Bayou Judgment

by Robin Caroll

  “Almost done in here?” Luc hovered in the doorway.

  Her brother couldn’t see her crying—it’d just confirm his belief that she shouldn’t be alone. “Only this last one.”

  He lifted the cardboard box with ease and hollered over his shoulder. “Tara says to tell you she’s almost done with setting up your kitchen.”

  Felicia couldn’t stop the edges of her mouth from tweaking into a smile as she moved to the hallway. CoCo’s youngest sister was a fireball. Tara had more spunk than either CoCo or Alyssa. No one would tell Tara LeBlanc what she could or couldn’t do. They wouldn’t dare. Maybe Felicia should take a lesson or two from her.

  Spence met her in the hall. “That about everything?” His eyes sparkled, almost brighter than her ring.

  Felicia’s heartbeat quickened, and she struggled to ignore it. No, she couldn’t be attracted to him. He was her boss. Besides, it was too soon, a little over a year since Frank had died. She hadn’t stopped grieving. Had she? No, she only felt like this because Spence was one of the few people who didn’t stare at her with pity. He admired her strength—hadn’t he told her several times since her surgery? It was not attraction she felt, but gratitude, yes? Had to be. “Yeah. I just need to turn these keys in to Mr. McRae.”

  “Let me. You need to see what they’re doing in your apartment. Make sure they put everything where you can find it.” He took the two keys from her hand and grinned. Did his smile have to be as bright as his eyes?

  Her fingers tingled where they’d made contact with his. Not attraction, gratitude, she reminded herself. She’d do well to distinguish between the two.

  She double-checked the entry closet. A single sweater hung on a hanger. Felicia snatched the bright yellow pullover free, clutching it against her chest. The distinct perfume Jolie always wore lingered on the soft knit. Felicia shook her head. Jolie had borrowed the sweater the night she’d been murdered. Why was it hanging alone in the closet? She’d boxed up everything earlier, hadn’t she? Strange, very strange.

  A boisterous laugh rang out from the complex. Felicia turned, catching sight of CoCo and Alyssa good-naturedly nudging each other as they carried empty boxes to the Dumpster, apologizing to a young woman they nearly jostled off the walkway. A lump the size of Louisiana lodged in her throat as memories accosted her. Jolie bouncing on Felicia’s bed to share details of a great date. Teasing her about not leaving wet towels on the floor. Sharing Scriptures and secrets together in stolen moments.

  She allowed a final few tears to trail down her cheeks before leaving the apartment and shutting the door behind her. Shutting off the pain, she closed off another death of someone she loved.

  The afternoon breeze carried a hint of rain. Felicia trudged across the courtyard, leaning heavily on her cane and clutching her sweater. This was it. Everything had been transferred to the new apartment. She took a moment to look back at her old one.

  I won’t forget you, Jolie. I’ll find your killer and then you can rest in peace. I owe you that much.

  Did she have to look so fragile? Broken, yet strong?

  Spencer hauled in a deep breath and turned from the window. Felicia’s family and friends were putting the finishing touches on setting up the new apartment. How they’d managed to get everything moved and unboxed, much less put away, in just a day was beyond him. The love these people had for Felicia warmed his heart. But he still couldn’t help wishing she’d stayed at her family’s home instead of moving back into these apartments. Wouldn’t painful memories stalk her every step here? Was she even safe?

  He drew himself up short. It wasn’t any of his business. She was a nice girl, a good employee, a strong Christian. He had no right to worry about her emotional state. He’d best get those random thoughts right out of his head.

  “So, how’s it look? Anything we need to change?” CoCo asked Felicia as soon as she entered.

  “Wow. I had no idea y’all would get everything put up for me.”

  Tara snorted. “Well, if you can’t find a certain pot or pan, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

  “I appreciate what you’ve done.” Felicia glanced over each person in turn. “All of you.”

  “Allons, let’s look at your bedroom.” CoCo wrapped an arm around Felicia and led her down the hall.

  No need for him to stay any longer. He stepped into their path. “I need to get back to the center.”

  Felicia nodded. “I’ll see you on my shift.”

  “You don’t have to come in tonight. I imagine you’re beat.”

  “No. I’ll be there.” Determination rested in her delicate features.

  He could tell it wouldn’t do him any good to argue with her. “See you later, then.”

  He headed to the front door, wiping his hands against the rough denim of his jeans. To his surprise, Luc met him on the sidewalk. “Mind if I walk you out?”

  By the look in Luc’s eyes, he had something serious on his mind. “Sure.”

  They reached his truck before Luc spoke. “I’m concerned about Felicia.”

  “I am, too.” Spencer dug the keys from his pocket, jangling them at the door.

  “I wonder if I could ask you to keep an eye on her while she’s at the center? At first I didn’t want her to work, but at least if she’s there with you, she’s safer than being here alone.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Luc.”

  “Merci. I appreciate it.” He popped his knuckles. “She has a stubborn streak a mile wide, but if she comes into any danger, I’ve already told her I’ll pack her up and take her back home.”

  Spencer would almost pay to see that. He could imagine the fire in Felicia’s eyes if Luc even tried it. He suddenly got a vision of her eyes dancing with anger. Interesting that he imagined she’d be all the more attractive. No, he had to keep his mind free of such thoughts. “I’ll keep an eye on her as best I can.”

  Luc nodded and retreated to the sidewalk as Spencer backed out of the parking place and steered toward the center. Conflicting thoughts battled for his attention. On one hand, Spencer could understand Luc’s protectiveness toward Felicia—she was his little sister, had been handicapped until recently and had suffered such grief in the past year. On the flip side, he could relate to Felicia’s attitude—needing her independence, wanting to deal with the pain herself and not wanting people to walk on eggshells around her. The situation called for a very delicate balance, and Spencer felt as if he’d landed in the middle of the crossfire.

  He parked his truck in his designated spot and marched into the center. Ringing phones and voices merged into a steady hum.

  Good to be back on familiar ground.

  Once in his office, he read his messages from his assistant. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as his heartbeat raced. Sheriff Theriot had called and needed to speak to him ASAP.

  Had they run a background check on him? He gripped the paper tighter. Garrison. Spencer knew there’d be trouble for him when Jon Garrison had showed up at Jolie’s funeral. The sheriff probably couldn’t wait to ask Garrison why he’d been there. Jon Garrison would dump the whole sorry story out to the police. Just what Spencer didn’t need.

  What to do? The church’s elders knew about his past, but they were the only ones he’d told. He’d never lied, he just hadn’t expounded on his experiences. But he couldn’t sweep his past under the rug with the police. His congregation and friends, yes, but not law enforcement. They knew everything. Or would soon enough.

  If he ignored the message, they’d either call again or just show up. No, better to just get it over with over the phone. He dialed the number on the message and asked to speak to the sheriff.

  “Sheriff Theriot.”

  “This is Spencer Bertrand returning your call.” His tongue thickened instantly.

  “Pastor. I’m looking over your statement about Jolie Landry.”

  “Yes?” Lord, please give me strength.

  “I was wondering if you kept records, logs or something, of all the c
alls that come into the center.”

  “We keep logs, and I mean that in the loosest sense of the word. Each operator keeps a record of their calls, a brief description of the situation, what they advised, if it was transferred to me, that kind of thing.”

  “We’ll need to see copies of Jolie Landry’s records for the past month.”

  His heart raced. There couldn’t be a tie between Jolie’s death and the center. His center. His personal atonement. “Sheriff, I want to help, I truly do, but those records are confidential. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I figured you’d say that, but had to ask. We’ll be getting a warrant to get copies of them, Pastor.”

  His tongue felt twenty sizes too big for his mouth. “We’ll abide by any warrant.”

  “I know you will.”

  Spencer hung up the phone. His shirt stuck to his back, glued with sweat. Relief that his secret was still safe washed over him, but for how long? This was it—his worst nightmare come true. How long would it take the sheriff to check on him? Being a preacher didn’t exempt him from police inquiries.

  He lowered his head into his hands. When the sheriff got around to it, Spencer would be their number-one suspect. Case closed. He could hear the prison bars locking into place behind him.

  Father, help me.

  FIVE

  “I’m looking for Sadie Thompson.” Felicia made certain her voice didn’t quiver as she held on to the phone.

  “She’s not here right now. Who is this?” the nasal-toned voice pressed her.

  “I’ll call back later.” Felicia hung up the phone with a clank, her hands trembling. The police didn’t seem to have any clues about Jolie’s case yet, so she had decided to give them a helping hand.

  She glanced around the kitchen with its sunny marigold curtains. She couldn’t believe she was taking an active role in this investigation. But Jolie’d been her best friend. Felicia owed it to her to see her killer brought to justice.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Felicia jumped, and her overworked leg muscles spasmed along with her heart. Get a grip, girl, it’s just someone knocking on the door. No murderers waiting to pounce on her. She grabbed her cane and hobbled to the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Wes.”

  She flipped the dead bolt, glancing at her watch as she did. Only an hour before the driver would arrive to take her to work. “Wes, come on in.”

  The handsome man followed her inside, but didn’t look as dashing as usual. His hair had a greasy sheen to it, dark circles weighted his eyes and no air of pricey cologne wafted in his wake. Grief. Felicia knew the signs all too well. “Sit down.”

  He flopped onto the couch, grabbing the throw pillow, splaying his fingers across the green chenille tassels. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She sat in the chair adjacent to the couch and finger-brushed her shower-damp hair. “I miss her, too.”

  “I don’t know if I can go on without her. I loved her. I hadn’t told her yet, had meant to the night she…she…” His eyes filled with tears.

  Mirroring tears burned her eyes. “I need to ask you something. Why were you spending time with Sadie?”

  “It was only once. She’d asked me to meet her about some religious issues. Whoever saw us and told Jolie, well, they were trying to stir up trouble between us.”

  Deep inside, Felicia had known he hadn’t cheated on Jolie. “I’m sorry.”

  He blinked several times, his fingers toying with the tassel. “It’s not just that. The police are giving me a hard time.”

  “How so?”

  “They’re treating me like a suspect.”

  “They’re questioning all of us, Wes, not just you. Everybody who had contact with Jolie over the past couple of weeks.” She laid a hand over his. “They’re trying to find any hint of who could’ve done such a horrible thing.”

  “No, the sheriff’s asked to search my house and car.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I think he’s looking to pin this on me.”

  “He can’t suspect you.” The implications rammed against her common sense. “Why, that’s ludicrous. You were in love with her.”

  “You know the old story—they always look to the husband or boyfriend first.” He let out a deep sigh. “I have to give him an answer today. If I refuse, he says he’ll get a warrant.”

  What could Sheriff Theriot be thinking? Then Felicia remembered how she’d recently watched the national news run an in-depth special on overeager law officers and their twisting of evidence to gain convictions. But here in Lagniappe? Surely the sheriff would do a thorough investigation—he’d always impressed her with his values. He was a Christian man, a pillar in the church and the community. Caring and kind.

  She squeezed his hands. “I want you to listen to me carefully. You need to hire yourself a lawyer.”

  “A lawyer?” His voice hitched.

  “Yes, a lawyer. Try calling Dwayne Williams. My brother’s fiancée used him last year and was pleased with how he handled her case.”

  His eyes took on an earnest look. “Felicia, I promise you, I didn’t kill Jolie.”

  As she studied him, she knew he told the truth. “I know you didn’t.”

  “Who do you think did?”

  Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

  “I think it’s someone Kipp was involved with. All those gambling debts, loan sharks, threats…I think someone killed Jolie to scare Kipp.”

  He nodded. “Me, too. She said Kipp had gotten in with some nasty characters.”

  “She told me the same thing. I told the sheriff that.”

  “So did I, but I don’t think he believes a word I say.”

  “It may seem that way, but the truth will eventually come out.”

  “I hope so. You know, there are a lot of people on death row who claim they’re innocent.” He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I don’t want to end up one of them.”

  She didn’t want him to, either. If Luc and CoCo had not figured out that Uncle Justin killed Grandfather, either of them could very well have been among those innocents in prison. What had happened to the justice system? In the past several years, it seemed that the truth no longer mattered—only that someone paid for a crime. Lady Justice was supposed to be blind, but that didn’t mean the police were supposed to be, as well.

  “I don’t think the police are following up on Kipp’s associates.” His words were mumbled.

  “They haven’t been able to locate him yet. We’ll just keep praying they do, and that he can give them names.” But that posed an interesting question—why hadn’t the police found him? Sure, they said they’d been looking, but how hard could it be to find someone in an area as small as the Lagniappe community?

  He got to his feet. “Thanks, Felicia. I think I’ll call that Dwayne Williams.”

  “Good idea.” She walked him to the door. “Try to think positive, although I know it’s hard.” She opened the door and then drew back when she saw a shadow hovered on the threshold. She gasped, then exhaled slowly as her eyes adjusted to the approaching dusk.

  Luc filled the doorway, his brows scrunched into a straight line and his eyes narrowed. He shot a glare at her visitor as he made his exit.

  Wes nodded and edged by her brother. “Luc.”

  “Wesley.”

  “You could’ve just sent the driver, yes?” Felicia waved Luc inside. My, wasn’t this the day for visitors?

  “What was he doing here?” Luc shut the door firmly.

  “Visiting. A common social occurrence, from what I gather.”

  “He’s a suspect in Jolie’s murder.”

  Her sauciness raised a level. She faced off with her brother, her hand planted firmly on her hip. “Just like you were in Grandfather’s murder.”

  “But I was innocent.”

  “So is Wes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Same way I knew with you. He’s not capable of killing someon
e he loved.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “Yes, I can.” She sank back onto the chair. “Are you questioning my ability to judge a person’s character?”

  Luc dropped to the couch and ran a hand over his head. “Yes…no…I don’t know, Boo. All I know is someone killed Jolie in your apartment, and you’re all alone. I don’t like it.”

  Just when she’d worked up a good bit of righteous anger, he had to throw in brotherly concern. Her frustration abated, she softened her tone. “I know you are, and I love you all the more for it. But, Luc, I’m going to be fine.”

  “There’re no guarantees in life.”

  “I know that better than anyone. But I also know God won’t leave me alone. And He loves me more than you ever can.”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “Okay, you win. But I’m not going to stop worrying about you.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Mom’s taking your leaving again pretty hard.”

  “I’m sure. She called me four times last night with her continuous theatrics.”

  Luc shook his head. “It’s more than that. She’s been nipping the brandy again.”

  “And I suppose that’s my fault, yes?” Felicia let out a loud sigh. It was always something with Hattie Trahan, drama queen extraordinaire.

  “I’m not blaming you, I’m just telling you what’s what.”

  She gritted her teeth. She would not gather her things for a guilt trip. Her mother used drinking to manipulate people, Felicia and Luc along with everyone else. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “True. But it’s a depressed drinking now.”

  “Then make her go to counseling, rehab, whatever.”

  Luc snorted. “Like I can make her do anything?”

  “Well, you aren’t making me move back home, if that’s what you were hoping to accomplish.”

  “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

  “And I’m just telling you I don’t need you to be my protector. I’m fine.” She stood. “I’ll be okay, Luc, but I’m worn out from these constant arguments. If you can’t stop bringing it up, I’ll hire my own driver—one you’re not paying for.”