Dreadful

by Jana DeLeon

  “Brianna LeBlanc,” he yelled. “This is Detective Jackson Lamotte with the New Orleans police. I’m about to break down this door. Please stay down and move as far away from the door as possible. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Her choked response made Jackson’s heart clench and despite his injured shoulder, he launched at the door and broke it away from the frame.

  The girl in the corner jumped up as he entered but stood in the corner shaking. She was either in shock or still not convinced that she’d been rescued. Jackson pulled out his badge and slowly approached the terrified girl.

  “Here’s my badge. I’m a cop. You’re safe now. Are you hurt?”

  The girl leaned forward enough to read his badge, then launched at him, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing. Jackson held the girl as she cried, relieved to hear the sound of ambulance sirens in the distance.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he said.

  Even as he said the words, he knew that Brianna’s nightmare wasn’t over. Soon, she’d know that her father was behind all of this horror. Her future depended on how she managed to deal with that. If her mother died, it added another layer of difficulty to all of it.

  But she was alive, and that was the most important thing.

  Alive meant she had a chance.

  SHAYE’S CELL phone went off at 3:00 a.m. and she bolted up from the bed, grabbing the phone on her way up. Jackson’s number flashed on the display, and her heart leaped into her throat as she answered.

  “Are you all right? What’s happened?”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Well, a little banged up, and I’ve taken an ass-chewing to end all ass-chewings, but nothing that I won’t get past. I’m leaving the hospital now. I know it’s a ridiculous hour, but can I come by and tell you about it?”

  “Hospital?” Shaye bolted out of bed. “Let me come get you.”

  “No. It’s okay. One of the patrolmen is going to give me a ride. But if you have something to eat, I’ll be forever grateful.”

  “Corrine dropped off pot roast last night. I’ll go heat it up now. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m all right. I’ll be there soon.”

  Shaye hurried into the kitchen and pulled the leftover pot roast from the refrigerator. Corrine always overdid it on portions, so there were easily two servings left. But if Jackson was at the hospital but worried about food, he must be starving. She poured the whole thing into a pot and turned on the stove. It would taste better reheated that way than nuked. She grabbed a package of French bread rolls from her pantry and popped three of them into her toaster oven.

  Then all she had left to do was wait.

  She huffed out a breath. Waiting was the worst. Especially when the man she cared about was getting a ride to her place from the hospital and she wasn’t quite clear if he was the patient or someone else was. And did any of what Jackson was coming to tell her have something to do with Jenny Taylor? So many questions and so many minutes to wait until she had answers.

  Her feet tingled from the cold kitchen tile, and she headed back to her bedroom to get dressed. By the time Jackson got here, ate, and filled her in on whatever had happened to him tonight, it would probably be close to wake-up time anyway. And that didn’t include telling Jackson about her own findings in Allard’s files.

  She’d spent over an hour lying awake in bed after her discovery. So many questions swarmed through her mind, but the most important was how to proceed. Shaye had no desire to upset a little girl’s life, but she couldn’t rest until she knew for certain that her baby had the life she deserved. The life all children deserved. The question was how to find that out without alerting others. The press had backed off a lot from their constant hounding, but she still occasionally caught someone following her or saw a television van parked down the street. She couldn’t afford for anyone in the media to get wind of this. Not even a tiny whiff. If they did, any chance her child had at a normal life would be gone forever.

  She pulled on yoga pants, sweatshirt, and socks and called it done. All she’d need to do was slip on tennis shoes before heading out for the day. Assuming she headed out at all. Her entire schedule was on hold at the moment, depending on what Jackson had to say and what she decided to do about the files. She’d already promised herself that she wouldn’t make any decisions on the second item until she had thought through everything at length and let it sit for a while before making a move. Despite her overwhelming anxiety about it, there was no rush. Things would hold just the way they were until she could be certain she was making the best decision for everyone.

  She headed back into the kitchen and snagged the forgotten French rolls from the toaster oven just as they started to darken a tiny bit too much around the edges. It was the story of her life. Cooking definitely wasn’t her skill set. She was too easily distracted by other things. She lifted the pot and stirred the pot roast, her stomach growling at the savory smell as it wafted up. Her own dinner had been the few bites she’d managed to consume before the butterflies in her stomach prevented her from eating more.

  She grabbed two bowls from her cabinet and sat them next to the stove. Maybe she’d join Jackson in his middle-of-the-night dinner. What the heck, right? It wasn’t like she kept nine-to-five hours. And being a detective meant Jackson rarely had any schedule resembling regular. He did the job when it needed doing and stopped when he was done.

  The sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of her apartment sent her scrambling for the front door. She peered through the blinds and saw Jackson get out of a police cruiser. She sucked in a breath when she saw his right arm in a sling and rushed to turn off the alarm and open the door.

  “What happened?” she asked as he walked inside. “Are you hurt? Can I get you something?”

  “Just a place to sit and some food so I can take a pain med,” he said. “I’ve been holding off until I could get some food in my stomach. It’s been a while since I had anything.”

  “Middle-of-the-night dinner is ready to serve, and I have a stool with your name on it. Do you want a beer?”

  “Better not with the pain meds. Sweet tea would be great, if you have it.”

  “Corrine would probably cut me out of her will if I didn’t have sweet tea on hand.”

  Jackson gave her a smile that turned into a sort of grimace as he slid onto the stool. “I like a woman who has her priorities straight.”

  Shaye poured two glasses of tea and served up the pot roast and bread, then sat next to him. He took a bite and sighed.

  “This is incredible. Or I’m starving.”

  “Probably a bit of both. Okay, I’m officially dying here. Talk in between bites. What happened? How did you hurt your shoulder? Was the ass-chewing from the chief?”

  Jackson nodded. “Him and the FBI. Grayson and I aren’t currently the most or least popular detectives in the department, depending on which side of the political fence you’re on. We rescued Brianna LeBlanc tonight.”

  “What? Holy crap!” Shaye spun around on her stool to face him. “Is she all right? How did you find her? Why is the FBI mad? Who did it?”

  Jackson grinned. “You want to write them all down?”

  “Stop holding back. Jesus! That is huge. Go. Talk. Eat. Then talk more.”

  “I know this goes without saying, but you have to keep it all under wraps, especially the stuff about Grayson’s and my involvement. That part will never hit the media. The department can’t afford the press on it, and the FBI wouldn’t take kindly to the embarrassment of having the case solved under their noses.”

  “Of course.”

  He started by telling her about their meeting with Victor LeBlanc, which caused her to drop both her jaw and her spoon. “Her father? His own son?” she said. “I can’t imagine what it took for him to tell you that.”

  “If his appearance was any indication, he looked on the verge of a heart attack and about to be violently ill at the same time.” He continued with their backgrou
nd check on the image and how they located the house where Sutton and Tasker had Brianna. Shaye was certain she wasn’t breathing when he told her about breaking down the door and wrestling with Tasker. When he told her about Brianna, tears rushed into her eyes and spilled over the edges.

  When he stopped to take a breath, she leaned over and circled her arms around him, careful not to squeeze his shoulder. She kissed him soundly, then whispered, “You are a wonderful, awesome man. Thank you for breaking all the rules and rescuing that girl.”

  “Grayson helped too.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not kissing him. Not on the lips anyway, but he might be in danger of a hug. So that’s how you injured your shoulder—breaking down two doors.”

  Jackson nodded. “It’s not broken, which is a plus. I just dislocated it and I’m sure it will be bruised all to hell soon, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t even feel it until after the paramedics asked why I was holding my arm funny.”

  “Adrenaline is an amazing thing. So what happened with Ian?”

  “Right after Grayson called for an ambulance, he called the chief, who sent two units over to arrest Ian.”

  “Was he at the hospital?”

  Jackson’s expression shifted from pleased to angry. “Hell, no. The mother of his child is fighting for her life, and he was at his house in the hot tub with his girlfriend.”

  “No! That’s horrible.”

  “It was all I could do not to punch him when they brought him into the station.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Jackson smiled. “Someone did it for me though. Victor LeBlanc practically ran into the interrogation room. Ian jumped up, thinking his dad was there to bail him out, as usual, but instead Victor punched him so hard in the jaw he broke it.”

  “No, he did not.”

  “Yep. Took three officers to get him out of there. He may be older, but he’s strong as an ox. Unfortunately, he collapsed completely when we got him into another room. I think it finally all hit him.”

  Shaye nodded. “Now that Brianna is safe, he has to deal with all the emotions he’s been holding in. I feel sorry for him. I know what it’s like to be betrayed by those closest to you. But I feel even sorrier for Brianna. I hope her mother makes it.”

  “Me too.”

  “So what happened with the chief and the FBI? How much of your butt did they take?”

  “Probably enough to leave me a size smaller.”

  “Do you think your job is in jeopardy?”

  “I doubt it. The chief was mad, of course, and the FBI was furious, but Victor told them that we’d acted on his instruction and if anyone had anything to say about it, they could take it up with him and a couple of his friends.”

  Shaye shook her head. “Victor LeBlanc sure likes playing games with his political connections, but I can’t really blame him in this case. If it were my granddaughter, I would have used anything I had to get her back.”

  She frowned and dropped her gaze down to her bowl.

  “What’s wrong?” Jackson asked. “Did something happen to Jenny? I’ve been going on and didn’t even ask about your case.”

  Shaye looked up at him, locking her eyes on his.

  “I found her. I found my daughter.”

  22

  THURSDAY, February 18, 2016

  Ponchatoula, Louisiana

  RICK GRABBED his briefcase and car keys, prepared to dash out of the house. He was already running late for a meeting at a client’s house. If he didn’t get there soon, the client was just volatile enough to fire him, which he couldn’t afford, either with his bosses or his bonus checks. He threw open the front door and held in a stream of cursing. Not only was Marisa’s car parked behind him, but he’d just remembered that he needed gas in the SUV.

  “Marisa,” he called out. “I’m late. I need to take your car.”

  Marisa hurried out of the bedroom carrying Maya. “That’s fine. I wasn’t going anywhere today anyway.” It was her day off.

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then on his daughter’s cheek and practically ran out the door. Since it was warm outside, he decided that meant the engine didn’t need to warm up, so he fired up the car, threw it into Reverse and launched backward out of the drive and onto the street. He shifted to Drive and squealed the tires as he pulled away.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  This kind of mistake was exactly the sort of thing he couldn’t afford. Sure, he wasn’t planning on making a career out of working at the firm, but he couldn’t afford to lose the job either. Everyone knew it was easier to find a job when you already had one. Rick figured part of the reason for that is no one could call your current employer for a reference.

  He watched his speed through the downtown area, then pressed the accelerator down hard as soon as he turned onto the long, empty farm road. The client owned several restaurants in New Orleans, but he’d had a fixation on farming since he was a child. At least, that’s how he explained to Rick why he lived on two hundred acres in the middle of nowhere. Rick figured it was just a passing fad for a man who had more money than time. As it was, his client probably didn’t make it to the farm but a few days a month because most of his time was spent in New Orleans, running his restaurants.

  But even with the occasional appearance, he’d managed to piss off the man who owned the neighboring farm. A big to-do about changing drainage and flooding crops, and the long and short of it was the other farmer sued and Rick’s client wanted a local firm defending him because he figured a lawyer from New Orleans might not be looked upon favorably. The two partners at Rick’s firm had met with the man and probably decided he was going to be a colossal pain in the ass. But no way were they turning down the money he wanted to hand them. So they did what all partners do—they turned the case over to a staff attorney so they could make the bucks but avoid the aggravation.

  Rick had drawn the short stick.

  He slowed as the road twisted in a ninety-degree turn to the right and pressed down on the brakes. The wheels locked for a second then broke loose, and the car continued forward. Starting to panic, he lifted his foot and pressed again but the car didn’t slow even a bit. He cut the wheel, praying he could slide around the corner and let the car roll to a stop, but the tires had already lost traction in the loose dirt and the car shot off the road and through a fence.

  He threw his hands up in front of his face and screamed as it slammed into a combine.

  Then everything went black.

  JACKSON STEPPED out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He and Shaye had spent what was left of the night talking and hadn’t even noticed the time until sunlight began to peek through the blinds. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Every time he thought about Brianna’s rescue, he was both grateful and relieved at how it had turned out. Everything could have been so much worse. Granted, the family had a lot of healing to do, but at least they were getting the opportunity to do so.

  Then just when he thought he’d heard the most amazing thing he could hear in one twenty-four-hour period, Shaye had blown him completely away.

  Her daughter.

  He still couldn’t believe the words, even just repeating them in his own mind. He’d been cautious, of course, wanting to see the evidence before he processed what it might mean. Shaye wasn’t a woman given to fancy or one to jump to conclusions, but this was different. This was about as personal as it got, and he wanted to make sure her emotions hadn’t clouded her judgment.

  But faced with the legal documents, he had to admit that the timing was right. When he saw the picture of the child on Facebook, he was as certain as Shaye. Probably no one would ever make the connection between the pretty little girl and her somewhat famous mother, but if you called someone’s attention to it, there was no way they could miss it. There were ways to check, of course, to be sure, and they’d need to figure out how to do just that without upsetting everyone. It was going to require a real delicate touch, and Jackson was already worried abou
t what knowing for certain was going to do to Shaye.

  Right now, she claimed that as long as the child was being raised by loving parents, she didn’t want to interfere. And no matter what the situation, she never wanted the girl to know the circumstances of her birth, something that Jackson agreed with absolutely. No child should have to carry that burden and no way would Shaye intentionally place it on her own child. Even if it meant never being in the child’s life, even peripherally.

  But even though Shaye planned to do nothing with regard to the child going forward, this was still huge. Maybe one of the top five huge things that Shaye had dealt with, and that was saying a heck of a lot. Still, Jackson was grateful that Shaye had a strong support system. One of the first things he’d asked her was when she planned to tell Corrine and Eleonore, but she’d been somewhat evasive. He got the impression that she wasn’t avoiding answering the question so much as she wasn’t yet sure of the answer. Jackson was pleased and honored that he was in a position to be there for Shaye in whatever way she needed him to be in order to deal with this, but he knew that Corrine and Eleonore would be necessary components to helping Shaye figure out how to balance this new revelation from her past into her present.

  He pulled on a pair of sweats and T-shirt that he kept at her place and headed into the kitchen. Shaye had promised that coffee would be ready by the time he got done with his shower, and he was happy to see a steaming cup of dark liquid at his usual place at the counter and, even better, a Danish beside it.

  “Where did you get Danish?” he asked.

  “That new bakery down the street,” she said. “You know how I like to support local businesses.”

  “Uh-huh. How many times have you been to the salad bar next door?”

  “Touché.” She pulled a plate with another Danish on it from the microwave and sat down next to him. “In my defense, these are raspberry and you know how I feel about raspberries.”

  “You’d marry them if possible?”