by Emery, Lynn
“I’m glad you convinced Deputy Broussard to come.”
LaShaun spun around at the sound of the silken seductive voice so familiar to her. She gazed into the icy blue eyes of Quentin Trosclair. He held a large champagne flute in one hand. He laughed and took a long gulp of the golden wine.
“Hello, Quentin. Thanks for the invitation,” LaShaun said in a distinctly ungrateful tone.
“Well don’t fall over with delight, darlin’. I was just kidding about you convincing ‘The Candidate’ by the way. He’s quite the political climber. Neal says he was eager to come.”
“How exactly do you know Neal?” LaShaun ignored his dig at Chase.
“We were at Princeton together. Before they kicked me out that is. The men in our respective families have attended since before the Civil War. Anyway, he graduated and came to Tulane law school. I was there work on my MBA. Grandfather whipped me into shape and made me finish college.” Quentin lifted his glass. “Here’s to grand old granddad.”
LaShaun eyed him closer. He swayed ever so slightly. “So you two stayed in touch.”
“We’ve been great friends for years. He’s considered a legal genius across the country. He’s even given lectures at international conferences.” Quentin sidled up close to LaShaun as though they were on great terms. “But he still knows how to have fun, too.”
“Odd he happens to be in Vermilion Parish representing a serial killer, since he’s such a prominent man in the legal world,” LaShaun said. She noted with satisfaction the brief glint in Quentin’s eyes. He wasn’t as drunk as he pretended.
“Neal doesn’t take on battles he can’t win. So there must be solid evidence the man is innocent.” Quentin nodded slowly.
“That’s bull,” LaShaun said bluntly.
“I like how you deliver an opinion. Straight, no chaser. Brings back the old days when we were… close, remember?”
LaShaun rolled her eyes. “Yes, unfortunately I remember more than I’d care to.”
“Now darlin’, don’t be like that.” Quentin’s gaze swept over her body.
Jonathan Graham stumbled around and through other party goers until he got to them. He gave Quentin a look of contempt. Dark beer sloshed over the side of the large glass mug he held in one fist. “Well, I see you’re still chasing other men’s wives. Slimy son of a…”
“Drink my liquor and insult me. Isn’t that what the perfect guest should do?” Quentin replied mildly.
Allison Graham stood across the room. She didn’t move to intervene or stop her husband’s behavior. Most of the other guests kept right on partying, as though they were used to drunken confrontations on the subject of adultery. A few shook their heads and headed off to get more food or drink.
“Stay the hell away from Allison you bastard. Screwing half the population of Louisiana doesn’t keep you busy enough?” Jonathan shouted.
“Mr. Graham, maybe you should give the drinking a rest and go get some fresh air,” LaShaun said quietly.
“And what the hell is she doing here? Her man must not know about the history between you two. I’ll bet you’re going to give him a couple of earfuls, huh Quentin?” Jonathan lurched toward LaShaun. “Yeah, bet he’s got some stories to tell about you.”
“Making a scene won’t help your family at all, Jonathan,” Quentin said in a reasoned tone. “Your son is in quite enough trouble. That’s where your focus should be. Not on baseless accusations.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about my son,” Jonathan snapped. He pointed at LaShaun. “And you stop filling my wife’s head with a lot of bullshit jungle magic.”
Chase strode up. “Just what the hell does that mean, Mr. Graham?”
Chapter 10
LaShaun’s heart pumped double-time in fear at the wildness in Chase’s eyes. He stood gazing at Jonathan; his hands flexed open and then into twin closed fists. Every muscle in his tall powerful body seemed poised to spring on the man. A circle of Quentin’s guests seemed keen to witness a smack down. Jonathan Graham looked at Chase for a full minute without saying anything. He must have seen the dangerous line he’d crossed.
“Forget it,” he mumbled and pushed his way through a knot of costumed party guests.
“What do you expect? He’s only two generations from being like those swamp characters on television,” a woman said quietly to her two companions, her patrician southern drawl damning him for not having true blue blood.
“I don’t know why Jon is complaining. He’s been banging Missy Edwards forever, and Allison knows it,” her male companion replied. All three wandered off laughing.
“That was… interesting. Remind me not to cross your lover, lover,” Quentin whispered in her ear. Then he turned to Chase. “I apologize for that unpleasant spectacle. I certainly didn’t invite you here to be insulted.”
“No problem,” Chase replied. Still he watched Jonathan Graham walk to the bar set up in a corner of the living room.
“Maybe we should…” LaShaun stopped when Chase raised a hand.
“I gotta take this.” Chase pulled out his vibrating cell phone, glanced at the display and answered. The crowd parted to let him through.
“Now that’s what I call a real sheriff. He takes no bullshit,” an older man said in a gruff voice. “We need somebody that will kick ass with these trashy types around here. Hear that, Quent?”
“Yes, Uncle Hugh. I hear you.” Quentin gave LaShaun a sideways wink. He lowered his voice and guided LaShaun away. “That’s my mother’s youngest brother. Uncle Hugh is a crusty old bastard, but he’s rich as sin. I try not to disagree with him.”
“How fascinating,” LaShaun murmured. She watched the front door swing shut as Chase went onto the porch. Then she walked toward a window. Chase leaned against one of the huge columns, still on the phone.
“I’m sure he’ll be just fine,” Quentin said over her shoulder. “You really are into him.”
LaShaun turned to face him. “I love him fiercely.”
Before Quentin could answer, Neal Montgomery appeared out of nowhere. “It seems Deputy Broussard is taking a serious business call. Trouble somewhere has flared up.”
“A lawman’s work is never done,” Quentin put in.
Something pricked LaShaun’s senses. She stared at Montgomery. “What do you…”
“LaShaun, I’ve got to leave. I’ll get your wrap,” Chase said.
Quentin smiled at LaShaun without looking at Chase. “I’ll see LaShaun gets home safe and sound, Deputy Broussard. That way you won’t be delayed answering an important call.”
LaShaun took Chase’s hand. “Lovely party, thanks for inviting us.”
“Come again,” Quentin shot back.
Janine walked up next to Quentin and put a hand around his shoulder. “Yes, please do come back. We’d both love to have you.”
LaShaun tilted her head to one side. No, she hadn’t imagined the sexual innuendo in the woman’s tone. “Goodbye.”
Chase nodded and tugged on LaShaun’s hand to urge her along. The woman who’d taken the coats saw them coming and disappeared into the living room. Minutes later she came back with LaShaun’s cloak. She helped wrap it around LaShaun’s shoulders.
“I told you I’d remember. Thanks for spicing up this gig,” the woman whispered to LaShaun. “You made even the best of these ladies look like hags.” She chuckled as she stepped away.
“Thank you,” LaShaun said with a laugh.
“You’re welcome ma’am. Thank you, sir,” the woman said with delight when Chase handed her a ten dollar bill as a tip.
As they left, LaShaun looked back to see Quentin, Janine, Neal Montgomery and Krystal Hardy watching them. They had the look of hounds observing potential targets for a hunt. LaShaun moved closer to Chase, gripping his hand tighter. They waited a few seconds for the valet to get his truck since Chase had already talked to the valet. As soon as the truck doors shut and they were alone, LaShaun turned to him.
“What’s happened?” she a
sked.
“A guy was found wandering around Black Bayou Road. He was all beat and mumbling nonsense.” Chase turned on the heater when LaShaun shivered. “It’ll warm up soon enough, honey.”
LaShaun nodded, but the chill she felt wasn’t because of the weather. “Okay, so some drunk guy got into a fight. Why is that an emergency for you?”
“Because the deputy followed a trail of blood and found a body. They can’t tell if it’s male or female.” Chase wore a grim expression.
“I don’t understand,” LaShaun replied.
“The body is so cut up we’ll have to wait for the corner to tell us.”
***
An hour after Chase had dropped LaShaun off at home, she had taken off her finery, and was curled up on the sofa of her den off the large kitchen of her home. She wore her favorite Southern University sweat suit and slipper socks. She cupped a mug of chamomile tea with honey in both hands as she waited for news to come on. A local access television channel showed a replay of the ten o’clock news broadcast every two hours. When the credits rolled at the end of an old detective series from the 80s, LaShaun turned up the volume. After a commercial advertising a furniture store, the news show graphics flashed on.
“Good evening and thank you for tuning in to KATC. We start with breaking news out of Vermilion Parish. A state police spokesperson tells us that a body has been discovered on a rural road near Black Bayou. Few details have been released, but sources tell KATC news that the sheriff’s department and state police suspect foul play. This is based on the condition of the body when found. We’ll bring you updates when we learn more. In other news…”
The blonde anchorman’s voice faded when LaShaun turned down the volume again. She stared ahead without seeing the images of annoyed politicians squabbling. Instead she thought of other events in the parish. LaShaun did not ponder if they were connected. The familiar tingling beneath her skin confirmed it. Now she waited for a vision or image to come, but she felt nothing. She had no more than the unsettled feeling that more bad things were on the way. After a time, LaShaun went to the bay window looking out over her back lawn. Despite the dread in the pit of her stomach, she looked at the woods. No blue light. Yet she wasn’t comforted by its absence. The thing was off stalking human victims. In fact, LaShaun had to face the possibility that the spirit had begun to influence Chase. Such dark thoughts made her mind freeze with fear. She began to tremble. Chase could handle himself against any threat from a human criminal. What could he do against an attack on his very soul?
The ringing telephone startled her into spilling tea on her sweat shirt. She ignored the feel of the hot liquid and the stain. Instead she put the mug down on the table and rushed to the phone. Snatching up the handset, she noticed what the caller ID displayed.
“Hey, babe. I figured you watched the news. Just checking in so you won’t worry. Gonna be a long night of dealing with this latest mess we got.” Chase let out a long sigh.
“Thank God you sound normal,” LaShaun blurted out.
“What’s that?” Chase’s puzzled tone came through the receiver.
“I mean, I’m glad you’re okay,” LaShaun put in quickly and cursed at the slip.
“Humph, okay as I can be after what I’ve seen. Feels like somebody has been rubbing sandpaper on my eyes.” Chase sighed again.
“Come home to me when you finally wrap up. I’ll fix waffles and andouille sausage, your favorites. I’ve got that new local blend coffee you like, too.”
“You’re too good to me, girl. Is that why I’m so crazy about you?” Chase joked.
“I don’t know, soon-to-be Sheriff Broussard. You can list all the reasons for me, cher.” LaShaun went back to the sofa and sat down again. “I’ll have a fire lit for you.”
“I’ll have a fire for you, too,” Chase said with a chuckle. “I gotta go, babe.”
“Wait a sec, just tell me you’re coming by,” LaShaun said quickly.
“I don’t know. Let me call you in another couple of hours or so. You might not want me to, not with the smell of death on my clothes,” Chase said, the light joking lilt gone from his Cajun accent.
“Bad, huh?” LaShaun knew the answer even as she asked the question.
“Worse than they say some of the bodies Manny Young left behind,” Chase replied.
“My Lord.” The doorbell rang and LaShaun stood. “Somebody’s at the door…”
“Do not answer it, LaShaun,” Chase barked into the phone. “There’s a crazy person running loose. Just let them assume you’re not home. LaShaun, are you hearing me?”
“Calm down. I can handle myself.” LaShaun darted into her bedroom. She took her antique silver dagger from the nightstand drawer. “I’ve got a couple of extra shotguns in the case thanks to you, honey.”
“We’ll debate your self-defense skills another time. Just let the doorbell ring. I can get to your house in ten minutes. Stay away from the door.” Chase spoke fast, the words shooting through the phone like bullets.
“You’re upset because of what you’ve seen. I’m going to be fine.”
LaShaun nodded as though Chase could see her. She walked down the hallway and looked out of the window. More words of reassurance dried up in her throat. Greg Graham stood on her front porch with a young girl next to him. His clothes were rumpled. An ominous stain smeared the front of his jacket.
“I know you’re in there looking at me,” Greg shouted.
The girl next to him jumped every time he moved. LaShaun glanced down. Greg held a long butcher knife in one hand pointed down. “We’ve got a problem. I have to go outside.”
“Like hell you do. Look—”
“Greg Graham is on my front porch holding a knife, and he’s got a girl with him,” LaShaun whispered. “I’m going to put the phone on speaker. Get here. Fast.”
LaShaun slipped the phone into a pocket in her sweatpants. “Uh, hey Greg. Give me a chance to put on some clothes, okay? I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Open the damn door and quit stalling. We need your help,” Greg shouted back. His voice went high, almost into a shriek.
The desperate sound of his voice brought LaShaun up short as she started down the hallway. She couldn’t risk taking too much longer to retrieve a rosary Monmon Odette had worn for decades. The silver cross had been passed down for at least four generations. Power came from such a holy symbol.
“No time,” LaShaun said as she hurried to the front door. Instead she whispered a prayer her mysterious childhood mentor Jean Paul taught her. “Angel of God, my Guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here, ever this night be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.”
When LaShaun opened the front door Greg took two steps back. He pulled the girl by the arm to keep her close. In the light of the porch the girl’s skin looked pinched and pasty. Greg’s gaze slid sideways at his companion and then back to LaShaun.
“Good evening. Hope everything is okay.” LaShaun spoke in a calm tone as she unlocked the storm door separating them and pushed it open.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” Greg faltered as though trying to gather his thoughts. He looked around him as though just realizing he’d traveled to her house. “You alone?”
“Yes.” LaShaun looked to the girl for some sign. “Hi, what’s your name?”
“Jenna, but my friends call me Jen. It’s getting late, and I should go home,” the girl said in a shaky voice.
Greg snapped back to the present. “I thought you wanted to be with me. We’re having fun. Didn’t you like the party we went to?”
“My mother doesn’t know I snuck out. She’ll be worried,” Jenna said. She sniffed, and her eyes pleaded with LaShaun for help. “There was a fight, and those guys were a lot older than us and…”
In an instant the girl’s voice faded. Images flashed into LaShaun’s head, a story of what brought them to her house. Jenna foolishly allowed her teenage crush to blind her. Convinced that everyone was wrong ab
out him, she’d snuck out of her house to be with Greg. And this wasn’t the first time. LaShaun had to prevent this youthful mistake from being fatal.
“Jenna is right. It’s really late, and I’ll bet she needs to get up early for church in the morning,” LaShaun said.
Jenna nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I sing in the choir. I have a solo tomorrow.” Tears slid down her face. “I really need to go home.”
“Shut up about church. I told you that’s a bunch of bullshit they’re feeding you. My parents go to church and look at them. Dad screws anything that moves. All the time he’s faking the all American family man act.” Greg gave a throaty laugh. “I can show you what’s real.”
“What does that mean, Greg?” LaShaun watched for any sign he might lift the knife. She’d try to get between him and Jenna if necessary.
“Turn the other cheek? Love your enemy? Yeah, right. Only if you want to be somebody else’s bitch.” Greg spat as though just talking about the scriptures fouled his mouth. “If you’ve got brains you take control.”
LaShaun looked at him closely. His speech wasn’t original. Someone had been feeding Greg a twisted doctrine. Teenagers drifting in life, feeling isolated and rejected would grab at some form of philosophy to belong. Cults had been born that way for centuries.
“How exactly do you get control in a world that’s out of control?” LaShaun calculated that staying still might keep the girl safe for a little longer.
Greg’s eyes narrowed as he smiled at LaShaun. “We have a plan. You should join up with us. We’re going to rock the foundations of the world one day. But things take time. I’m one of the stronger ones. I’m going to have a lot of kids, and they’ll rule one day.”
