheriff. If she had to watch them haul Beau in, she’d hurl again. “Okay. Can I just meet you back on land?”

Bubba gave a curt nod. “We’re closest to your house. We’ll put in there. I’ll radio the coroner to meet us.”

Great. She didn’t want to see any more. Her property wasn’t where she’d had in mind to meet, but at least she could go now. “Fine.”

She fired up the engine and whisked away as camera flashes went off. Shudders wracked her body. Everything about the situation gave her the creeps, but nothing more than the burning question—what had Beau Trahan been doing out in the bayou this time of night?

CoCo banked the airboat, tied it off, then rushed into the house. The screen door slammed behind her.

Grandmere sat up. “Ma chère, what’s your hurry? You look like a band of demons are after you.”

“I found a body in the bayou.”

“Oh, no!” Her grandmother’s voice bounced off the sunny walls.

Tara bounded down the stairs, the wood creaking and popping. “Grandmere, what’s wr—” She stopped when her gaze lit on CoCo. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, you’re riling her up again, aren’t you? Come to lecture her about me?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“Stop it, Tara. Contrary to what you may believe, everything is not all about you. I found Beau Trahan’s body in the bayou.” Anger shoved out the fear and revulsion she’d felt just moments before. A hum echoed off the bayou, but she ignored it and glared at Tara.

Grandmere struggled to her feet, her curled fingers grasping the back of the torn couch. “Oh, my. Are you sure, child?”

CoCo’s stomach knotted. “I’m positive.”

Her grandmother gasped, but Tara snorted. CoCo darted her stare to her sister and arched her eyebrows.

“Well.” Tara shrugged. “The old man got what was coming to him.”

“Tara!”

“It’s true.” Her sister flung her straight hair over her petite shoulders marked with tan lines. “I’m not sorry.”

Boards creaked from the porch. CoCo scrutinized her baby sister, recalling how Tara used to run to her for help and direction. What had happened to that sweet little girl? How could her sister be so cold, so callous? “That’s a horrible thing to say about another human being.”

“What, did one of your precious alligators get him?” Tara’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

“No, ma’am. Mr. Trahan was shot in the back,” Sheriff Theriot said from the screen door. “May I come in?”

“Oh. Yes. Certainly.” CoCo pushed open the door and waved the sheriff into the room.

He ambled inside, already pulling his little notebook from his shirt pocket. He popped the top off his pen, sat on the couch and then looked at CoCo. “I need you to tell me everything about finding Mr. Trahan.”

She wet her lips and closed her eyes. “I was late getting to my run today because I had an appointment in town this morning.”

“About what time did you get on the water?”

Opening her eyes, she locked gazes with her sister. “About sevenish.”

“Isn’t that a little late to be getting on the bayou?”

“Yes. I normally go in the morning and then again in the afternoon, but like I said, I had an appointment.”

Sheriff Theriot gave a little huff, scribbled something on his notebook, then returned his attention to her. He looked entirely too casual sitting on her grandmother’s floral-patterned couch. “So, you got out on the bayou around seven. Then what?”

CoCo flipped on the lamp sitting on the sidebar. “I went through my normal routine, marking locations of the tagged alligators on my tracking sheet. I saw a new bull gator, a young one, and reached for my tagging equipment. That’s when I heard it.” She pinched her eyes closed again. The action didn’t block out the memory.

“Heard what?”

She stared back at the sheriff, fighting against the stinging tears. “A death roll.”

“And then?”

“I shined the light over there and I saw…I saw the gator had a human body.”

“Uh-huh.” He jotted on his notebook again. “Then what?”

“I grabbed my noisemaker and scared off the alligators.”

“Gators? Thought there was just one?”

“No, the young bull decided to defend his territory against the gator that had the body.” She hated the way her voice cracked.

“So, you scared them away. Then what?”

She hauled in a deep breath. Bad mistake. The stench of death lay just outside. She could smell it, sense it creeping into the house and settling between her shoulder blades.

“CoCo?” Sheriff Theriot tilted his head to the side, waiting.

“I got my stick out, hooked the body and then flipped it over. I radioed it in immediately.”

“I see.” The sheriff mustered to his feet. “That’s all you can tell me?”

“Yes.” What more could she say?

“You didn’t hear a gunshot? See any boats in the area?”

She thought for a moment. “No, nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” He ambled to the door, pushed it open, then leaned outside and spit. He turned back to face her, a bit of tobacco spittle lingering in the corner of his mouth.

Her stomach rebelled. She rushed down the hall, shoved open the bathroom door and bent over the toilet. Dry heaves shook her body.

“You okay?” Tara stood in the doorway.

CoCo leaned her forehead against the clawed tub. “Yeah.” She stood and turned on the tap. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Just thought you might want to know, Sheriff said he called Luc.”

Marvelous. Just what she needed. The cherry on top of an already lousy day. “Merci for the heads-up.”

Tara nodded and left, her footsteps echoing on the wood floors. CoCo rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face. She wondered how Luc took the news. This was a tragedy. However despicable he might have been, Beau Trahan was Luc’s grandfather. She set the towel on the counter and then walked back to the living room.

Sheriff Theriot glanced at her through the screen. Men’s voices filtered in through the door, riding on the beams of headlights. Other law officials and the coroner must have arrived.

“CoCo,” the sheriff said as he opened the door and stepped inside, “is it true you and Mr. Trahan had a disagreement yesterday?”

News traveled fast in the bayou. No big surprise there. “Uh, sort of.”

“Care to explain?” He cocked his bony hip against the doorframe.

It struck her that he looked an awful lot like that Opie character from the old Andy Griffith show. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal. He gave my grandmother an eviction notice, and I asked him to leave.”

“An eviction notice? And you say it wasn’t that big of a deal?” His unibrow crinkled.

“I mean, sure we were upset, that’s the appointment I had this morning. I went to see my lawyer.”

“Who would that be?” He’d fished his notebook and pen from his pocket once more.

“Why does it matter?” All of a sudden, her stomach lurched again.

Sheriff Theriot gave her a what-are-you-hiding stare. “Just gotta verify it, that’s all.”

“Dwayne Williams.”

He scribbled. His pen scratched against the paper, rubbing her nerves raw. “You say you weren’t all that upset with Mr. Trahan yesterday?”

“I was upset, but I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re implying.” Indignation stiffened her spine.

“I said nothing like that. I’m just trying to figure out what happened.” He pushed open the door and spit off the porch again. “This is a homicide, Ms. LeBlanc. We have to check out everything and everyone.”

“I’m a suspect?” Her palms sweated.

“He was murdered, Ms. LeBlanc.”

“And one of you is responsible,” Luc Trahan announced as he walked up behind the sheriff.

CoCo’s midnight eyes flashed. “I’m sorry for your loss, but you have no right to accuse anyone in my family.”

“Are you sure about that?” He nodded toward her grandmother and little sister, both glaring at him as if he were pond scum.

She followed his gaze, then met his stare. “I’m positive. And you should be, too, Luc.” Her voice softened a beat.

His heart tripped in response. Traitorous little thing, his heart. He’d assumed he’d gotten over CoCo LeBlanc. Apparently not. She still took his breath away.

“Do you have any proof of your allegations, Mr. Trahan?” Sheriff Theriot spoke quietly.

“CoCo called me yesterday after Grandfather served the eviction notice. She was mad, really mad. Said she wouldn’t be bullied by my grandfather.” He never broke eye contact with CoCo.

Her eyes widened. The green streaks around the irises glimmered. “I was mad, yes, but I didn’t threaten him in any way, and you know that.”

“What about them?” He nodded toward her family lurking behind her.

She shook her head, her curly tresses falling over her shoulder like black ink. “An old woman and a young girl?” She guffawed. “Surely you don’t mean to imply they had anything to do with his death?”

“That old woman is a voodoo priestess.” And you, too.

“You don’t believe all that…wait, what did you call it? Mumbo jumbo. All that mumbo jumbo could kill someone?”

The scab ripped off his old wound. “But they do.” She’s still so bitter, God. I pray You’ll touch her heart, soften it, bring her to know and love You.

“Their beliefs didn’t kill your grandfather, Luc.” There she went again, using her soft and sultry voice against him. His heart reacted.

Sheriff Theriot shifted his weight. “We’ll have more information in the morning.” He nodded at CoCo. “I’ll need you to come down to the station first thing.”

“D-do I need to bring my lawyer?”

“Do you need one?” Luc hated the accusation slipping into his words, but couldn’t stop it.

Her eyes were steel as she glared at him. “I think you need to leave, Luc. You’ve already been ordered off my property once today.”

“Since this is legally my grandfather’s land, it’s now mine, wouldn’t you say? ”Why did he continue talking, instigating the situation and riling her up? He didn’t want to hurt her. He’d never wanted to cause her pain. Yet, he had…but it’d hurt him, too.

“You need to leave, cooyon. Now.” Her grandmother took a step toward him.

The sheriff laid a hand on his shoulder, practically pulling him out of the house. “It’s been a long day. Just go home, Luc. Be with your mom and sister. We’ll meet in the morning.”

Finally, logic and reason prevailed. Luc stared into CoCo’s eyes, searching for any sign of malice or deception. He found none—they shined with clarity and honesty. What had he done by accusing her? Again.

“Luc.” The sheriff jerked harder on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Okay.” He strode off the porch, not looking back. He couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak and hurt in her eyes. Once had been enough for that. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Sheriff Theriot followed him to his vehicle. “What’s this about you being ordered off the place today?”

“I came by to talk to her about the eviction notice.”

“What about it?”

Luc shrugged. “Just that Grandfather was acting on his own.”

“Didn’t realize you two were talking.” Bubba hitched his single brow.

“We aren’t.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I just thought it was wrong that Grandfather was evicting them.”

“Uh-huh. I see. Just come by the station in the morning. Maybe we’ll have some more information available by then.”

“Thanks, Bubba. I appreciate it.” He got in the car and started it up.

Once on the main road, he slammed the side of his fist against the steering wheel. He’d finally come to terms with his father’s death and how wrong he’d been to partially blame CoCo. Now, Luc had just accused her of shooting his grandfather. What was wrong with him? If they were to line up people with motive to kill Beau, he would be at the head of the line.

Braking to a stop at the end of the road, he pulled air into his lungs in great gulps. He’d wanted out from under Grandfather’s thumb, and he’d gotten his wish. But he’d never wanted the old man killed. If CoCo and her family weren’t the killers, then who?

Wanting to avoid talking to his mother, the drama queen herself, Luc steered in the direction of his great-uncle’s house. Somebody needed to tell Uncle Justin. The enormity of responsibility sat heavily across Luc’s shoulders.

How did one go about telling someone their brother had just been murdered?




FOUR


Exhaustion weighted each limb, but sleep eluded CoCo. She lay in the four-poster bed, the night sounds of the bayou drifting in through the old plantation’s air-conditioning units. Visions of Beau Trahan’s dead face flickered across her memory. As long as she lived, she’d never forget those lifeless eyes. It brought back the nightmare of two years ago…being called out to the bayou to help capture an alligator who had killed a man. A man who went into the water following a boating accident. A man who happened to be Caleb Trahan, Luc’s father. She’d forever be haunted by the horrors of his death, too.

Flipping onto her stomach, she punched her feather pillow a couple of times. Why did her life have to be so complicated? Every place she turned, death seemed to find her. And it always went back to Luc and his family.

Why, God? Again? I don’t understand. I’m following You. Why won’t You stop this death cloud hovering over me?

She laid in silence waiting for a response. None came. CoCo turned her head and glared at the clock—11:32. She let out a groan and pinched her eyes shut. Luc’s face swam in her mind. With ease she could recall the feel of his arms around her…his gentle hands in her hair…his lips grazing her temple…the promise of forever sealed with a ring. She sniffled and turned onto her back.

Her door creaked open, spilling radiance from the hall night-light. Tara hovered in the doorway. “Are you awake?”

CoCo pushed into a sitting position. Her shoulders pressed against the oak headboard. “Yeah, come on in. What’s wrong?”

Her sister’s steps faltered as she made her way across the hardwood floor to perch on the edge of the bed. “Who do you think shot Mr. Beau?” Her toenails flickered hot pink, a bold contrast to the white comforter.

“I don’t know.” CoCo leaned forward in the semilight to try to study her sister’s face. “Do you have any idea?”

Tara shrugged. “I really don’t know, but it couldn’t have happened to a better person.” She held up her hand. “I know, I know, it’s not nice to say. You have to admit Beau Trahan wasn’t a nice man.”

“No, he wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to be shot.”

“I understand that. And I’m sorry because I know it puts something else between you and Luc.”

“That’s over anyway. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Are you sure about that?”

CoCo nodded, pressing her lips together.

“I’m not so certain. Luc still stares at you like that.”

The smile she forced cost her more pain in her heart than she’d ever imagined it would after all this time. “It’s been over for two years. You know that.”

“If you say so. I just see the way he looks at you. Like a man in love.”

CoCo snorted. “You’re imagining things, Tara.” No, no…she couldn’t let hope rise in her chest. He’d betrayed her, the pain he’d inflicted left a scar across her heart that would never totally heal.

Her sister stood. “I don’t think so. Hey, it’s your life, not mine.” Her words were sharp, but delivered with a soft tone.

“Did you want to talk about anything else?”

Tara shook her head. “I just wanted to check on you. I know it’s been a rough day”

Now here was the little sister she remembered. She flashed an authentic smile. “I’ll be okay, Boo. I appreciate you asking.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her sister turned and walked soundlessly to the door.

“Tara?”

“Yeah?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“I love you.”

A smile spread across her sister’s face. “I love you, too.”

With the door closed, the room sank into darkness once more. CoCo glanced at the clock—12:59. Lovely. Today had already disappeared, and tomorrow didn’t look too promising. She scrunched back under the cotton sheet, flipping to her side. Maybe she had touched Tara with her witnessing. Could it be?

A screech owl hooted right outside her bedroom. Once, twice. CoCo bolted upright, her heart racing. Old habits dying hard and all that jazz. She slipped out of bed and crossed to the window, pushing back the sheer curtains. An owl perched on the magnolia tree branch just outside. It seemed to stare right at CoCo, before hooting twice more. The moon danced in the sky, catching the stars and washing them in more light, as if they weren’t brilliant enough.

Her door swung open. Tara trembled. “Did you hear it? There’s gonna be another death.”

CoCo let her hand fall from the curtain and moved to her sister. “That’s superstition.”

“The picture fell off the wall, then you found Mr. Beau. Don’t you see? It’s not superstition. You, of all people, should know the power of the gris-gris.”

She wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Tara, that picture falling off the wall had nothing to do with Mr. Beau getting shot. Come on, it just isn’t logical.”

Tara stepped out of her embrace. “You’re wrong, CoCo. You can tout Christ all you want, and say how black magic and voodoo are wrong, but the spirits are angry and you can’t deny their intervention in life.”

How could she explain? Lord, give me the words. She took a deep breath. “Tara, I’ve never said there weren’t bad spirits—I can’t believe in God and not believe in Satan. Doing any kind of voodoo or spells and such is against God’s teachings. It’s against His will.”

“So this god of yours doesn’t want us to defend ourselves? I’m sorry, I don’t buy that.” Tara shook her head. “You know the teachings—the old ways tie us into the spirit of nature, to allow us to defend ourselves against the bad spirits. If your god is so powerful, why does he allow the spirits to torment us?”

Just what she’d been asking God about earlier. “Tara, God is love. He created nature, so of course, we’re in tune to all His creations.”

Tara hurried to the door. “I don’t want to hear anymore. It’s all lies. Voodoo works. It’s proven, and I know in my heart it’s true.”

“Wait,” CoCo cried and took a step forward, but Tara rushed from the room and shut the door firmly behind her. It wasn’t worth another argument. Besides, she couldn’t explain to Tara what she couldn’t figure out herself.

She got back in bed, scowling at the clock. The neon numbers blinked 1:41, mocking her inability to sleep. CoCo shoved the clock, knocking it off the nightstand. It thundered to the floor with a loud thump.

Luc sat in his four-wheel drive, staring at his great-uncle’s house. No lights blazed, not even a welcoming one burned on the front porch. Maybe he should wait until later to break the news to Uncle Justin. Luc reached for the keys still hanging in the ignition, then stopped himself. The press would be all over the story in the morning. His grandfather had been a respected pillar of the community, having served as a state representative for two terms. No, he couldn’t let his uncle hear about this on the morning newscasts.

This evening had been a nightmare, one laced with memories—hard memories, painful memories. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t compare the two. He refused. This time was different. Last time, it’d been an accident—this time, it was murder.

Father God, please forgive my human instincts that scream out for revenge. I pray Your justice be served, for Grandfather and all of us.

He opened the door and stepped onto the dirt driveway. His stride slowed, dread weighing down his legs. Before his foot hit the first stair, lights blazed in the windows and the front porch lit up like the bayou during a parish-wide cochon de lait. He could almost smell the pig roasting over an open pit.

The front door whipped open with a creak and his burly uncle stood there, shotgun raised. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Luc, Uncle Justin.”

“Luc? What’re ya doing here this time of night?” He lowered the gun and squinted in the dark. His thinning hair stuck up at odd angles, its streaks of white sparkling under the harsh porch light.

“I have some bad news. Can I come inside?”

“Of course. Come on in.” Justin moved his big bulk out of the doorway, letting Luc pass.

Luc moved into the small living room and dropped to the couch. It always amazed him that his grandfather gave his uncle so much money, yet Justin never seemed to spend a dime of it. At least, not on his house or its furnishings.

Running his hand over his hair, Luc struggled to find the gentlest words available. He must have a limited thesaurus of the brain as nothing came to mind. “Uncle Justin, I don’t know how to say this…”

“Just spit it out, boy.” His uncle leaned the shotgun against the wall before taking a seat in the recliner across from the couch. The leather popped against his weight.

“Grandfather was found dead in the bayou tonight.”

“No!” Justin’s face paled under the bright lights.

“I’m sorry.” He let out a long sigh. Maybe he should have let Bubba Theriot do the notifying—it was his job, after all. No. This was his family, his responsibility.

“Not again!” His uncle’s face turned red as a lobster and his big hands shook when he ran a hand over his haphazard hair. “What happened?”

“Someone shot Grandfather in the back.”

“Shot!” His uncle leapt up, no small feat considering the man’s large girth. “Who?”

Luc shook his head. “We don’t know yet.”

“Beau was just here today.”

Jerking up his head, Luc stared at his uncle. “When?”

“Today.” Justin lifted a shoulder. “’Bout early afternoon, I s’pose.”

“What’d he come by for?”

“To tell me about evicting the LeBlancs.”

“Oh.” Luc lowered his head. Suspicion always circled back to link to CoCo and her family. “Yeah, he told me about that.”

“You’re still sweet on that oldest gal, aren’t ya?”

Luc swallowed. “The sheriff is checking out the LeBlanc family.” He rose, the long hours of the day pressing against every muscle in his body. “I’m sure Bubba will be by to talk to you.”

“That cooyon? He couldn’t find his foot in the dark with a flashlight.”

“He’s the best we have.”

His uncle snuffled. “I just can’t believe this.”

“I know.” The emotions filled his throat. He gave a cough and locked stares with his uncle. “I can tell you this, Uncle Justin—whoever did this to Grandfather will be punished.”

“Even if it’s that gator gal?”

“Even her.” Luc opened the front door and strode toward his vehicle, not ready to discuss anything more about the possibility of CoCo’s involvement. Yet, the memory of her mixing herbs to make a potion still haunted him. Could she have, would she have put a curse on his grandfather? He shook his head. It didn’t matter, he didn’t believe in all that voodoo stuff anyway. God had always been at his side. Still, Grandfather being murdered…

He steered toward home, his heart already overburdened, and he still had to tell his mother and Felicia. Sometimes being the responsible one in the family just plain wore him out.

Ten minutes and two turns later, Luc parked in the driveway. He sat in the vehicle, in the dark, staring at the house before him. Pristine white columns lined the front of the veranda, much like Twelve Oaks in Gone With the Wind.

God, this is harder than I ever imagined. Yes, I was angrywith Grandfather, and I confess the anger to You and ask for Your forgiveness. I never wanted him to die. Murdered, at that.

Better to go ahead and get his duty over with so he could go to bed and end this awful day. Luc trod up the front steps, unlocked the door and then stepped quietly over the threshold.

His mother sat at the kitchen table, a glass snifter in her hand. “You’re out late, ma chère. Everything okay?”

“Not really.” He dragged himself to the wood table and pulled out a chair. He sat with all the heaviness of the burdens in his heart. “Grandfather’s dead.”

His mother’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an O, but no sound came out.

“Before you ask, we don’t know much. Someone shot him in the back and left his body in the bayou. That’s all I know for now. I’m meeting with the sheriff in the morning to learn more.”

“What will we do? How will we live? Can we stay in the house?” A hint of liquor steeped from her breath as she gasped in drama.

“I don’t know, Mom.” He pushed back the chair; it scraped against the tile floor. “I’m going to tell Felicia and then I’m hitting the sack. It’s been a really long day.”

Luc turned and ambled down the hall, not giving his mother time to voice her panicked concerns. In the past few months, her late-night nip of brandy had become a large glass. He’d have to deal with the drinking issue later, but right now he felt beyond tired.

The hallway walls boasted photographs of him and his sister at varying times in their lives. Birth, christenings, graduations…even his college diploma hung proudly against the white wall. So much of the past stuck here in the present.

Pausing outside Felicia’s bedroom, he rapped on her door with the backs of his knuckles.

“Yes?” his sister asked.

He pushed open the door a crack. “Hey, Boo. It’s me.”

“Luc. Come on in.” Using her elbows, she pushed herself into a semisitting position. The queen-size bed seemed to swallow her, with the lightweight blue comforter and big fluffy white pillows.

She looked even more frail and fragile in bed. He sat beside her. “Got some bad news.”

Her blue eyes blinked in the half-light. “Mom?”

“No, she’s fine.” He patted her hand. “She’s drinking, but that’s another story.”

“Then what?” His sister’s angelic face wrapped in worry.

“It’s Grandfather.”

“What’s he done now?”

“Nothing. They found his body in the bayou tonight.”

“Body?” Her eyes filled with tears, reminding Luc of the Caribbean ocean, so clear in comparison to the murky waters around Lagniappe.

“He’d been shot.”

“I don’t understand.” Tears squeezed from her eyes and trickled down her gaunt cheeks.

He gripped her hand tighter, wishing he could erase the pain from her eyes.

“This is awful.”

“I know.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.

She grabbed his hand as he stood over her. “Luc, I’m mad at him, I mean I was, but I never wanted him dead.”

“I know, Boo. Me, too.”

Felicia wiped away her tears. “Where’d they find him?”

Leave it to his astute sister to ask such a pointed question. He sighed. “Near Grisson Landing.” He waited for the reaction.

She made the connection instantly. “Oh, no. Where Daddy died?”

The irony of the situation hadn’t been lost on her. The pain tightening her features strengthened his resolve to find the guilty party.

“Yes.” His vocal chords strained.

The tears spilled again. “Who found him?”

“CoCo.”




FIVE


Sleep deprived and nervous, CoCo paced the sidewalk outside the Vermilion parish sheriff’s office. She glanced at her watch, then peered down the asphalt road. What could be keeping Dwayne Williams? First thing this morning, she’d called his office and left a message. He’d returned her call before eight-thirty, assuring her he would meet her at nine-thirty for her to give her statement. According to Mickey on her wrist, nine minutes had passed since their scheduled meeting time.

Lord, I need a little help down here. I know I’m innocent, but am not so sure about Grandmere and Tara.

Wait! Did she just admit that her grandmother or sister could be involved in a murder? No way, no how. Practicing gris-gris and cunjas didn’t make one guilty of murder, did it? No, course not. Beau had been shot, not poisoned. Voodoo couldn’t pull a gun out of thin air, could it? She shook her head. She was being as illogical as Tara about superstitions.

An old Lincoln pulled into the parking lot, its tires crunching the loose gravel. Dwayne slipped from behind the wheel and marched toward her. “Sorry I’m a little late. Had to stop by the office and pick up some papers.”

She glanced at her watch. Wonderful, now they were fifteen minutes behind. What would Bubba Theriot think? She forced a smile. “That’s okay.”

He clutched a briefcase in his hand, and now that she studied him, he looked like a high-dollar attorney in his fitted suit and tie. Her smile shifted to genuine.

“This is standard and nothing to fret over.” He indicated the door with his briefcase. “Come on, allons. Might as well get it over with.”

Taking in a deep breath, she grasped the handle and jerked the glass door open. The aroma of burnt coffee reeked across the foyer of the police station, mixing with cheap aftershave. It turned her stomach. Good thing she hadn’t had breakfast.

Phones rang and people shouted, raising the noise level to a ten on the Richter scale. She fought back the instinct to clap her hands over her ears. Her soul ached for the quiet tranquility of the bayou. However, the memory that it hadn’t been so tranquil last night tapped her on the shoulder.

“Keep going, Sheriff Theriot is waving us over,” Dwayne said, his deep baritone pervading the noise around her.

She followed her attorney as he wove through the throng of police officers in the tiny station, keeping her attention focused on the floor. The cracked tile needed a good mopping. She studied the ground so intently that she nearly ran smack into Dwayne’s back when he stopped. CoCo jerked her head up.

Sheriff Bubba Theriot shook hands with Dwayne, then her. She pulled away from his sweaty, beefy clasp. She forced herself not to shudder. She certainly didn’t need to offend the lawman.

“Let’s head to the conference room,” the sheriff said. Without waiting for a reply, he herded them into a plain room, barren of any furniture save a table with four chairs, two on either side, and a single tape recorder.

She dropped into the chair Dwayne held out for her, then he sat beside her. Sheriff Theriot took a seat across the table. She glanced around the room, noticing the large mirror on one wall. CoCo gave herself a mental shake. That wasn’t an ordinary mirror—there were officers on the other side, watching her. Even though Grandmere didn’t own a television set, CoCo had seen enough movies to know.

“This is just a formality, CoCo,” the sheriff said as he reached for the tape recorder. “I’ll be recording your statement to make sure we get it right.”

Yeah, right. He just wanted to trip her up. Nerves bunched in the pit of her stomach. She’d be so embarrassed if she got sick right here in front of the sheriff. Would he automatically assume her guilty if she did?

“Ready?”

CoCo gave her recorded statement, waited for it to be typed and then signed where the sheriff indicated.

“We’ll call if we have any more questions,” the sheriff said as he showed them out.

“You can contact me directly if you have anything further to ask Ms. LeBlanc.” Dwayne passed one of his business cards to Sheriff Theriot.

CoCo and Dwayne escaped the stale air and chaotic noise of the station. Dwayne escorted her to the Jeep. “Would you like to go to the diner over there?” He nodded to the building across the street. “We can discuss what will happen now in regard to the eviction case, and you can ask me any questions you might have about the murder investigation.”

Now that her interview and statement were over, hunger pangs gripped her stomach. “That’d be nice. Merci.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

The drive across the street took but a few minutes, yet the time gave her an opportunity to compose herself and get her head on straight. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Using her fingers, she combed her wavy bangs and then pulled at the bags under her eyes. A nap would definitely make it on her to do list for this afternoon.

Dwayne waited in the entry of the diner, smiling as she approached. A middle-aged waitress with a sagging mouth sat them in a booth off to the side. While casting them a curious look, she took their orders for coffee, handed them menus, then sashayed back to the counter.

“You did fine, by the way,” Dwayne said while perusing the diner’s offerings after the waitress had left.

“Merci.” She scanned the items listed on the grease-spotted bill of fare. Eggs and bacon with toast sounded mouthwatering right now. She closed the menu and studied her attorney. He had to be close to her age, twenty-nine, or just a few years older. Her gaze slid lower. No wedding band adorned his left hand. How did an African-American lawyer end up in Lagniappe?

“Is something wrong?”

She jerked her gaze to his eyes. “Pardon?”

“You’re staring at me. Is something wrong?”

Heat shot up her neck and into her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.”

“About?”

“Beau Trahan. Who killed him?”

The waitress chose that moment to return. She filled their coffee mugs, took their orders and then hurried to another table of customers.

CoCo caught the stares from some of the people at the other tables, understanding that many wondered why a white woman sat with a black man. Even now, decades upon decades after the Civil War, some of the Cajuns in the area still held racist beliefs. Small-minded thinking drove her insane.

“You know—” Dwayne pulled her attention back to her question “—I’ve found Beau had a lot of enemies. During his time as a representative, he burned a lot of bridges. And he didn’t earn any hero worship during his stint as casino manager.”

“True, he never was a really likeable man.” She avoided the glare from the man across the way. Hillbilly redneck in Cajun country, just shoot me now. She stilled at her uncharitable train of thought. Shoot… “Have you heard what caliber weapon yet?”

He took a sip of his coffee. “While you were reading and signing your statement, I talked to one of the deputies. The autopsy will be later this morning. I’ll find out more this afternoon.”

“Do they think he was shot in the bayou?”

Setting down his mug, he shrugged. “What’re you thinking?”

“If he was killed in the bayou, it would have been farther away from where I found his body. If he’d been shot around Grisson Landing, I’d have heard the blast.”

Dwayne leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “Are you saying someone killed him elsewhere and moved him to the bayou, to that particular location? Why?”

She ran her finger along the rim of the cup. “Either to implicate my family or to hurt the Trahans.”

“Hurt them? I’m not following.”

“Two years ago, Beau Trahan’s son died in an accident.”

“I just moved here last year. What happened?”

“Caleb, Beau’s son, was out in his pirogue and hit a submerged stump. The boat capsized and somehow, Caleb broke his arm.”

“How horrible. Did he drown?”

“No.” Images of Caleb’s body threatened to choke her. Lord, make them go away. She gulped coffee, scalding her tongue, but it dulled the horror in her mind. “Best the police can guess is he started swimming toward the bank, but his broken arm slowed him down.” Another sip. “An alligator got him.”

“That’s atrocious. Did they find his body?”

She nodded, closing her eyes briefly against the memory. It didn’t block out the visuals in her head. “My grandmother heard his scream and called the police. She called me on my radio. I rushed over, arriving right before the police showed up.” She shuddered. “A gator had him in a death roll. I managed to get the gator off him, but it was too late.”

They fell silent as the waitress returned with their plates and refilled their coffee before bustling away.

“So, another family member found dead in the bayou would hurt the Trahans?”

“Not just anywhere, but Grisson Landing. Both Caleb and Beau were found there.”

Standing outside the sheriff’s office, Luc ducked under the cloth awning, gaining relief from the blistering sun. Not even noon, but the heat already danced in the red of the thermometer. Humidity had to be in the high eighty-percent range. Miserable, that’s the only way he could think to describe the weather.

He let out a long breath. The sheriff hadn’t been in the office, having gone to the coroner’s for the autopsy. The thought twisted Luc’s stomach. He’d stayed up nearly half the night battling the image of his grandfather being shot. His prayers brought him little peace. Truth be told, guilt had followed his conversation with God. Guilt that he’d accused CoCo and her family of being involved with Beau’s murder. No matter what, Luc couldn’t picture her, her grandmother or her sister shooting his grandfather. After a long grappling with the Holy Spirit, Luc knew he needed to talk to CoCo.

He should head out to her house, apologize and get back to hear what the sheriff learned from the autopsy. That’s what he should do, but his heart screamed at him to say he was sorry for more than accusations. Even if she never accepted his words. He didn’t know if he could look into her emotion-riddled eyes and not apologize for leaving her, for ending what could have been their happily ever after. Did that scenario exist?

Staring out across the street, he spied CoCo’s Jeep. How ironic. No, that wasn’t it. He glanced heavenward. Guess I’m not gonna get out of this one, huh, God?

No, the conviction sitting on his shoulders wouldn’t let him avoid what needed to be done. He walked across the street, heading toward her vehicle. Maybe he could leave a note and prevent having to see the pain in her eyes.

The door to the local diner swung open and out waltzed CoCo with a tall black man. So much for avoiding. He took a step toward her. “CoCo…”

Her eyes lit on him, not filled with pain or remorse as he’d imagined, but with anger and resentment. The urge to step away nearly strangled him.

“What’re you doing here? Following me?”

“Of course not. I just wanted to talk to you for a second.” His heart skittered like a young schoolboy’s.

She held his gaze for a moment, before turning to the man beside her. “Dwayne Williams, this is Luc Trahan. Beau Trahan’s grandson.” She jerked her stare back to Luc. “This is Dwayne Williams, my attorney.”

Luc shook the man’s hand, his mind reeling. Attorney. She’d followed through with her threat to hire one. That shouldn’t really surprise him. He turned his attention back to CoCo. “I only need a minute of your time.”

“What do you want?” She sounded tired, run down. He’d never really thought about how draining the situation—finding the body—had to be for her.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes twinkling from the glint of the sun. “For what?”

Oh, she wasn’t about to make this any easier for him. “For accusing you and your family of being involved in my grandfather’s murder.” There, he’d said it, done what he’d been convicted to do. God, can I leave now?

“So, you believe me?”

He rolled a rock with the toe of his hiking boot. “Yeah.” He chanced looking into her eyes. Big mistake. Distrust flashed with the green. What was he doing? “I never really believed you could be involved.”




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