Only By Moonlight

by Emery, Lynn

LaShaun felt steadier on her feet, so she pushed away from the tree trunk and stood straight. “Like I said, how’d you know to come out here?”

  “Mr. Marchand called the station when Sunflower came back without you.” M.J. said. Her gaze swept the ground in a professional manner. Then she stepped carefully to lead LaShaun a few feet away. “We need to get this area marked off.”

  A third deputy appeared and handed M.J. yellow crime tape. They moved with care to mark the clearing where they’d found LaShaun and the two teens. As they methodically followed crime scene protocol, LaShaun allowed her body to relax for the first time. As she did, images and sensations assailed her. She sucked in gulps of damp, cool night air. Her stomach churned, and LaShaun felt light-headed. With great effort she gained a bit of control. Oddly she saw snatches of the Sweet Olive Bed and Breakfast. Pictures of the way the stately old home looked today mingled with sepia pictures of what it must have looked like in the nineteenth century. LaShaun shook her head and willed away the dizzying assault of images.

  “Not all at once.” LaShaun held her head. A touch on her shoulder caused her to jump.

  “Hey, I’m taking you to the hospital, too.” M.J. stood over LaShaun with a worried frown.

  “I’m okay, just unwinding from the nervous tension of fighting two crazy teenagers.” LaShaun gave a shaky laugh. “Really, I’m not cut or anything.”

  “You look like hell,” M.J. said bluntly. “Like any second you’re going to pass out, puke or both. You could have internal injuries from taking blows, so don’t argue.”

  “I’m standing on my own.” LaShaun tried to say more, but suddenly she felt energy drain from her limbs.

  “You’re sitting on the ground,” M.J. replied.

  “Huh?” LaShaun glanced around and discovered M.J. was right.

  “One minute you were standing there looking fairly solid. The next time I look around you’re halfway lying in the dirt looking several shades of green. Deputy, help me walk Miss Rousselle to my car.” M.J. nodded to the tall, thin deputy.

  Between them they guided LaShaun to her feet. A walk that seemed to last forever took them to M.J.’s white Chevy Tahoe. The Sheriff’s Department shield was on the front doors. The deputy practically lifted LaShaun single-handedly into the passenger side of the back seat. M.J. pulled a large flannel blanket from a bag. She opened it and spread it across LaShaun.

  “Hey, what is this?” LaShaun protested, though the leather seat felt welcome after the hard cold ground.

  “You could go into shock easily after the night you’ve had. Now stretch out.” M.J. satisfied herself that LaShaun was well covered up. She turned at the sound of another vehicle.

  “I don’t need to lie down.” LaShaun relaxed against the seat back. Despite her attempt at bravado, her eyelids felt like tiny weights. She even felt too weak to close the vehicle door.

  A long white RV pulled up with the Sheriff Department logo and the words Incident Command painted in large letters on it. One of the doors swung open and Dave Godchaux jumped down. He walked toward them looking like he was already in charge. LaShaun sat up on alert, her lethargy suddenly gone.

  “Sheriff, anything else we need out here? Going to be too dark for an evidence search. I assigned Deputy Thibeau to patrol out here tonight to keep the area secure as possible.” Dave glanced around before he faced M.J. again.

  “Thanks, Dave. That’s good thinking,” M.J. said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” LaShaun muttered as she watched them.

  Though she strained to hear, their voices were low as they walked off toward the clearing. No doubt M.J. was bringing him up to speed. Dave carried a powerful flashlight with a huge lens. He and M.J. continued to walk for a few seconds only and then headed back. Their conversation became more audible as they approached.

  “I agree, Sheriff. Getting her checked out is the best thing. You want to call Deputy Broussard I expect,” Dave said. Then his voice went low.

  M.J. answered him just as quietly before he turned around and went back to the Incident Command RV. “Okay, let’s go. Deputy Thibeau, keep your eyes on anything moving out here.”

  “Will do, Sheriff,” he replied in a deep voice. He shut the SUV’s door and he looked at LaShaun. “Feel better, ma’am.”

  “Thanks,” LaShaun replied. She started to say more but the deputy quickly strode off intent on his patrol. “Where’s Chase?”

  M.J. climbed into the SUV behind the wheel. After she slammed the door shut M.J. let out a noisy grunt. “Investigating leads on that last victim we found. The guy’s so beat up we had to use fingerprints to identify him. Luckily he has a long criminal record. He’s a felon on the run from Shreveport, a known gang member.”

  “Damn. Greg is running with a rough crowd.” LaShaun shivered.

  “We can’t tie him to Greg. Remember they weren’t found together. So I sent Chase up to Shreveport to look for any possible connection.” M.J. turned the key and the Tahoe rumbled to life. “But mostly to get him out of town for a while.”

  “And you’re going to tell me why,” LaShaun shot back, ready to defend him despite pain and fatigue.

  M.J. scowled at LaShaun. “After you get checked out at the hospital. Don’t try that scary voodoo princess look on me. I’m not in the damn mood.”

  “Humph.” LaShaun crossed her arms and glared at the world through the wide windshield. She knew M.J. wouldn’t say more until she thought it was the right time.

  “He’s meeting with a gang task force. No interviewing gang bangers, so he’s not going to be in any tricky situations,” M.J. added.

  “I can’t wait to hear your explanation. You’ve gotten a lot like your mentor Sheriff Triche.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” M.J. drawled in imitation of the retired Sheriff’s deep swamp country Cajun accent.

  “I didn’t mean that as a compliment,” LaShaun grumbled.

  M.J.’s loud laugh in response only made LaShaun more petulant. She settled in for a long ride back to town with the steel-willed Acting Sheriff. She knew full well M.J. would stay true to her word and not talk. LaShaun grunted in annoyance.

  Chapter 15

  The ER doctor released LaShaun after two hours of observation at the hospital. L She felt alert and jittery. Since M.J. wanted to get her statement, they drove to the sheriff’s station. More than a few heads turned to watch them once they arrived. As M.J. closed the door to her office, the low hum of conversation signaled a lot of speculation was going on. LaShaun sat down on one of the imitation leather chairs in front of the wide desk. True to form papers were arranged neatly on it. One set in a stylish wooden outbox. Another set waited for attention in the matching inbox.

  “See how much fun it is being Sheriff?” M.J. frowned down at the stack of messages and snorted.

  “You handle the job with a lot of grace,” LaShaun replied with a grin.

  “Diplomacy, tact, and a quick lesson in playing politics is what this job requires. Having a level head doesn’t hurt either,” M.J. said and sat down in the executive chair behind her desk.

  “Hmm.” LaShaun could sense something more was on M.J.’s mind so she waited.

  M.J. rested her elbows on the wood surface. “I’m still worried about Chase. I mean his state of mind.”

  “Listen, Sheriff, there is nothing wrong with Chase,” LaShaun shot back. When her outburst was met with silence LaShaun sighed. “I’m sorry. This has been one helluva day for me.”

  “I hate bringing it up now, but his behavior is causing folks to talk. I don’t think it’s helping his campaign. At first he was the ‘tough on criminals’ hero. Now more than a few people are saying he might go overboard. Greg’s parents are whipping up sympathy with some in their crowd.”

  “Humph, you don’t have to tell me people can turn on a dime. Funny how they were thrilled when he arrested a poor black kid. But let a privileged spoiled brat be held accountable and all of a sudden Chase is too hardnosed.” LaShaun grimaced.

  “He’s
still got his defenders. Quentin Trosclair and Neal Montgomery seem to think he’s fair and honest.” M.J. raised both her dark shapely eyebrows

  LaShaun stared at M.J. like she’d just announced a unicorn was in the parking lot. “Is that a joke?”

  “You heard me right,” M.J. replied.

  Before LaShaun could react, Dave Godchaux knocked firmly and opened the door. “Excuse me, Sheriff. I needed to tell you before I finish up paperwork with the guys and go home. Judge Trahan released Regan to the custody of her parents. Becky has a big knot on her head, so they’re keeping her overnight for observation. So far the baby seems fine though, and they don’t think Becky has a concussion. The overnight stay is precautionary.”

  M.J. heaved a relieved sigh. “Well that’s something. The last thing we need is a charge that we caused a sixteen year old girl to miscarry.”

  “You might want to mention that big as hell knife she was swinging at me. The girl acted like a serial killer from one of those old slasher movies,” LaShaun retorted and rubbed a growing dull ache in her right shoulder.

  “The problem is her parents have influence. The judge will consider her age, no previous record. The assistant DA said something about letting her plead to assault,” Dave said.

  “I don’t want her in jail, even though I’d love to be the one to give her a spanking she never forgets,” LaShaun retorted.

  “I have to agree. These privileged brats have gone way past annoying pranks. Maybe a judge can put some scare into her,” Dave replied.

  “Yeah, we can only hope,” M.J. said with a sigh.

  “I don’t think that girl is scared of anybody,” LaShaun muttered. When Dave cleared his throat, LaShaun looked at him.

  Dave gazed at M.J. “Did you…”

  “Yeah, we were just talking about Chase.” M.J.’s worried frown returned.

  LaShaun glared at Dave. “Look, I know you want to get elected, but don’t try trashing Chase’s good name to do it.”

  “Dave isn’t trying to take advantage of this situation,” M.J. said quickly.

  “Sure he isn’t,” LaShaun replied.

  “He didn’t bring up the conversation. I did. Two deputies had already expressed concern to Dave since he’s in a supervisory position,” M.J. said.

  “They didn’t want to talk to M.J., I mean the Sheriff, and hurt his career with the powers that be,” Dave added.

  “Lord, please don’t refer to me as one of the ‘powers that be’,” M.J. said. She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed eyes red with fatigue.

  “You know what I mean,” Dave said quietly. “I’m surprised the mayor or president of the aldermen board hasn’t shown up.”

  LaShaun stood. “Chase was a hero just a few days ago. People in this town make me sick. I’m ready to go home.”

  “You’re going to stop being so defensive and listen,” M.J. said. When LaShaun cast a heated glance at Dave she sighed. “Thanks for the update, Dave.”

  Dave nodded his understanding. “I’m his opponent in the race, Miss Rousselle. But I’m not his enemy.” He left and closed the door behind him.

  “He’s right, LaShaun. Dave has his faults, like being a real kiss-up to the ‘powers that be’ as he put it. But,” M.J. said quickly to cut off a wisecrack from LaShaun. “He really wants what’s best for Vermilion Parish.”

  “Sounds like you’re ready to hand out leaflets for him,” LaShaun said sourly. When M.J. crossed her arms and stared back at her, LaShaun lost some of the heat in her attitude. “So fine, Dave is an all round solid guy.”

  “The point being something is going on with Chase. Dave isn’t the only one who’s taking notice.” M.J. gestured for LaShaun to sit back down.

  LaShaun suddenly felt worn out. She dropped back into the chair. Closing her eyes, LaShaun willed herself not to blurt out all of her fears. She had no intention of sharing her true suspicions with the level-headed Acting Sheriff. M.J. had a serious skepticism about the supernatural. In her opinion most of the local legends were a big pile of nonsense superstition.

  “Maybe it’s the stress of facing an election and a wedding. I don’t know,” LaShaun said in a muted tone.

  “He had some bad experiences in Afghanistan. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can come out in some strange ways. And I hope… that he’s not drinking,” M.J. said.

  “Chase only drinks socially with his pals and not even that often. How could you even imply he’s an alcoholic? I can’t believe you’d say such a thing,” LaShaun said, her voice bouncing off the glass wall windows that surrounded M.J.’s office.

  Outside, two deputies looked into the office. M.J. waved a hand at them and turned back to LaShaun. Her stony expression showed that she was done with the soft approach. “Stop twisting what I say. You know damn well I support Chase’s campaign. More than that, we’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Right,” LaShaun said, but her spurt of outrage had fizzled at the look M.J. gave her.

  “Damn right,” M.J. shot back. “Chase used to party too much when he was a teenager. His daddy got him out of trouble a few times back in the day. I’m worried that seeing some bad stuff during his Army tours might push him back to hard drinking.”

  LaShaun let out a long, slow breath. “Chase is acting strange, but he’s not drinking too much. Trust me on that.”

  “Okay, well what about this? Doesn’t it worry you that of all people, Quentin Trosclair is on his side? Not to mention that lawyer from New Orleans trying to get crazy Manny Young back on the streets. I can tell you it’s kept my mind buzzing for the last day or two since I found out.”

  LaShaun’s heart skipped at her words. “Yeah, and Chase went to Quentin’s Mardi Gras party. He said he wanted to meet voters on Quentin’s side of the tracks.”

  “Chase didn’t like Quentin long before you came to town. To say I’m surprised Chase decided to socialize with Quentin is an understatement. Even with the election coming up.” M.J. blinked at LaShaun.

  “It gets better. Greg’s daddy made a big scene. He accused Chase of harassing his son. We didn’t have much fun let me tell ya.” LaShaun massaged her temples as a tension headache threatened.

  “Jonathan Graham is saying Chase set up that scene at your house just so he could shoot Greg.” M.J. waved both hands in the air when LaShaun’s mouth dropped open. “I know it’s nutty, but folks are starting to listen. Add to that we don’t have any evidence that Greg killed Elliot. The other members of that little gang aren’t talking. Or what they’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

  “Tell me,” LaShaun said.

  “I won’t discuss an active investigation. All I’m saying is so far the DA isn’t anywhere close to a murder charge, maybe reckless endangerment or aggravated negligent injury.” M.J. slumped back in her chair.

  “You don’t have to tell me Elliot’s parents are upset,” LaShaun said.

  M.J. looked at the pictures of her ten year old son. “Hell yeah. I don’t want to know what that’s like. Ever. I want my kid to bury me.”

  LaShaun put a hand over her abdomen and thought about the threat to children she might have. Correction, according to two gifted psychics, LaShaun would most definitely have children. Even worse, a demon looked forward to their birth.

  “I know,” LaShaun said softly.

  M.J.’s eyes went wide. “Wait a minute. Are you pregnant?”

  “What? No!” LaShaun burst out. “And don’t start that rumor. All we need is folks saying Chase is a ‘baby daddy’.”

  “Right, right.” M.J. glanced around as though afraid someone had overheard her question. Then she lowered her voice. “A lot of us would be happy for you both.”

  “Not his mother, or a certain group of conservative old Beau Chene folks.” LaShaun felt a tingle when she looked at M.J. “You know something.”

  M.J. cleared her throat. “My grandmother has been filling me in on town gossip again. The word is Mrs. Broussard, or Queen Bee as she’s called behind her back, is bad mou
thing you all over the parish. She says if anything is wrong with Chase… uh, it’s you.”

  “Big surprise,” LaShaun spat.

  “C’mon now. She’s going to be the grandmother of your kids.” M.J. wagged a finger at LaShaun in much the same way her grandmother might.

  “I wish y’all would stop talking about babies like they’re already at the house waiting on me,” LaShaun shot back. “How is Miss Clo by the way? Hope she’s staying out of trouble.”

  “Mostly,” M.J. replied with a smile. Then she became serious again. “Back to Chase.”

  “There’s more you want to tell me,” LaShaun said and stared at M.J.

  “I’m sorry to say there is. The DA has one of my deputies working as a criminal investigator on the Manny Young case. He’s been reviewing the evidence again, and doing more interviews. Chase supervises this deputy.” M.J. paused.

  “Well?”

  “Chase pretty much took over. He’s put together some kind of theory that could, maybe a long shot, but could help the defense.” M.J. said.

  LaShaun started at the sharp tingle that crawled over her body like dozens of electrified spiders. “The Blood River Ripper back on the streets with help from Chase. Damn.”

  ***

  The next day, LaShaun set out to do her own investigation. Chase sounded normal when he’d called her the night before from Shreveport. Yet she couldn’t kid herself. Paranormal events were in motion. Unfortunately she had no clear images to hang onto this time. LaShaun knew her emotional stake in events unfolding made the difference. She was too close to see clearly what was ahead because it involved her.

  She went to Savannah’s law office after doing historical sleuthing at the museum and local library. Her friend’s sunny office on Main Street didn’t help lighten LaShaun’s mood. What she’d learned about from her research was anything but reassuring.

  “Mrs. Honoré will be with you in a minute, Ms. Rousselle,” Ginger said crisply. The legal office manager seemed determined to keep a big city professional feel.

  “Thank you.”

  LaShaun smiled at her and then took a seat. She decided to skip her usual format of reminding Ginger to call her by her first name. Besides, a suited gentleman sat across the room waiting as well. Maybe the formality would impress Savannah’s potential client enough to bring more business. Minutes later, Savannah strode out holding a thick brown folder. She waved to LaShaun, but went straight to the man who stood. His officious manner and thousand dollar suit made him look out of place in small town surroundings.