Bayou Judgment

by Robin Caroll

  Luc and CoCo had overcome so much adversity and problems. To see them now, happy and so in love, filled Spencer’s heart with pure joy. Who knew, maybe if those two could make it despite the odds stacked against them, there might be hope for him and Felicia.

  He cut off his thoughts and stared out the window. The sun had faded, and now dark clouds loomed heavy in the southern sky. The hint of rain whispered on the wind blustering over the bayou. A sign? Spencer shook off the ominous sensation settling over him.

  Your will, Father God. I’d rather be asked to resign and be in Your will than to do what I love and be out of it. Forgive me for not trusting You.

  Miller’s had two fancy knife sets in butcher blocks. Felicia stared at them both, taking out a knife from each set and examining them. Too bad she didn’t know what the knife found in Wes’s car looked like. Still, either one of these sets was entirely too elaborate for a bachelor.

  “Hey, Felicia. May I help you?”

  Felicia glanced over her shoulder to find Anna Beth hovering. One of the drawbacks of living in such a small town—everybody knew everybody and their business. Made it a little difficult to do any sleuthing. Or, maybe not. She held up the knives. “Hi, Anna Beth. These are lovely. What can you tell me about them?”

  “These are both nice sets.” Anna Beth pulled one out from the butcher block. “This one in particular is a good seller. See the detail on the handle? Very nice touch.”

  “A good seller, huh?” Felicia sheathed the other knife with a scrape as it slipped into the wood. “But I don’t want it to be so popular that everyone has this set, yes?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t think you have to worry about that. Most of these sets are ordered for special occasions, like weddings or anniversaries. Besides, we only started carrying them three months ago.”

  “Ordered?”

  “My, we don’t stock those expensive things. Both of those are special orders only. Were you looking for a wedding gift for your brother and CoCo?”

  Well, she hadn’t considered that, but maybe…. “Do they take a long time to come in?”

  “Most times we get them within a week of ordering.” Anna Beth replaced the knife into the block. “Would you like me to order you a set?”

  “You just order it, and what, call me when it comes in?”

  Anna Beth nodded. “Most times we have to fill out paperwork and have the customer pre-pay. So we don’t get stuck with something we can’t sell off the shelf, you understand. But I know you, so I can just order.”

  Paperwork! “You know what, Anna Beth? I think I will order a set. And it’d be so much easier on me to go ahead and do your paperwork and pay for it. Then I can just have someone come pick it up for me, yes?”

  “Perfect. Do you know which set you prefer?”

  Felicia tapped her chin. “Actually, is there any way you can check and see how many have been ordered in the past few months? I’d want to order the one that’s ordered the least. Wouldn’t want CoCo to have a set that matches any of her friends.”

  Anna Beth nodded. “Good idea. Yes, we keep the record orders. Allons back to my desk, and we’ll access the computer.”

  Missy popped her gum and stared as Felicia entered the station. “Need to see the sheriff?”

  Felicia nodded. Better not to say anything. Everybody in Lagniappe knew the old saying—telephone, telegraph, tell Missy.

  Sheriff Theriot arrived momentarily, his face scrunched into a disapproving stare. “What can I help you with, Felicia?”

  “I need to talk to you.” She tossed a nod toward Missy. “In your office, please.”

  He let out a sigh and opened the swinging door for her. “Come on back.”

  Once in his office, she dropped into a chair. “I’d like to talk to you about your arrest of Wes.”

  “As I’ve already explained, I’m not at liberty to discuss the case with you or anybody else.”

  “But about the knife.”

  He jerked his stare to hers. His held a sternness that darkened his eyes. “Let it go. We’ve done the investigating. The prosecutor’s taking this to trial.”

  “Have you looked into the possibility that Wes may have been set up?”

  The sheriff let out a groan. “C’mon, Felicia. You’ve watched too much television. Setups rarely occur. We have him on motive, means and opportunity. Don’t forget we found the murder weapon in his car.”

  “His unlocked car. And where’d he get that knife, huh? Why’s a bachelor have such an expensive knife? He didn’t have the rest of the set when you searched his house, did he?”

  “Probably got rid of them.”

  Felicia snorted. “But he kept the one with blood under the seat of his car? Please. And those things are pricey. I just ordered one for Luc and CoCo. Those sets are more than a hundred dollars.”

  “The Ellenders aren’t exactly hurting for money.”

  “And, only Miller’s carries them, and they have to be special-ordered and they only started carrying them three months ago. Anna Beth over there told me none of the Ellenders have bought a set.”

  The sheriff shook his head and scowled. “Didn’t I warn you not to interfere in this investigation?”

  “Interfere?” Felicia let out a half groan, half snort. “If you were doing your job, I wouldn’t have to.”

  Sheriff Theriot tossed his glasses onto the desk. “Listen to me, Felicia Trahan. I’m doing my job, and you’re interfering.” He shoved to his feet. “This is it. No more. If you do so much as make a phone call about this case, I’ll arrest you quicker than a frog snaps a fly off a lily pad.” He fisted his hands against the desk and leaned over, daunting and domineering. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “I just can’t stand that you have the wrong man behind bars.”

  He pointed a finger in her face. “That’s not for you to decide. I’m telling you a final time, back off. We’ve got it handled.”

  She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth. “Fine.” She stood. “Just know you have the wrong man. The real killer’s still out there. Live with that.”

  Felicia didn’t even look at Missy as she left the station and slipped into the back seat of her car. Her driver remained silent as well. Probably texting and reporting her visit to Luc. She didn’t care anymore. Right was right.

  She didn’t bother to say anything to the driver as she made her way into the physical therapy clinic. Today was a good day to work out. She needed to release some of her frustrations. Moving to the stationary bike, Felicia dumped her cane and went straight to warming up, not even waiting on Mark.

  How dare the sheriff threaten her? She’d offered up good, sound investigative work. The cooyon! Maybe he was upset because she was doing his job for him? And better.

  “Slow down and take it easy,” Mark chided as he approached her.

  Felicia wiped the sweat from her brow on her shirtsleeve. “Can’t. Luc’s wedding is coming up, and I’m determined to walk without that stupid cane.” At least she had their wedding present taken care of. She shifted to the leg-press machine.

  “You’ve skipped a couple of days, girl. You keep this pace up and you’ll rip something.”

  He’d no sooner got the words out than a pop sounded in Felicia’s left calf, followed by a sharp, searing pain. Dots of color danced before her eyes. She cried out and let the leg-press weight clank back to the base. Her eyes crossed as hot stabs spread throughout her lower leg.

  Mark knelt at her feet and took her leg in his hands.

  Even his gentle touch brought agony. The gasp/groan escaped from her lips.

  He ran his hands over her skin, his fingers probing the muscles.

  Felicia laid back against the bench, crying as the pain threatened to make her pass out. Even the recovery after surgery hadn’t hurt this badly.

  He frowned. “I think you snapped a tendon.”

  She shoved to sitting. “One of the ones they operated on?” Please, not that. They’d have to go back in and reconnect it to
the muscle if she had.

  “I honestly don’t know. We need to get you to the doctor.”

  The flatness of his voice scared her. All the warnings her physician had preached rang in her ears—slow and steady, Felicia, and you’ll have a complete recovery. Now look what she’d gone and done.

  “Can you stand?”

  Mark helped her into a standing position. She kept all her weight on her right leg. “Try putting some pressure on the left leg.”

  As soon as just the tip of her toes made contact with the floor, throbbing pain shot around her calf, twice as intense as before. She cried and clung to Mark, who supported her entire weight as he led her to his car.

  He sped toward the hospital, frequently glancing in his rearview mirror to meet Felicia’s tear-filled stare. She clenched her jaw. The pain didn’t subside. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. The sting just increased. She let out a whimper.

  “Just try to keep it still. Your doctor said he’d meet you at the emergency room.”

  “Thanks.” Through gritted teeth, Felicia tried to be strong, but the ache weakened her. The dancing spots returned. Beads of sweat popped up on her upper lip, feeling as if they weighed as much as a twelve-foot gator. Nausea stirred in her stomach. Numbing tingles spread across her chest. Darkness engulfed her.

  Stabbing pain brought her upright.

  Bright lights nearly blinded her as she blinked into awareness. Clattering and clanking echoed. She tried to move, but warm, gentle hands gripped her shoulders. “It’s okay, Felicia.”

  Spence? How…what? She blinked faster, fighting for orientation.

  “Shh. Relax. The doctor’s looking at your X ray. You’re supposed to keep still.” His voice was as smooth as molasses syrup.

  It all came back to her—overdoing it, the popping, the pain, Mark driving her here.

  She blinked a final time, and Spence finally came into focus. “Wh-what are you doing here? Where’s Mark?” Her mouth felt as if cotton had been jammed down her throat.

  “He had to get back to work. He called me. You passed out on the drive.” Spence smoothed her hair from her face. “Gave him quite a scare, too.”

  “He called you?” Her brain still had cobwebs filling the blank spaces.

  “Well, he tried Luc first, but got his voice mail. So, he got me at the center.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I was only too glad to come.”

  The door swished open and Dr. Guard breezed in. “My, you were really trying to hurt yourself, weren’t you, missy?”

  Heat fanned her face. “How much damage?”

  Dr. Guard raked his gaze over her. “You were lucky. Just a minor muscle torn.”

  “It doesn’t hurt nearly as badly as before.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. We’ve given you an injection of painkillers. You’ll be dopey for the better part of this afternoon.”

  She licked her lips. “Will I need another surgery?”

  “At this point, we don’t think so.”

  Relief flooded her and she smiled.

  “However, young lady, I’m ordering you on complete bed rest for the next week. After that, we’ll run some more tests and I’ll see.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Guard glared. “I mean it, Felicia. You so much as put your body weight on that leg and the tear can enlarge, which will mean another surgery. Or more.”

  She nodded.

  “I want your promise. I don’t like having you mess up my beautiful work.” The doctor kept staring sternly, but his aging eyes twinkled.

  “I promise.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Good.” He handed her a small vial with the logo of the hospital pharmacy. “These are your painkillers. Take one every six to eight hours. Call me if you have any problems, and I’ll see you in my office next Friday at nine.” With a final wave in her direction, the good doctor swept from the room.

  “Whew. What a relief.” Felicia scooted to the end of the examining table.

  “Whoa, there. Let me help you.” Spence grabbed hold of her arm.

  “Just hand me my cane. I know how to walk with it and not put any weight on my leg.”

  Spence glanced around the room. “Uh, I don’t think Mark brought it.”

  “Lovely.” No cane, no driver. She was batting a thousand. At least the painkiller seemed to work. Her leg still throbbed, but the pain had dulled.

  “I’ll swing by Mark’s office and grab it for you.”

  “I don’t want you to g—”

  A nurse shoved open the door and pushed a wheelchair inside. Felicia became increasingly aware how small the room seemed with the added contraption. Or maybe it was the close proximity to Spence that made her feel almost claustrophobic.

  No, it was the wheelchair. She’d lived in one all her life, save the past year. She’d worked hard, endured pain and agony to get out of the contraption, and now, here she faced being in one again.

  Helpless. Crippled.

  “Here we go. Let’s get you into the chair. Your husband can bring around the car.” The nurse locked the brakes on the wheelchair and moved to help Felicia.

  “H-h-he’s not my husband.” Heat scorched her cheeks.

  The nurse placed her hands on her ample hips. “Well, I don’t know why not, honey. He’s a dream. And so concerned about you, too.” She smiled at Spence.

  He turned a delightful shade of red, lowered his head and mumbled that he’d bring the car around.

  Felicia giggled, then clamped a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her? Must be the medication.

  The nurse found it amusing, as well, and Felicia was pretty certain she hadn’t taken any painkillers. She helped Felicia into the wheelchair. “Didn’t mean to embarrass your young man, but he is a looker, honey.” She set Felicia’s feet on the pads and unlocked the brakes. “Better hook that one before someone else does.”

  As the nurse rolled her down the hallway of the hospital toward the front exit, Felicia considered the woman’s words. She’d found Spence attractive ever since she’d met him almost a year ago but had ignored the feelings as she’d been in raw mourning over Frank’s death. Little by little, she and Spence had formed a friendship of mutual affection and respect. But over the past few weeks…well, she’d awakened to just how deeply her feelings for him truly ran.

  She ignored the nurse’s ramblings, trying to concentrate on the conflicting arguments going on inside her head. What about his past—the time he’d spent in prison for trying to kill a man?

  He could’ve killed him, but he didn’t.

  He tried. Admitted he wanted to kill that man.

  That man had raped and murdered his little sister. What would Luc have done?

  He had kept it secret. Hadn’t trusted anyone, not even her.

  For fear of being judged. Hadn’t he been right on that count?

  He had lied.

  Had he?

  The automatic doors opened with a whoosh. Wind scattered dried leaves across the ramp.

  “Gonna have some rain by nightfall,” the nurse said.

  As if on cue, thunder rumbled in the dark clouds.

  Spence pulled his truck curbside, shot out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger door.

  “Such a gentleman,” the nurse clucked.

  Yes, that he was.

  Felicia let out a little groan as they moved her from the chair to the truck. The nurse patted her good leg. “You remember what I told you, honey. Better get him off the market as quick as you can,” she whispered before shutting the door.

  Spence slipped back behind the wheel and glanced at her. “You okay?”

  No words came. Mutely, she nodded.

  “Want to run by and get your cane, or would you rather go home and lie down?”

  Her heart wrenched. Such care and concern lined his face. His very handsome face. His gentle eyes. His strong jaw.

  “You know what,
you look wiped out. I’ll take you home, get you settled, then go get your cane. How’s that?”

  As if she could answer? She nodded again.

  He put the truck in gear, and they were off. Felicia laid her head on the headrest and closed her eyes, soaking in being with Spence.

  Oh, merciful days, she loved him.

  Her heart tripped. What was she supposed to do about that?

  SEVENTEEN

  Would she never stop needing someone to wait on her? Allowing Spence to carry her into her apartment served a large dose of humility to her fledgling pride.

  “Want to lie on the couch or in your bedroom?” He wasn’t even winded from carrying her.

  Her face flamed. What was it with her embarrassment factor today? Something about the image of Spence tucking her into bed felt entirely too intimate. “On the couch, please.”

  He lowered her to the cushions—thank heavens CoCo had delivered them early this morning—and eased a pillow behind her back. “Let me get you a blanket or something.”

  “Hall closet.”

  The man’s attentiveness did nothing to detract from the fact that she loved him. Now she needed to do some soul-searching and have a long talk with God to see what to do about it. “Spence, would you grab my Bible from the bedside table?” Luckily, it’d been in her purse when her place had been trashed.

  He returned with her Bible and the double-wedding-ring quilt her grandmother had made before she passed.

  Was God trying to tell her something?

  After tucking the blanket around her legs, Spence handed her a yellow sweater. “This was in the closet. Thought you could use it.”

  She took the soft knit and drew it close to her chest. The sweater Jolie had asked to borrow the night she was killed. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and wove it tightly around her.

  “Let me get you something to drink so you’ll have it close.”

  “There’s some bottled water in the icebox.”