A Marked Man

by Stella Cameron

  While Lil took a breath, Spike pulled one booted ankle onto the opposite knee.

  “They got unengaged because of me and I’m sorry. We gotta put it right.”

  “Right,” Cyrus said.

  “Not a word,” she snapped. “Not till I’m done.”

  The three of them were silent for several seconds.

  “I lied about what happened the night I came in this place,” Lil said. “I had Madge’s Millie in my car and I was headed home from Loreauville. The dog was supposed to go to the rectory. But I got this fool—no, it was a good idea—I got this idea to go to Charlotte and apologize. Me, I wasn’t brought up to be mean.

  “When I drove past that new clinic the place was all lighted up so I thought I’d go take a look through the windows. We all been wondering what it’ll be like. I parked right by a hedge at Rosebank and ran up the drive next door. Imagine my surprise when I got to them big windows in front and saw what I saw.” Folding her hands carefully on her stomach, she flapped her fingers.

  Very carefully, Spike sat straighter.

  Cyrus ran a finger under his clerical collar.

  “What did you see?” Spike said. He couldn’t stand the wait any longer.

  “It was awful.”

  “Mmm,” Spike murmured.

  “You gotta let me get it out my own way,” Lil said. “It’s embarrassin’. On the floor they was…” She put a hand over her mouth. “I got scared and took off. I drove my car as fast as she would go, right down that little road toward where you turn toward Toussaint. There was a flare in the road. It was rainin’ but I saw the flare, all wiggly pink light through them wipers.

  “Well, I slowed down, didn’t I? And then he come at me, runnin’ across like he’d bang right into the car. Wearin’ a big coat with a hood. It was on that very floor tonight.” She pointed across the room.

  Spike kept his mouth shut. He’d already been told the story of what had happened an hour or so earlier in the evening. He figured he’d have to hear it again from Lil but there was no point rushing into it.

  “So it was like I said about goin’ off the road, just a different road. It was Landry Way.” Her throat clicked when she swallowed and her smile was a sad affair. “He banged me all up again tonight. See.” She held out her bruised arms. “He said he had to give me a shot only I knew somethin’ was wrong.”

  “It’s terrible,” Cyrus said. “Spike’s already got deputies out searching for him and asking questions. The folks here in Breaux Bridge are helpin’, too. Everyone’s looking—it’s on TV.”

  “What I told you about him hurtin’ me some more when I got out of my car was true,” Lil said, big tears welling in her eyes. Spike noticed she addressed Cyrus now. “He likes pushin’ at your neck. He did it then and I fell and it felt like I got stung. That could have been a shot only I didn’t get sick—except for my head, but that was the crash. He pushed me again tonight only it didn’t sting the same way. That night it was like I said, I think the sound of them noisy bikes scared him off. He ran, I’m tellin’ you. Did I say he had on that mask and hood thing, and the big, bug-eyed glasses? Wore them tonight, he did. Big, black glasses in here like I was too stupid to notice.”

  “People underestimate other people,” Cyrus said with sympathy. “You did everything right tonight. You saved yourself.”

  Lil gave a pleased little moue. “And I’ve got a clue,” she said, and pulled a clear plastic cap from beneath a hip. “I heard it go down and I got the nurse to find it for me afterwards. She should have gone after him sooner, but…This is from that needle he wanted to put in me. There, so you know I’m tellin’ the truth this time.”

  Spike rose from his chair, searching around for something to drop the contaminated evidence into. It should be useless, but he could hope for a miracle.

  “Use your head, young Spike,” Lil said. “He had on rubber gloves and even if he hadn’t, the nurse and I would have ruined any prints by now, wouldn’t we?”

  Cyrus grinned and Lil looked even more pleased.

  “What did you see at the clinic?” Spike said, beside himself. “We’ll listen real quiet, Lil.”

  Once more her face flamed. “I don’t know what happened to that darlin’ little Millie but I thank the Lord she got home safe.”

  “Seems simple enough to me,” Spike said. “Either she got out of the car when you got out—at Rosebank—or she got out when you got back in. End of story. She went home.”

  Both Cyrus and Lil gave him reproachful glances.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Spike said, feeling no remorse. “You were going to tell us the awful thing you saw at the clinic.”

  “Yes.” With a firm nod, Lil raised her chin. “And awful, it was. A disgrace, but I wish I never saw it because now it’s my fault. They were on the floor, their hair all wet, rolling around. I was mortified, I can tell you. She had somethin’ she held away from him and he reached for it. Then she grabbed his…him…you know where and she was up and off while he was holdin’ himself. She was leavin’, I suppose. Well, I was leavin’, too. I never ran that fast since I was a girl. All the way to my car.

  “But I reckon I was seen and somehow he got down there faster. I had to go all the way along the drive and out by the hedge at Rosebank, see. He must have been quicker. Then he got away after he did that to me with the flare and everything, and look what’s happened. He’s killed her, hasn’t he?”

  “Who?” Cyrus asked gently.

  “Lee, of course. That’s who he was with at Green Veil, poor Lee.” She pinched her lips and frowned. “Me, I know what they’d been doing. It was all over them.”

  “What was?” Cyrus said.

  “That look. All mussed and pink in the face.” She closed her eyes. “And she didn’t have no panties on.”

  Spike couldn’t even turn his eyes in Cyrus’s direction.

  “It’s always the quiet ones,” Lil said. “But who would have thought it of that Roche Savage? At least, I think it was him and not the other one.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Grit eddies flew up from the cleared area on Max’s lot. A stinging speck landed in Annie’s eye and she tugged one lid over the other. Blinking, she tromped on, following the wide beam from a camp lantern Max carried. She had insisted on hauling her own bag of gardening tools.

  Tonight Annie was glad she hadn’t thrown the lamp out. Night? There couldn’t be many hours left until dawn.

  “Now what?” Max said, standing with his weight on one leg.

  “Your heart isn’t in this.”

  “Darn right.” He shifted his weight to the other leg.

  “I’ve got this feeling, though,” Annie said. “It’s strong. I saw something when I was asleep and it made me think.”

  “You see a lot of things while you’re asleep,” he said.

  Annie tried to take the lamp but he lifted it high. “Go home,” she told him. “Go anywhere. You’re in a rotten mood. And you’re mean.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” he said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Where are we going to find this thing?”

  “I told you. I couldn’t understand why it disappeared the way it did.”

  “But we had to come now—we couldn’t wait until we’d put a few hours’ sleep together? And if I go home, what are you going to do? Walk?” He put the lamp on the ground and spread his arms. “Okay, let’s stop and take a breath.”

  Annie breathed deeply but she fumed, probably because she couldn’t blame him for not being enthusiastic about one more of her “visions.”

  Being wrong stunk.

  If she was wrong. And they’d never know if they didn’t check out her hunch.

  Hunch was a new word that fitted her purposes: she liked it.

  “About a hundred volunteers turned over every leaf on this lot,” Max said.

  “I know,” Annie said. “But they didn’t find my flashlight.”

  “Argh! Where do you want to start looking?” Max said.

  “There’s
only one place, I thought you knew that. It’s over there.” She pointed toward the densely treed lot next door. “Where I dropped it the night you just about scared me into cardiac arrest.”

  “Of course,” he said. “On the next lot. I forgot you’d wandered over there. So why are we here?”

  “Because,” she pointed to her desired destination, “I don’t think you can get there from anywhere but here without a machete. Why did there have to be more tests on Lee?”

  “What?”

  In the light from the lamp Annie saw the thrust of Max’s chin. “Lee. After the autopsy Reb said there were tests that couldn’t be done here.”

  “Don’t dwell on that.”

  “I’m dwelling, and if you can’t tell me I’ll just have to dream up my own answers.”

  “Not a good idea.” He crouched, rested his elbows on his knees and sighed—loudly. “At the paper Reb and I noticed a mark on Lee’s neck. We think it was from a needle, an injection, only we couldn’t prove it. But we were pretty sure she’d been wrapped in something, probably the upper sheet from the air mattress, before she died. Fibers on her front side matched fibers from the bottom sheet.”

  “She was on her stomach,” Annie pointed out.

  “And off the mattress, like she’d been rolled, maybe? Wait before you say anything. We are almost sure she was taped inside the sheet at some point.”

  “How could you know that?”

  “Whoever did it wasn’t quite careful enough. That could be because we interrupted him with the doorbell. He didn’t want to leave her in the sheet because he hoped the death would look natural. It almost did. There were two spots where the tape took the skin off. One on her left calf and one on her left shoulder.”

  “Her shoulder,” Annie repeated almost under her breath. If she had second sight, she didn’t want it.

  “It’s ironic,” Max said. “He could have been trying for an air embolism by injecting air, or gas into the jugular. It can work—kill someone I mean—but it’s just as likely to fail. This time we think the embolism occurred and he’d have been away free if he hadn’t gotten careless with the tape. I think he restrained her in the sheet and planned to take her away in it. They know an intruder got out through a window—or someone did—and it fits. The body’s at an FBI lab. We’ll see what they turn up. So far there are no toxins.”

  “Lil had bruises on her neck,” Annie said. She had a bad feeling almost all the time but it was getting worse. “Do you think—”

  “Yes, I do, but nothing conclusive was turned up. The guy who attacked her probably—in my opinion—got the shot in but it either missed or didn’t work.”

  Cold sweat popped out all over Annie. She did some more deep breathing. “Can we get started now, please?” What did she think she’d find? A subterranean chamber hidden by a carpet of grass with Michele lying on the bottom? A body couldn’t be in two places at one time—as far as she knew. “You’d probably be glad if I lost my nerve and went home. But I’ll never have any peace until I get these questions out of my head.”

  Max picked up the lamp and took hold of Annie’s hand. “Let’s do it. The sooner we get back, the better. Don’t get all worked up at me, I’m just tired and a bit short-tempered. And I’m worried.” If she asked him why, he was ready to tell her.

  “You’re worried about all this?” she said. “There isn’t something I don’t know about?”

  Of course she asked. “I can’t find Roche. I haven’t heard from him in twenty-four hours and Kelly and I haven’t been able to get him on the phone. This never happened before.”

  Annie changed her grip, threaded their fingers together and squeezed. “I’m sorry. We’ll go back to Toussaint now. I didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t tell you.” He kept on going and speeded up until they ran. “Kelly should be about back by now. He’ll call if Roche shows. Which he will.” Max knew he was trying to convince himself. He took out his cell and switched it to vibrate rather than ring. “All we’d need would be a sudden noise. They’d be picking us out of the treetops.”

  Annie chuckled, and jumped. Her own phone rang at her waist and she snatched it up. “Yes?” She sighed and clicked off. “Wrong number. Sheesh, who makes calls at this time of night—or morning?”

  “Took years off my life,” Max said.

  His phone vibrated. “Here we go again. Grand Central Station,” he said and slid open the cell. “Yeah?” The readout said, “private number.”

  “It’s Roche,” his brother said.

  Max released Annie’s hand. “Where are you?”

  “First, where are you?”

  “I asked—”

  “Not now, Max. Is Annie with you?”

  “Yes. We’re at the lot. She lost a flashlight here and we’re looking for it.”

  A slight pause. “At this time of the morning? Forget I asked. Do something for me.”

  “Anything,” Max said. Just like I always have.

  “Stay put and I’ll find you. I don’t want you running around. I’m all messed up. I need you with me—and her if she’s important to you.”

  “She is,” Max said quietly, his heart beating loud enough to roar in his ears. “Tell me what’s happening?”

  “I’ve found something you’re never going to believe. You’ve been set up for sure. It’s sick—horrendous. Be patient and just don’t leave. And don’t talk to Spike or Guy or anyone else yet.”

  “What would I talk—” The connection died and Max cursed softly. He closed the phone. “That was Roche. He wants us to wait for him here.”

  “What a relief,” Annie said. “I’m grateful you’ve heard from him.”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t grateful for the near desperation he’d heard in Roche’s tone, or the suggestions he’d made. “I don’t know how long he’ll be. We’ll carry on with what we were doing.” Anything to keep his mind off whatever Roche might be going to tell him.

  Annie turned and sniffed. She caught a glint and looked upward. Over the trees where they were going, an ember whirled in the night sky.

  “Campers?” Max suggested, following the direction of her gaze. “That’ll put a crimp in things. The timber’s pretty dry, too.”

  “It’s too dangerous to light campfires in places like this,” Annie said. “You might get away with it on this spot where it’s cleared, but that’s all underbrush and trees over there. Shall we call for the fire department?”

  “Not for one spark,” Max said. “Not until we see what it is. Hurry, and be quiet about it.” He turned off the lamp and they moved as swiftly as the conditions allowed. Max didn’t want any accidents.

  Snapped branches were inevitable and they sounded like gunshots.

  “I get disoriented in here,” Annie whispered. “I’m not sure where I was that night. I could have been quite far from your place.”

  “Let’s hope one of us recognizes it. First we check for pyromaniacs.”

  “I smell burning.”

  Max pulled her to a stop and sniffed the air. “Yeah. Do you hear anything?”

  She didn’t.

  “We have to be quiet. I wish someone was playing loud music and breaking beer bottles, then I’d know what to do.”

  Annie squeezed his upper arm and he paused. “Up there,” she said. Several more embers whirled but went out quickly. “It’s not raining but the bits aren’t staying alight,” Annie said.

  “The fire can’t be going too well, which is a good thing,” Max said.

  Annie didn’t just stop, she took several steps backward and put her hands on her knees, breathed in great gasps.

  “Sweetheart.” He went and bent over her. “What is it?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “I am asking.”

  “What if it’s him? The fires I saw, Max. The bodies. Remember what I told you.”

  “How could I forget. But that wasn’t real.”

  She stared at the sky again. “Maybe.”

  He helped her stand up str
aight and massaged her back. Gently, he kissed her mouth. And he said, “Whoa, back off, boy,” supposedly for his own benefit.

  “You can always make me smile,” Annie said although she wasn’t smiling in her mind.

  They didn’t speak again for some time. Side-by-side, they crept forward, not knowing where they were going.

  The wind grew stronger and the suggestion of burning turned into a stench. “It smells damp?” Annie said.

  “I think it does. Try to relax. I think we’re going to find a fire someone thought they’d put out but it’s still smouldering.

  “You do?” Annie blew out air. “Wow, I hope you’re right.” She tried not to breathe so loudly.

  “Mmm,” Max murmured moments later. “It’s not so dense up ahead.” The going had gotten even rougher and more difficult to get through.

  The trees thinned and Max led Annie into an open patch of land. From the feel of it underfoot, grass grew there so there must be more light by day, that or most trees were less mature than Max’s.

  Scorched earth. The smell was sickening, overpowering.

  Annie pointed. Occasional sparks seemed to escape from a small area of ground and behind the sparks, pacing back and forth, she made out the figure of a man. She spun away but Max stopped her from running. He put his mouth to her ear. “Keep quiet.”

  “Could be, you know, magic…voodoo conjure?” she said close to his face. “It’s still a big thing here. I’m not staying.”

  “Get hold of yourself. I’ve got a gun. You’ll be okay.”

  “A gun?” Her mouth opened with each word but no sound came out until a squeaky, “Oh.”

  The man stopped pacing and approached the place where the little sparks spewed and fizzled. He bent, braced his legs, grasped something and heaved. A hole opened up and black smoke laced with a few burning floaters curled out.

  Max said, “No heroics,” and pushed Annie behind him.

  Heroics were out because she felt like melted rubber, but she moved along in his footsteps. Why did they have to do this? So someone was pacing around a smoking hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere. Was it her business?