by Jana DeLeon
She sighed. “It was self-preservation at first, but I guess it became habit. Not that it didn’t prevent me from making some mistakes. I trusted the wrong people a time or two and quickly learned my lesson. A lot of people are not anything like what they appear. My distance allowed me the time to see them for who they truly were.”
“And in all that time, no man ever passed your assessment?”
“No.” She looked over at him. “I mean, I’ve been with other men... I’m not... It just didn’t go anywhere. No matter how sincere they appeared, I couldn’t trust them. Then I came to Calais and everything felt different. Maybe I was simply tired of living a shadow of a life.”
“Maybe it’s because Calais is where you belong.”
“Do you really think so?”
The hope in her expression as she looked at him made his heart break for the lost little girl who had spent a lifetime looking for her place in the world.
“Yes, I do. Everyone here seems to like you. I haven’t met your sister, but I like Carter, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would settle down with a questionable woman. So I’ll go out on a limb and say that Alaina is probably a good person and happy you’re here.”
Her eyes misted up and she nodded. “Alaina is a great person—one of the best I’ve ever met. I felt a connection with her immediately. She’s worried about me, and I can tell it’s real because it feels so strange. Nice strange, if that makes sense.”
“It does. Danae, you’re a wonderful woman who’s overcome a past that most people would have crumbled under. I know it’s not in your nature to let people in, but your life would become so much more if you took that risk. Sometimes it comes with great heartache, but without risking heartache, you can’t experience great joy.”
She sniffed and gave him a small smile. “How did a contractor get so philosophical?”
“My dad was a funeral director, and my mom died when I was five. I learned about the fragility of life at a young age. All of us have only so much time on this earth, and none of us know how much time that is.”
“So I should live life as if it were my last day?”
“Well, maybe not your last day, but perhaps second-to-last?”
She laughed softly as she stared at him, her amber eyes looking so deeply into his that he wondered if she could read his mind. He hoped not, because at the moment, his thoughts were anything but pure.
She was so beautiful—the fine bone structure of her face, her full lips and glossy black hair. Sitting on a broken-down couch, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.
“Maybe I’ll start living that second-to-last day now,” she whispered and leaned over, brushing her lips against his.
He told himself it was a bad idea—to take when she was so vulnerable—but nothing could have stopped him from responding. Danae had awakened parts of him that he’d never known were there. She’d already taken his heart and soul. The only thing left to give was his physical self, and he’d been fighting that urge for too long.
He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. She ran her hands up his back, and immediately, he wanted her hands everywhere—his hands everywhere. He lowered his mouth to kiss the nape of her neck and she groaned, leaning her head back so that he could trail kisses across her chest.
He slipped one hand under her T-shirt and found her bare breast, giving silent thanks that she’d dressed in haste and left off the bra. Her smooth skin sent his body into overdrive, and he decided there was entirely too much cloth between them.
With a single flourish, he pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. When he took her full breast into his mouth, she trembled and tugged at his shirt.
“I want you now,” she whispered.
No more prompting needed, he rose and pulled off his clothes, then snagged a condom from his wallet. Danae pulled off her shorts and he pushed her gently back on the couch before rising above her.
In one fluid motion, he entered her and gasped.
She clutched his back and he kissed her again, then set the pace that quickly sent both of them over the edge.
* * *
CARTER PULLED INTO CALAIS around 2:00 a.m. He’d originally planned to stay the night in New Orleans, but his day had revealed so much information, he knew he’d be too restless to sleep for a long while. Finally deciding there was no use paying for a hotel room when he wasn’t going to use the bed for hours, he jumped into his truck and headed back home. His bed there was more comfortable and free, and this way, he’d be able to talk to Danae first thing in the morning.
He debated between a shower or food—it had been a long time since he’d had either—but food finally won out and he fixed a sandwich and ate it standing over the sink. If Alaina were there, she’d fuss at him for the bachelor behavior and he smiled thinking about it. He missed his fiancée, more than he’d ever thought possible. She’d slipped so easily into his life, making it complete when he hadn’t even realized something was missing.
A few minutes later the hot spray and shower steam relaxed his muscles, which had tightened during the seemingly never-ending drive on the lonely highways from New Orleans to Calais. It had been a really long but productive day, and he was glad he’d finally gotten to the bottom of the odd habits of Trenton Purcell, aka Raymond Lambert. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother, who’d always loathed the man, that her instincts were right, as always.
He was almost waterlogged when he heard his cell phone ringing. Frowning, he jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel as he hurried into the kitchen to grab his phone. He’d notified dispatch when he was on his way back to Calais, but tomorrow was his day off, and the deputy he’d hired a couple weeks before was on call.
The display showed the sheriff’s department number, and he felt his heart rate tick up a beat as he answered. Something was seriously wrong for them to call at this hour.
“I’m sorry to call you in the middle of the night,” said Margaret, the night dispatcher, “but we’ve got a bad situation at Jack Granger’s place.”
Carter clenched the phone, praying that the cook hadn’t gotten drunk and done something incredibly stupid. He’d never been brought up for domestic violence before, but he was a mean drunk and had been a pressure cooker of emotion lately.
“What did he do?” Carter asked.
“He was murdered.”
Involuntarily, his jaw dropped, and for a moment, his mind went completely blank. “Come again?”
“He was murdered. The deputy’s on the scene, but he’s panicking.”
“You think?” Ten days on the job in a town that usually boasted drunk-driving citations, poaching and the occasional bar brawl, and the completely green twenty-two-year-old had been called to a murder scene in the middle of the night.
“Give me a second to throw on clothes. I’ll call you from the road and you can fill me in on what you know.”
He tossed the phone onto the kitchen table and ran into the bedroom to throw on jeans, tennis shoes and a T-shirt. Not even taking time to run a brush through his wet hair, he strapped on his pistol, grabbed his phone and ran out the door and into his truck. He dialed dispatch as soon as he pulled out of the driveway.
“What do you know?” he asked, wanting to get as much information as possible before he walked onto the scene.
“His girlfriend, Cherise, was out of town with the kids, helping her sister, who’d just had surgery. She called that evening for Jack, but he never answered and no one at the café had seen him since he left work. She waited awhile, but by ten o’clock, decided something might be wrong and headed back here to check.”
“Please tell me she didn’t have the kids with her.”
“She was smart enough to leave them sleeping at her sister’s, and it’s a good thing. Deputy Finley said he’d been stabbed repeatedly—hacked was the word he used. He sounded like he was going to pass out when he called in. I figured Cherise was in even worse co
ndition than the deputy, so I called Doc Broussard while I was waiting on you to call back. He’s on his way.”
“Good.” Carter would need the doctor not only to calm Cherise, but also to give him an idea on time of death and weapon. Doc Broussard wasn’t well versed in forensics, but he’d seen enough knife wounds that he might be able to give them an idea what weapon was used.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Margaret asked.
“Yeah, call my mom. Give her a rundown of the situation and tell her to prepare a room for Cherise. She’ll need a place to rest and someone to keep watch over her for a bit.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I hang up with you.”
Several seconds of silence followed, and for a moment, he thought they’d been disconnected.
Then Margaret’s voice came through again, and this time, he could hear the fear in her voice.
“Carter, what’s going on in this town?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
Chapter Sixteen
Danae handed Zach a refill of coffee as he sat on a stool in front of her cabin door, changing out the locks. As usual, she’d awakened early, but for the first time in her life, she hadn’t awakened alone. Wrapped in Zach’s arms, even the lumpy old pullout couch felt like the bed in a five-star hotel.
She’d snuggled against him and felt him stir, lower parts first, then working upward. They’d made love again, this time slow and easy, with him taking the time to enjoy every curve of her body. She’d languished in the attention and the way her body responded to his touch.
Before the sun even peeked over the cypress trees, they’d eaten breakfast, and Zach had changed the locks on the caretaker’s cabin before they’d headed back to her cabin to do the same.
In the bright daylight, the cabin looked so innocent, so free of trouble, but the previous night was so clear in her mind, the attack might as well have happened five minutes ago. Still clutching her coffee mug, she crossed her arms as the cool morning air wafted inside the cabin and ran across her bare skin.
“When should we call Carter?”
Zach placed a screw in the door frame and tightened the lock onto the door. “He said he would head back early this morning. It’s almost seven a.m. We can try him now, if you want.”
She nodded and stepped into the kitchen to retrieve her cell phone. “If we don’t catch him before he leaves New Orleans, we may not be able to for a while. I don’t think there’s much signal to speak of on the highways in between.”
“Probably not.”
She pushed in Carter’s number and was relieved when he answered on the first ring, although he sounded beat. A flash of guilt passed over her that she’d woken him up when he probably could have used the sleep.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” she said.
“You didn’t. I haven’t been to bed yet.”
A million things flashed through her mind, none of them good. “Is Alaina all right?” she asked, getting her most important worry out of the way.
“She’s fine. Nothing to do with her, but I need to talk to you.”
“Good. I need to talk to you, too.”
“I’m about to finish up here. I can be there in about thirty minutes. Are you at the house or your cabin?”
She was momentarily shocked to hear he was back in Calais, which opened up an entirely new avenue of possibilities for his lack of sleep. “I’m at my cabin. So is Zach. We’ll wait for you here.”
“I’ll see you in thirty.”
She slipped the phone into her pocket and looked over at Zach, who’d stopped working.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said and relayed Carter’s whereabouts and lack of sleep to Zach.
His face darkened. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I know. I could hear it in his voice. He sounded exhausted, but also frustrated, angry and sad, all rolled into one. What could have happened?”
“Your sister’s all right, though?”
She nodded. “If he needs to talk to me, then it’s something to do with me, right?”
“Or just the estate in general.”
“William handles the estate and I can’t think of a legal matter that would keep him up all night.”
Zach rose from the stool and wrapped his arms around her. “There’s no use worrying about it now. We’ll know everything in thirty minutes.”
“You’re right. I’m going to take a shower before he gets here. Maybe the steam will help clear my mind.”
He kissed her before releasing her.
“I’m almost done with the locks. I’ll do another check of the windows while you’re showering.”
“Thanks,” she said and headed for the shower.
She was pulling her hair back into a ponytail when she heard Zach call out that Carter was there. She took a deep breath and headed into the living room, where Carter stood next to Zach.
He looked as if he’d been through hell. His face was drawn and dark circles pooled below his eyes. His posture was stiff and she could see his jaw flexing.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked. “I put on coffee.”
He looked so grateful, she felt sorry for him.
“That would be great,” he said.
“Take a seat,” she said and waved her hand at the kitchen table. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”
He slid into one of the chairs and Zach took a seat across from him as she poured three cups of coffee and carried them to the table.
“I feel like I’m about to keel over. I’m going straight to bed for a couple hours when I leave here, but I had to talk to you first.” He took a big sip of the coffee. “You said you had something to tell me?”
Danae slid into the chair next to him. “Yes,” she said and filled him in on what had happened the night before, only leaving out the part about her and Zach getting naked.
Carter stiffened as she described the attack and then slammed one hand on the table and cursed. “He could have killed you!”
“Zach and I talked about that,” Danae said. “But if he wanted to kill me, he could have when I was in the shower.”
Carter shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You came out of the bathroom before he’d finished whatever he was doing. You changed the game, and he had to change accordingly. If you hadn’t taken the scissors with you...”
Danae clutched her coffee mug with both hands, just realizing they were shaking.
Carter placed his hand on her arm. “You were smart and it might have saved your life. I don’t suppose you can tell me exactly where you stabbed him, can you?”
“I think so.” She motioned to Zach. “Can you stand behind me and put your arm around my neck?”
They stood and Zach did as she’d described.
“I had the scissors in my right hand,” she said. “I brought my arm up and stabbed like this.” She mimicked the movement.
Carter nodded. “Probably the middle of the forearm.”
“Are you going to try to find someone with that injury in Calais?” Zach asked as they took their seats again.
“I might not have to.” He blew out a breath and ran one hand through his hair. “Look, I was going to come talk to you even before you called. Something happened last night and I don’t want you hearing it around town.”
Danae felt her stomach clutch.
“Jack Granger was murdered.”
A waved of nausea rolled over her and she put her hands on the table to steady herself as the blood rushed from her head.
“How...? You’re sure it was...?”
Carter nodded. “He was stabbed, which is why I asked about the location of the wound on your attacker.”
“If you find one on his arm,” Zach said, “then you’ll know he was the one stalking Danae, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Carter said and frowned. “I don’t want to distress you any more than I already have. I know Jack was a friend, of
sorts, anyway. Let’s just say that he didn’t go down without a fight.”
Danae gasped, the image of the disgruntled cook fighting to his death rolling through her mind like a horror movie. “Oh, my God. Who found him?”
“His girlfriend, Cherise. She’s a bit of a wreck. Doc Broussard gave her something to knock her out and my mom’s taking care of her for now.”
Danae nodded, trying to force her overwhelmed mind to focus. “That’s good. Your mother will know what to do. She always does.”
You’re rattling.
She clenched her hands and released then clenched again, trying to work out some of her frustration, fear and anger without losing control.
“There’s more,” Carter said. “We searched his house—standard procedure—and we found a key to the front door of the LeBeau mansion.”
“He did errands for Purcell, right?” Danae asked. “So I guess it’s not completely shocking that he had a key, although I think William asked him about it a while back and he said he didn’t have one.”
“That’s right,” Carter confirmed. “In addition to the key, we found the phone number for the guy who attacked Alaina on a pad of paper in his desk drawer.”
She gasped. “You think he helped that man get to Alaina?”
Carter sighed, his expression sad. “I don’t want to, but I think Jack was at a place where he would have done anything for money. It wouldn’t have taken much for someone to find out his situation and capitalize on it.”
“How could he?” Danae asked. “How could he help someone with murder?”
Carter shook his head. “I’d like to think he was told it was just a prank or that Alaina had something her attacker needed to steal. I don’t think Jack was so far gone that he’d willingly agree to murder. At least, I don’t want to think that.”
“But if he attacked me last night...”
“You said yourself that if he wanted to kill you, he could have,” Carter pointed out. “The bigger question is, who killed Jack?”
