Broken Bayou

by Rhonda R. Dennis

  “I will,” I say, showing him out. Once he’s gone, I turn to Cal. “I’m going to take a shower. Will you please take me to breakfast afterwards?”

  “Absolutely,” Cal says. “I need lots of caffeine and some food, too.”

  “It won’t take me long,” I say, getting some clothes from my closet and carrying them into the bathroom.

  The hot water running over my tense body doesn’t provide much respite to the tightness of my muscles. Since nearly scalding myself doesn’t work, I try another proven stress reliever—crying. Sobs rack my body as I slide down the wall of the shower. Death is something I don’t handle well, even if it’s someone I don’t really know. Odell was murdered outside of my bedroom. Murdered. A killer is on the prowl and was just outside my door. The sobs turn into borderline hyperventilation, and I force myself to push aside the speculations, or else chance a meltdown of epic proportions. The police are working the case, Cal is by my side, and answers are sure to come soon. Until then, I simply need to hang on.

  Dressing in very plain and simple attire and my hair done in a damp quick braid, I have zero desire to appear presentable to anyone. It’s not until Cal and I are nearly finished with our breakfast that I finally feel the shock wearing off somewhat, and the more time that passes the better I’m able to accept the unfortunate event. Felton gets in contact with Cal to say that Brant’s been in touch with him. No new leads or information on the case, but they are continuing to work on it. Evidently, Odell’s murder is the top priority in the parish at the moment. Cal thanks Felton for the information.

  “Hey.”

  I look in his direction.

  “You were a million miles away.”

  “I know,” I say, shaking it off.

  “You want to stay at my place tonight?”

  I was set to say no, but I don’t think I’ll sleep if I go back to my place. I’m mentally and physically exhausted, so after some brief contemplation, I accept his offer. He asks if I want to stop by my apartment to pick up some clothes, but I shake my head. “Not now. It’s still too soon. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll just pick up something from that shop over there, okay?”

  He nods and instead of driving to his place, he pulls the car into the parking lot of a little boutique. I’m only in the store a few minutes before leaving. “Screw it. Take me to the apartment. I need a toothbrush, hair brush, make up… It’s just easier to pack a bag.”

  Cal half smiles as he pulls back into traffic. We’re in and out of the apartment quickly, and though I don’t feel nearly as uneasy as expected, I’m still nowhere near confident enough to stay. There’s one last stop before heading to Cal’s, and that is swinging by our offices to check our messages and to pick up paperwork for the next day’s lesson.

  Sitting atop my desk is a gift wrapped box with a large white bow. I give Cal a perplexed look. “Did you do this?”

  He shakes his head. “It wasn’t me.”

  My stomach tightens with nerves. I don’t know of anyone else who might send me a gift. Instead of opening it, I rock in my office chair playing out various scenarios in my head. Normally, I’d just rip into the damn thing, but in light of the recent tumult, I consider simply tossing it unopened. I’m not sure how long I zone out, but it’s long enough for Cal to become concerned. “Should I open it for you?”

  A knock at the door stops Cal just as he loosens the bow. “Oh, I’m glad you found it,” Gillian, the departmental secretary says.

  “Do you know who it’s from? There’s no card,” I say.

  “No, the guy didn’t leave a name, and to be honest, that’s why I’m here.” She looks at Cal, embarrassment shows on her face. She nods her head to motion that I should join her in the hallway. Cal holds up a hand to stop us before mentioning his need to run by his office, thereby leaving us to talk in private.

  “What’s with the secrecy?” I ask once he’s in the hall.

  Gillian looks hesitant at first, but finally opens up. “People talk and rumors fly around this campus at lightning speed. If the rumors are true, you and Professor Gage would be…”

  “A couple?” I finish her sentence, while offering her a seat. This conversation is already taking longer than I expected. Once I’m seated behind my desk, I continue. “It’s hardly a secret, but it’s not something we necessarily want to flaunt, either.”

  “I think it’s great. I mean, if that’s what you want…”

  “What am I missing, Gillian?” I give a look meant to encourage the conversation along.

  “The man who left the gift. He’s SO good looking, handsome, and charming… well…”

  “Did he say who he was?” I ask, my curiosity thoroughly piqued.

  “No. He came in wearing this huge grin, and he had the box hidden behind his back. He stopped at my desk to ask if you were in, and when I told him you were out for the day, he said it was for the best because he wanted to surprise you. He’d simply intended to leave the package behind whether you were in or out of the office. He asked me to give you the box, but not before giving me a simultaneous smile and a wink that was so—hot. There’s just no other way to describe it.” She’s lost in her memory of the encounter before drawing her hand to her lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if you’re romantically involved with him, and here I am going on like a lustful bimbo.”

  “Wait,” I say, waving my hand to stop her. “Relax. The only person I’m romantically involved with is Cal, so if the mystery guy interests you, then you have my full permission to pursue him. However, I’m curious as to who he is and why he felt compelled to leave me a gift.” I’m almost scared to hear her reply because it suddenly occurs to me that the only person I can think of is Richie from the furniture store. Is he really her idea of gorgeous? To each her own, I suppose. “Was there anything else that stood out? What did he look like?” I anticipate she’ll say thick mustache, slicked back hair, dressed in a jewel toned mostly unbuttoned shirt, dress slacks, and patent leather loafers.

  She sighs dreamily. “He’s tall, broad shouldered, brown hair, dark green eyes, and is loaded with tattoos. Oh, he spoke with a country accent. So unbelievably sexy!”

  I want to cry. Trying to keep my voice steady, but failing miserably, I ask, “Do you remember what any of the tattoos looked like?”

  She flushes. “Well, the reason I thought you might be involved with him is because he has ‘Cheyenne’ written across his forearm.”

  My breath catches and panic consumes me. I viciously struggle against the overwhelming urge to run away. Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “No. No. No,” I quietly repeat over and over.

  “Uh… are you okay? Should I get someone?” Gillian asks with an uncertain tone.

  “It can’t be. He can’t be here.”

  Giving me an awkward stare, Gillian slowly rises from her chair. “I’m gonna go get Cal.” She’s off like a rocket as soon as she hits the door. Rightfully so, I suppose, being that I’m ranting gibberish. Cal enters the office and softly rubs my forearm once he squats beside my office chair.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Talk to me.”

  “No. No. It can’t be him,” I mumble. Trying to overhear the conversation, Gillian is very slow to shut the door behind her, and once I hear the click, I look to Cal with panic. “It’s Luke. He’s found me.”

  “Luke? As in your ex-husband Luke? Isn’t he supposed to be in prison?”

  I nod my head, and a sob flies out. “He’s not supposed to be out. He tried to kill an officer. They don’t just let people out for crimes like that. He had to have escaped, and now he’s after me.”

  “Are you sure it’s him? Wouldn’t you know if he escaped?” Cal asks.

  “Gillian described him to me. It’s him. No doubt. I was supposed to be informed of any changes in his status, but obviously that didn’t happen. It was him. He left this.”

  “So what’s in the box?” Cal asks, eyeing it suspiciously.

  “I don’t know because I still haven’t opened it. Maybe I sho
uldn’t. I don’t think I want to know what’s in it.”

  “I’m calling Brant,” Cal says, pulling his phone out. “I don’t want you to be scared, sweetheart. We’re going to take care of you, and you’re going to be fine.”

  I shake my head as tears begin to fall. “You don’t know Luke, Cal. He’s going to pay me back for leaving him. He didn’t want the divorce, but I didn’t give him a say in it. I did it anyway. He was so mad about it.”

  “It’s okay. Come here.” Cal pulls me into his arms while he fills in Brant on some of the specifics. Brant instructs us to stay put and promises to arrive on campus shortly. He also requests that we leave the package unopened, which is fine by me.

  It seems like an eternity passes before he enters my office. Obviously on duty because of his attire, he speaks some sort of code into the microphone on his lapel before taking a seat across from me. Cal moves to join him in the other chair beside him then they both stare at me expectantly. When I remain silent, Brant speaks up.

  “Luke Nelson White, thirty-nine years old, was recently released from prison due to overcrowding and good behavior despite an attempted murder charge.”

  I shake my head. “No. I was told that he’d never get out because he tried to kill a police officer. It was supposed to be life in prison automatically—end of story.”

  “Well, I don’t really know how or why he did it, but the officer Luke shot showed up at his parole hearing and petitioned for his release.”

  “What?” I ask. “That makes no sense.”

  “Regardless, he’s going back to prison, and I don’t think he’ll be getting out this time. He broke parole because he hasn’t gotten in touch with his parole officer like he was ordered. If we catch him, he’s done,” Brant states.

  “But how did he find me?” I ask.

  “It’s not very hard to find anyone in this day and age. A simple search of your name surely pulled up the college’s page where you’re listed as faculty. Do you think it was him leaving the roses and such?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not his style at all. He’s very aggressive and rough. Demanding and callous. He believed that his being with me was present enough.”

  “Arrogant punk, isn’t he?” Brant asks.

  I nod. “Very. However, now that I think about it, he may have been the guy in the car—the one following me. That’s more in-line with his style. He was probably trying to find out where I live, but I noticed him before he could get that information.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Brant agrees. “You’re going to have to be extra careful, Cheyenne. That means not going anywhere alone, being very aware of your surroundings, and calling in immediately if you notice anything off or suspicious…”

  I put my head in my palms. “I thought I was done with this. Cal, I’m so sorry, and Brant, I’m sorry for dragging you into this, too. What is it with the dark cloud that seems to be following me lately?”

  “Stop it right now. You didn’t ask for this, and you certainly don’t deserve it,” Cal says. “She can stay with me as long as she needs, and I’m sure my dad would love to help out when I can’t be there,” Cal offers.

  “Good. I’ll give Felton a call and give him the new information. We’ve put it off long enough. I think it’s time to see what’s in the box,” Brant suggests.

  “You can open it. I want nothing to do with the package.” I gesture with my hand to show my contempt.

  Brant gives the box a gentle shake once he raises it close to his ear. Baffled, he sets it back on the desk and gently unwraps the layers of paper and ribbon. Once the top is pulled off, he stares into the box for almost a full minute before clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

  “What is it?” I ask, my head in my hands. Actually, I’m actually afraid to know, but it’s going to happen regardless. Might as well get it over with quickly.

  “I think I know who murdered Odell,” Brant answers.

  “What! What’s in the box?” I yelp, moving to get a peek inside. The name tag from Odell’s janitor’s uniform lays nestled amongst a wad of tissue paper. Beside it is a note. Caught this no good perv at your place. Don’t worry, I’m taking out the competition one dumbass at a time. Professor man is next, and after that, you’ll be all MINE!

  I plop back in the chair and put my head on the desk. “Cal, you’re in danger,” I manage to eke out between the throat spasms I’m having because I’m fighting back tears.

  He’s behind me, softly rubbing my back. “I can take care of myself, and I’m not scared. If Luke wants to do something, let him bring it. I promise I’ll be the one who finishes it.”

  “No, Cal. He’s not the type of person you want to get into a pissing match with. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay with you. It only puts you in more danger.”

  “Well, you’re not staying by yourself,” Cal fusses.

  “Why don’t you both stay with your dad?” Brant suggests. “Or rent a room somewhere? There are other options out there, you know?”

  Cal looks at me, and I nod. “I’ll call my dad,” Cal says, excusing himself just before leaving the room. Brant takes one look at my heartbroken, confused, and frightened face and his posture becomes less uptight.

  “You know this is only temporary, right? I’m on the case, so you know our department will be closing this one really soon. We don’t take too kindly to fugitives hiding out and starting trouble in our neck of the woods. Consider Luke as good as caught,” Brant assures.

  “Thank you for everything. You’ve been so kind and have gone out of your way so many times to help me. It means a lot to me.”

  He shrugs. “Part of the job.”

  “I’m serious though, Brant. Luke is a bad man.”

  “So are ninety percent of the people I come in contact with. I’m kind of used to it.”

  Cal comes back into the room and tells us that his father insisted we stay with him. I nod, rise from behind the desk, and pile the things I need into my arms. “Brant, you can do whatever you want with that package,” I say once I reach the door.

  “I’ll need to process it as evidence.”

  “That’s fine. I just want it gone. I’m going to tell Gillian to cancel my classes for this week due to a family emergency. If this situation continues past a week, I’ll readdress the issue.”

  “I think that’s a great idea, Cheyenne,” Cal says. “While you do that, I’ll keep my routine as normal as possible. Maybe he’ll start following me instead of you, thereby making it easier for Brant and the others to catch him?”

  “No way,” I argue. “Cal, you can’t do that. It’s not your job, plus we’ve been through this—Luke is a very dangerous and ruthless man who shouldn’t be taunted.”

  “He needs to be caught, sweetheart.”

  Brant interrupts. “So, Cheyenne will stay at Felton’s, and Cal, you’re going to stay at your apartment?”

  “Yes,” Cal says at the same time I say no.

  Brant changes his tone to one that alludes to his understanding my apprehension. “Cheyenne, I know where you’re coming from, but in my opinion, Cal’s plan has merit. I think it’s for the best. We’ll keep eyes on him. It truly is the best way of luring out Luke, aside from using you as bait.”

  “Then use me,” I speak up.

  “No,” Cal and Brant say simultaneously.

  “Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll bring you to the station with me, Cheyenne, and we’ll arrange for Felton to pick you up from there. He can park in the private garage so if Luke is watching, he won’t be able to see you leaving in his car. Cal, we’re going to do the opposite with you. You’re going to stay here until I can get one of my undercover guys on campus. You’ll leave like it’s a normal day, go to your apartment, get something to eat, whatever keeps you visible—but you’ll be tailed.

  “I hate that you all have to go through so much trouble, and Cal, I wish you’d reconsider,” I plea.

  He pulls me close. “Stop. I’m doing this. Go talk to Gi
llian, and I’ll arrange for my dad to pick you up at the station. Remember to get your bag from the car before you go.” Cal pulls me close. “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”

  “I’m going to be a nervous wreck—well even more of a nervous wreck,” I say, correcting myself. I give him a feeble smile before departing to finalize my leave with Gillian. I tell her that I have to fly back to Oklahoma because of a dying uncle, and she buys the story with no questions asked. She promises to submit the paperwork and get my classes covered right away.

  Cal and Brant meet me in the hall where I offer Cal a quick wave before leaving with Brant. My stomach is in knots, and my anxiety is nearly out of control. Every corner we turn, I expect to run into Luke, and I eventually get to where I’m walking behind Brant instead of beside him. Fear is the devil, and I know I shouldn’t falter, but each step finds me closer and closer to completely giving up.

  Chapter Twelve

  It’s so awkward being confined to Felton’s residence. I get along with the man, but he’s an old, cantankerous bachelor who is very much set in his ways. He tells me to make myself at home, but it’s somewhat hard to do so in a glorified hunting camp with only one bedroom. Cal once told me the second bedroom was converted into a hobby room/office a long time ago because Felton’s pastime collections began to spill from the workshop to the carport, and finally, to the living room. Now most of the eclectic assortment is jammed in this cramped space. Various gun parts are scattered across a desk that has a large lighted magnifying glass mounted to it. A table in the corner holds an antiquated train set, and the floor is covered with box upon box of magazines, file folders, and books. Walking through the musty room is very much like navigating a labyrinth.

  Because the living room sofa is essentially my bedroom at Felton’s and because he spends the majority of his time camped out in said room parked in his tattered recliner watching westerns, I opt to sit on the back porch and read. At least the view is nice—lots of trees, the water, a small boat house. I’m completely entranced with my book as I gently sway in the hammock until Felton steps outside. I barely notice that the sun has set until he clicks on the porch light.