Bayou Judgment

by Robin Caroll

  Should he try calling again?

  He reached for the phone. His truck hydroplaned and fishtailed, the hood heading for the ditch. Spencer jerked his hand back to the wheel and steadily brought the truck under control. Water splashed against the undercarriage. Tires sung against the drenched pavement.

  Thank you, Lord.

  The snail’s pace antagonized him, but he couldn’t risk picking up speed. He wouldn’t be much help to Felicia if he got in an accident. Grinding his teeth, he drove as slow as a snake in winter.

  His phone rang. He jerked it from the console, never taking his eyes from the road. “Hello?”

  “Pastor? This is Sheriff Theriot.”

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to let you know Felicia hit on something.”

  “What?”

  “Those knives. They are rather expensive. Miller’s has gotten us a list of all the orders of people who purchased them in the past three months.”

  “And?” Spencer didn’t need to play guessing games while he drove.

  “Felicia was right. None of the Ellenders have bought them.”

  “So, what are you telling me?”

  “We’re still talking to everyone on the list, checking and making sure they have the complete set of knives.”

  “But?”

  “There’s a chance she might be right. Wesley could be innocent.”

  “And if he is?”

  “Then we go back to square one. That means there still might be a link between the murder and your center.” The sheriff paused. “And that means he’s still out there.”

  All the more reason to get to Felicia and check on her. The killer could still be on the loose.

  Indisposed? Did that mean dead?

  Felicia clutched her hands in front of her and watched Winnie silently pace. The silent part worried Felicia. As long as Winnie talked, there was a hope, no matter how small, that this situation could end calmly. Even if Winnie ranted and raved and acted like a lunatic, at least she was communicating. But now…silence hovered in the room like a peeping Tom.

  Besides the worry, Felicia wanted answers. “How, exactly, is he indisposed?”

  Winnie plunked onto the edge of the chair and grinned. A wicked expression, really. “He’s just, uh, unavailable right now. Probably for a long time to come, too.” She laughed that callous cackle of hers.

  It unnerved Felicia. Something lingered just outside the fuzzy edges of Felicia’s memory. Some detail Winnie had said that struck a chord. What? She’d already recalled Winnie had slipped up about the wheelchair. No, that wasn’t it. Some important point.

  If only she could remember.

  Another memory invaded her. Spence’s goodbye kiss. Actually, kisses. All over her face. Her heart flipped as she recalled how deep her love for him ran when he’d kissed her.

  “What’re you smiling about?”

  Felicia jerked her thoughts back into line. How could she have been daydreaming in such a situation? Must be the painkillers. She snapped her full attention to Winnie. “I’m not. I’m wondering why you’re being so cagey, yes? Why don’t you just spit out what you did to him?”

  Winnie laughed again. “I don’t think so. It goes much deeper than your approval, princess.”

  What couldn’t she remember? What had Winnie said…something she commented on?

  “Deep enough that you could face legal actions if anyone found out? Is that really why you’re mad? Because the center notified the police about your plans for revenge?”

  Laughter fled from Winnie. “Like I’d tell you if that were right?”

  “I’d hope so. I mean, coming here, attacking me, holding me against my will…don’t you think that’s illegal?”

  The darkness returned to Winnie’s stare. “Good point, princess.”

  Great. She’d gone and done it again—let her mouth overload herself. She’d better think fast or she’d be up a swamp with no airboat.

  “But, not if nobody ever knows.”

  Winnie crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, and I’m supposed to believe you won’t tell anyone?”

  “If I give you my word I won’t, then I won’t.”

  “Like my calls to you at the center weren’t supposed to be discussed with anyone else?”

  Oops, Winnie had her there. What was it Luc always preached—the best defense is a strong offense?

  “You were threatening bodily harm to someone. We had no choice. I’ve already explained the situation.” As soon as she said the words, she realized how ridiculous that argument sounded. Winnie had already done more to her than merely threaten her with bodily harm. “That decision was out of my hands. This one isn’t.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” She shook her head.

  “Past experience and all that, ya know?”

  Distract her. That was Felicia’s only chance.

  “I’m really curious. How’d you get revenge?” She noted the scowl twisting on Winnie’s forehead. “Oh, don’t tell me about the ex if you don’t want to. I’m wondering about his new girlfriend. The one who stole him from you.” Felicia’s words tumbled over themselves. “I know you said she left. How’d you manage that?”

  “I’m very resourceful when I need to be.”

  “I’m sure you are. Still, the information might come in handy. Just in case a guy dumps me again.” No way would Winnie buy such a load of lies. Better think fast, something else to keep her talking.

  But Winnie surprised her by sitting back on the chair. “You’d never be able to take it to the extremes I did.”

  “Try me. I’m more determined than I look.” Felicia jutted out her chin in the way Luc always claimed showed off her stubborn streak.

  Winnie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not hardly, princess. You work at a crisis center, for pity’s sake.”

  Score two for Winnie. But Felicia was still in the game. Winnie hadn’t gone berserk again. The talking was working. She just had to keep at it.

  Until what? Someone showed up to save her?

  No, she couldn’t depend on anyone. She’d made too much of a fuss for anyone to try to take care of her. Had she shot herself in the foot with her demands to be left alone?

  And then the lights flickered in the apartment.

  Lights down the street extinguished with a pop.

  Great. On top of everything else, a blackout. Spencer slowed his truck to less than five miles per hour. His headlights pierced the darkness. No vehicles approached. No lights glimmered in his rearview. The sensation of being totally alone almost smothered him.

  He pulled into the apartment’s parking lot and let out a long sigh of relief. Muscles in his neck bunched and twisted. He secured the bag of food under his arm, slipped out of his truck and stepped into water that covered his feet. Ducking his head against the driving wind and rain, he ran toward the walkway.

  His shin made contact with something hard and unyielding, leaving him sprawled across the concrete. The bag flew across the courtyard and landed with a splat.

  Spencer rolled to his back, gripping his smarting shin. So dark out here…what had he run into? He pushed into a sitting position and groped about in the darkness. Sure didn’t want to chance hitting the unrelenting object again.

  His hand made contact with cold metal. He ran his hand along the metal, gauging it to be about two feet high and not even a foot in front of him. Using the object as support, he pushed to his feet. He steered clear of the offending thing, veering left on his way around the corner.

  Gait slowed by the ache in his shin, Spencer felt along the walkway. He counted the doors to Felicia’s.

  One.

  Wind pushed sheets of rain against him.

  Two.

  Sirens screamed off in the distance. Pressure brakes of large trucks hissed from the road.

  Three. Only two more doors to go.

  Hiss!

  Something rubbed against his sore shin. He jumped back and slipped on the slick concrete. H
is feet flew out from under him. He landed on his rear with an agonizing thud while water splashed up in his face.

  Meow.

  Stupid cat. Jumping out at him like that.

  “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” an elderly woman called out over the wind.

  Kitty? The thing was a nuisance. A threat to society, creeping up on unsuspecting citizens in the dark.

  The cat gave a final hiss and brushed past him. Spencer dug his fingers into the brick wall and pulled himself to his feet. Now his tailbone joined his shin in vying for his attention. Pain was a great motivator.

  In the pitch blackness, disorientation came easily. Had he already passed the third door when he fell? Or had it been the fourth?

  Beams of light shot into the sky. Electric company workers searching for the source of the outage.

  Now he remembered. He ran his hand along the wall again. Four.

  An unusual smell ripped by on the wind. Like burning rope. Oh, no, he prayed the power outage wasn’t due to fire. His determination to get to Felicia increased tenfold.

  Five.

  Spencer edged toward Felicia’s door. He didn’t want to alarm her, but if she wasn’t answering the phone…

  He’d left it unlocked.

  With rain-slicked hands, he grabbed the knob and turned.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The doorknob rattled.

  Thunk!

  Felicia groaned against the weight in her lap as Winnie climbed on top of her and wrapped an arm around Felicia’s neck. “What’re you up to?”

  “It’s a power outage. From the storm,” Felicia croaked. Winnie’s forearm dug into her throat, nearly cutting off Felicia’s breath. Felicia tugged, using her nails.

  Winnie released her and dropped her voice. “Stop clawing me. And be quiet.”

  “Get off of me.” Felicia shoved Winnie as hard as she could. A bump sounded against the coffee table.

  The door rattled again.

  “What’s that?” Winnie asked in a whisper.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the wind hitting the door? I have a candle on the end table and matches in the drawer.”

  “Don’t you try anything funny.”

  Felicia let out a snort and shifted down to the end of the couch. She fumbled in the dark for the drawer handle, got a hard grip and yanked it open. The drawer crashed to the floor. Loose items rolled across the hardwood floor as the drawer’s contents scattered.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “I dropped the drawer.” Felicia lowered herself to the floor, taking care not to hit her injured leg, and felt around.

  Lipstick. No, Chapstick. She spread her hands to the right.

  A pad of sticky notes. A pen. Breath mints?

  Pounding against the door. A neighbor? Who would come out in this weather?

  “Felicia. Are you okay? It’s Spence.”

  Hope shot through her until a strong jerk of her hair snapped her head back. Felicia groaned.

  “Don’t move and don’t you dare say a word. Let him think you aren’t here,” Winnie grated against Felicia’s face.

  “He knows I’m here. I’ve got a hurt leg, remember?”

  “Then stay quiet and light the candle.” Winnie’s hand tangled in Felicia’s tresses.

  “I’m trying to find the matches.”

  Winnie dropped beside her, still keeping a tight hold of Felicia’s hair but with less force. Items shifted on the floor. Winnie shoved something into Felicia’s hand. “Here.”

  A lighter? How’d a lighter end up in her drawer? She didn’t smoke.

  “Felicia. Answer me.” Spence’s voice rose above the raging the storm.

  “I’ll let you go just long enough to light the candle. Try anything and I’ll slice you worse than your curtains,” Winnie hissed.

  Felicia maneuvered back to the couch and groped for the pillar candle. She located the tall column of wax and reached to flick the lighter over the wick, then hesitated. Revelation dawned on her. Slicing—knife!

  The police hadn’t ever mentioned Jolie had been stabbed to death. That news hadn’t been available to the media. But Winnie had said “knife” when they’d talked about Wes being arrested.

  How did Winnie know? And how’d Winnie know Felicia’s curtains had been sliced to shreds?

  An anonymous female caller had phoned the center and told Jolie that Wes had been with Sadie. An anonymous tip to the police had told them about the knife hidden in Wes’s car. Did Winnie know Wes?

  More pounding on the door. “Felicia, I’m going to break down this door if you don’t answer me right now.”

  Her mouth felt gummy. The only way Winnie could know those things was if she…she was the killer and the intruder! Felicia fisted her hand, the lighter digging into her palm.

  Winnie murdered Jolie!

  No, it couldn’t be. Winnie didn’t know Jolie. But how else…?

  “What’s taking so long?” Winnie’s hand gripped Felicia’s leg. Her sore leg.

  She cried out and jerked her leg from Winnie’s grasp.

  “Felicia! I’m coming in.” Panic laced Spence’s words.

  Winnie grabbed Felicia by the arms and dragged her down the hall, bumping into furniture and walls along the way.

  “Spence, help!”

  Winnie released her long enough to smack her upside the head. Felicia let out a scream and clawed at Winnie’s face. Winnie slapped away her hand and continued down the hall.

  A loud thump rammed against the door, followed by a grunt.

  “The dead bolt’s locked. Call the police,” Felicia shouted.

  Winnie rewarded her with a fist to the jaw.

  Felicia’s head whipped to the side. Stinging crept from her jawbone up her check and down her neck. The tangy taste of copper filled her mouth. She pressed a hand to her mouth. When she pulled it away, sticky moisture coated her hand.

  Winnie flung them into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. In the dark, she fiddled with the knob. The lock turned with a resounding click. Seconds later, hot breath blasted against Felicia’s face. “Now we won’t be bothered.”

  Fear didn’t seep into her bloodstream like Felicia expected. Instead, hope sprung forth. Spence would call the police, and in a matter of minutes, they’d be knocking down her door. She just had to distract Winnie long enough. And she had a distinct advantage—she knew the layout of her bedroom. In the dark, Winnie wouldn’t see the nooks and crannies.

  She tried to scoot to the bed, but Winnie grabbed her. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?”

  Tendrils of wind thrashed outside the window, making a hissing sound. The thick smell of rain hung over the air, even inside the apartment. Felicia inhaled deeply, drawing in strength.

  “I’m trying to get my leg out of its awkward position. You dragged me, yes?”

  Winnie loosened her hold. “Do you have a flashlight or candle in here?”

  “No. When you trashed my place, you broke them all.”

  “Oh.” Then the air whooshed from Winnie. “Figured it out, did ya, princess?”

  “That you broke into my place and ripped it to shreds? Oh, yeah, I got that.” Figured out that you killed Jolie, too. But she wouldn’t share that bit of information just yet. “I just don’t understand why.”

  The bed ruffle rustled as Winnie moved. Felicia tested the area toward the bathroom with her other hand. No contact. So, Winnie’d shifted toward the window. Felicia held her breath and scooted about two feet toward the bathroom.

  It, too, had a lock.

  “What’s that pastor doing out there?”

  “Calling the police, I’m sure,” Felicia said loudly. Maybe Winnie wouldn’t notice Felicia had moved farther away. “What’re you going to do?”

  “I’m thinking,” Winnie snapped. Her voice sounded as if she stood by the window, a good distance from the bathroom door.

  Felicia chanced another scoot. Two more feet.

  “You’re so much more trouble than you’re worth.
Always stirring up more problems for me. It’s always something. Even my so-called friend called the center to warn that hussy, but it was already too late.”

  The cry of sirens shouted into the dark night.

  “The game’s up, Winnie. You’d better concentrate on escaping.” Another foot to the bathroom without detection.

  “Shut up.” Fabric swished. “Does this window go up all the way?”

  Felicia hesitated. She wanted to get away from Winnie, but she also wanted the police to catch her. Besides, she was almost in the bathroom. Her hand pressed against the cold ceramic tiles. “Sometimes it catches.”

  “Let me see if it’s locked.” More fabric moving.

  Bam! Bam!

  Winnie gasped. The mattress squeaked as weight landed on it.

  Sucking in air as well, Felicia scooted herself into the bathroom. She leaned to close the door, but it stuck against the rug.

  “Felicia! Can you hear me?” Spence shouted from the window. “Can you hear the police? They’re coming. Hold on.”

  Sure enough, the sirens were louder.

  “I need to get rid of him. He’s a nuisance,” Winnie mumbled more to herself than Felicia. The mattress creaked.

  Would Winnie find something to hurt Spence? Felicia’s heart twisted. Forget locking herself in the bathroom until the police got here—she had to do something to protect Spence. She couldn’t just hide anymore. “Like you did Jolie?”

  “What?” Footfalls on the rug. A jarring of the dresser. Clanks and bumps as Winnie groped about. Looking for a weapon?

  “Felicia. Where are you? I’m going to break the window.”

  “You mean, get rid of him like you did Jolie?” What could she use to protect Spence? She couldn’t reach the medical scissors in the medicine cabinet.

  “She took my man. My Wesley.”

  Felicia felt sick. No, she had to concentrate. Had to find a weapon of sorts.

  “So, you put the knife in his car and called the police, all to get revenge on him for dumping you?”

  “I’m about to throw a rock in. Move out of the way,” Spence yelled.

  Rustling, scraping and oomphing drowned out Spence’s voice. Winnie must’ve lodged something against the window.