Читать книгу Bayou Justice - Robin Caroll - Страница 10

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.”