* * * *
Chloe Carlton’s bungalow in the Victoria Park section of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Friday evening, September 19, 2014, 6:30 p.m.
John parked around the corner from Chloe’s house and watched for her car to pull up into her driveway. While she was taking dry cleaning out of the backseat he walked up behind her. “Can I help you with that?” She whirled around.
“No, thank you. I’ve got it. Excuse me.” She grabbed her purse and headed toward the porch. She already had her keys in her hand and was about to unlock the door.
“Please, Chloe, just give me a minute of your time. I want to apologize.”
“Yes, you always do. Please leave, J.J.”
“Chloe, I’m very sorry. I made another bad miscalculation. I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt, and I’m sorry.”
She had the door open and was halfway through it when she turned around. “J.J., there is nothing for us to talk about. You had your one chance at a do-over, and you blew it. It is over. I’m not a glutton for punishment, BDSM leanings aside. I’m done.” She continued through the door and shut it in his face. He heard the lock turn.
* * * *
Chloe leaned back against the wall next to the door. She was beginning to hyperventilate. She had to calm down, get a grip. J.J. would leave. She would go next door and let Eric and Steve pour wine down her throat until she calmed down or passed out. Maybe if she had expected to see him, had braced for the encounter, she would have handled it better. Right now her hands were shaking, her knees were weak, and she was sick to her stomach. She collapsed on her sofa and closed her eyes.
She heard the knock. “Chloe, I’m not leaving until you let me talk to you. I just want to know you accept my sincere apology. Please…”
“Go away, J.J. I accept your apology. Okay? That’s it. I have nothing else to say, and I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” Is that actually true? Yes, it is. This is far too painful to have to go through it over and over again. He was never going to put her first, give her the benefit of the doubt, or trust her. What the fuck was the point of a relationship like that? Every time something difficult or uncomfortable came up he would doubt her. Yes, the sex was good. The emotional support was completely lacking. Well, J.J. didn’t trust her, and now she wouldn’t trust him again with her heart.
She heard him walk down the steps and then heard his car door close. He drove away. Thank goodness. She didn’t know if she could have held out much longer. He always had been able to get around her, and that wasn’t good for her peace of mind.
She got up, changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and walked next door to Eric and Steve’s. They had heard the car and J.J. talking through her door. “If you hadn’t come over here, girlfriend, we would have come to get you.” Steve was already pouring white wine into a chilled glass.
“You guys are the best. Let’s get drunk, and then you can carry me home.”
* * * *
On Saturday morning when she rolled over in bed, Chloe had the opportunity to regret her choices of the evening before. Her head was pounding. Usually wine didn’t affect her that severely, but her emotional state must have had something to do with the doozie of a hangover clanging pots and pans in her frontal lobe. Aspirin. Tomato juice. Recline on chaise lounge by pool and wait for pain to pass. If only the physical pain in her head would drown out the emotional pain in her heart. Okay, one day at a time.
On Sunday, her headache was gone. She settled down by the pool, and she pulled out some computer printouts she had brought home to work on. Later she would make a nice chicken salad and bring some over to Eric and Steve as a thank-you for their support on Friday night, not to mention several bottles of excellent wine.
The printouts were tax records for St. Martin Parish. She had also printed maps of St. Martinville and the Bayou Teche area off the computer. She realized that the local police knew the approximate whereabouts of every Beaudreau in their town, but one never knew what a dedicated fact checker could come up with.
* * * *
Office of Strategic Investigations Division, Broward County Sheriff’s Office, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Tuesday morning, September 23, 2014
On Tuesday morning, Chloe was beginning to get concerned. She had not heard anything further from Chief Rousseau in Louisiana, and she was beginning to wonder if they were taking this matter seriously. She need not have worried. She picked up her phone to the cheerful greeting of the Cajun police chief.
“Morning, detective. Took us a bit, but we’ve managed to find out that Antoinette Marie was seen going into a local convenience store on Bayou Teche. We didn’t make a big deal out of the information since we don’t want anyone to know we’re looking for her. Apparently, she’s hiding out at one of the family’s camps out in the swamp. That’s nothing new for her. She was born and raised on the bayou. She probably came in for food. I doubt she’s got a gaggle of little girl prostitutes out there. It would be too inconvenient getting them back and forth to the casinos where the money is to be made.”
“What do you suggest, chief?”
“I’d say to wait a bit and see if we can’t come up with a location on their crib. We know where Antoinette Marie is, at least for the moment. I’m going to put a man out in that area to keep an eye on things, someone the locals know so they don’t get suspicious and close ranks around one of their own. Of course, she could be moving around from camp to camp. You may not know what it’s like out there. The channels curve around on themselves, the trees overhang the water, and it’s very easy to get lost if you weren’t born to it. The Beaudreaus have several properties out there.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been studying the tax maps for the Bayou Teche area.”
“Dang, detective. You’re taking this serious, aren’t ya?”
“Sure am, chief. I’ve identified at least three small islands out in the bayou that belong to Beaudreau family members. I want that woman in jail in Florida and right damn now, or the next possible minute. She’s dangerous. I also want those girls off the streets and in some kind of safe situation. We’ve rescued five of them, but I want them all.”
“I agree with you there, ma’am. We are working on it. I’m also putting surveillance on some of the less upstanding members of the family to see what they’re up to. My money would be on Pierre Beaudreau to be the one running the girls in the casino areas. We’ve got eyes on him, but he’s at his home here in town. Why don’t you start making plans to come up here with your partner to bring this little sweetie on home? I don’t think it will be too much longer. We’ve got her in our sights now.”
“Sounds good, chief. I’ll start working on that. I would love to be in on the takedown, but don’t take any chances. Snap her up at the first opportunity. I doubt she’ll lead you to where they are keeping the girls, and I would hate to see her get away.”
Chloe called Kaylin to update her on the call from Chief Rousseau. “Do you think we should start making travel arrangements to go to Louisiana? I’ll talk to Sergeant Snyder if you talk to Sergeant Kelly.”
“Good idea.” Chloe could hear the hesitation in Kaylin’s voice. “Chloe, I hate to bring it up, but…have you talked to J.J.? He was in the club Saturday night by himself drinking at the bar. Jack talked to him for a few minutes, and he says J.J.’s in a bad way.”
“He came by here Friday night and I chased him off—then I went next door and got drunk with Eric and Steve. Not one of my smarter moves. I had a head the size of a basketball the next morning.”
“Do you think maybe you could…”
“No, I do not. Talk to Sergeant Kelly about a road trip. I’ll talk to you later.”
* * * *
Chloe briefed Sergeant Snyder on the situation in Louisiana. “Sir, they have an idea where she’s hiding out. There are several family compounds out in the swamp. She’s been spotted coming in for supplies. I don’t know what we could add to the likelihood of bringing Antoinette Marie in, but we will need
to be available to transport her back to Florida for prosecution.”
“Maybe you all should go up there now just to make sure the locals are pursuing our girl and to see what’s going on with locating the other kidnapped kids. I think you’re right and that you won’t be of any substantive help in tracking her down in the swamp, but you can keep the pressure on.”
“I think Chief Rousseau would like to see the back of the entire Beaudreau family. Apparently they are all bad seeds and have been for generations.”
“I’ll talk to Kelly and see what he thinks. Start making preparations to go up there.”
* * * *
Office of the St. Martinville Police Department, St. Martinville, St. Martin Parish, Louisiana, Thursday noon, September 25, 2014
Chloe, Kaylin, and Del arrived at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport outside New Orleans early Thursday morning. They rented a GMC Acadia SUV, had breakfast in the car, and headed west toward St. Martinville on the Bayou Teche between New Iberia and Lafayette. They arrived at the St. Martinville City Hall after a two-and-a-half-hour drive, piled out of the car, and headed for Chief Rousseau’s office.
“Glad you could make it, folks. We have had another sighting of Antoinette Marie Beaudreau. She came into town by boat again for supplies. She is probably hiding out at one of the Beaudreau compounds on the bayou. I’ve got officers out ‘fishing’ and checking out various locations. Unfortunately, we weren’t in a position to follow her back to her hideout yesterday.”
“From what I’ve been able to determine, chief, it would be very difficult to follow her on the bayou without being spotted. That’s not exactly a highway situation with a lot of traffic for distraction.” Chloe was concerned that Antoinette Marie would realize she was being watched and disappear again.
“That’s true. We are not trying to follow her in police boats. I’ve got men out in fishing boats who are actually fishing.” He grinned. “They’re loving it. We got a nice haul of crawfish last night. I’m thinking she’s probably at her granddaddy’s camp. It’s not the farthest into the swamp nor the closest to town. It’s well off the main channel on a fairly large hammock with a comfortable cabin. No electricity or running water, of course.”
“That’s got to be difficult for her.” Kaylin was grinning, and Chloe was sure she was thinking about the darling of Fort Lauderdale society as portrayed in her Gold Coast magazine interview.
“Not at all. She was raised out there on the bayou.”
“You should see the gated, two-story, six-thousand-square-foot mansion on the Intracoastal Waterway in Fort Lauderdale that she left behind. Believe me. She hasn’t been roughing it out in the Everglades.”
“When she left St. Martin Parish she left her roots behind. They are planted deep in the bayou. Antoinette Marie is a Beaudreau through and through.” He turned to Del. “Do you want to go out on the bayou with one of my teams?”
“I’d love to, chief. I may have to wrestle Chloe and Kaylin for the privilege though.”
“Well, we can’t have a caravan of deputies out there. We’re trying to keep a low profile. You will have to figure it out and take turns. I’ll have one of my men scout up some appropriate fishing duds for you.”
Chloe and Kaylin looked at each other. Apparently the “good old boy network” had just scored Del a seat in a fishing boat while they were going to have to cool their jets in town.
“Don’t worry, ladies. You’ll get your turn. Or, if we get a definite fix on her location, you can go out to pick her up in one of the police boats. You would be more comfortable on one of those ‘go fast’ boats anyway.” They were both slightly mollified by the opportunity to go out and “pick her up.”
* * * *
That afternoon the fishing boat Del was in with two St. Martinville police officers was drifting past a hammock that was heavily wooded with oak trees dripping Spanish moss. They spotted the boat that Antoinette Marie had taken into town tied to a rickety dock. The house was screened from view by the heavy foliage.
“That’s it. She’s here. Let’s just keep drifting on by. Cast your line out every now and then. Not too energetically. We want to look like we’re just out for an afternoon of fishing and beer drinking so we won’t spook her.” The officer in the ripped T-shirt and old jeans grinned as he took a pull from a can of Bud. “When we get around the next bend in the channel, I’ll radio the chief.”
* * * *
That evening, Chloe, Kaylin, and Del accompanied a squad of officers out onto the Bayou Teche in two police boats. They were waiting for dusk to surprise Antoinette Marie in her hideout. They had changed into dark jeans and T-shirts, had their weapons strapped to their thighs, and wore their BSO ball caps and badges. When Anne Marie was taken into custody, they wanted to be in BSO gear. They wanted her to know who to thank for her all-expenses-paid return trip to Fort Lauderdale.
They left the main channel to follow a narrow channel into the backcountry. The bayou at dusk was an awe-inspiring sight. The old oak trees festooned with heavy drapes of Spanish moss also sported orchids and blooming air plants of every color. The chatter of the birds almost drowned out the low drone of the boats. There were shallow marsh areas with thickets of gnarled cypress trees sprouting up out of the water and tall, white egrets fishing the shallows. Occasionally they saw what appeared to be long, floating logs that mysteriously disappeared as they drew near. Alligators. Chloe found herself moving more toward the center of the boat. She sure didn’t want to fall in and be dinner for one of those big guys. The placid, murky waters of the swamp had a rich, fecund scent that got right up into her nose. She had been out into the Everglades on airboats several times, but this was totally different—more primordial, more ancient. The Everglades “River of Grass” was open and flat and sunny with occasional oak hammocks on the horizon. This was dark and dank and mysterious.
When they neared the camp where Antoinette Marie’s skiff had been spotted, they brought their boats down to idle speed and coasted. The chief and his men discussed how they were going to go ashore and creep up on the cabin. Chloe hoped that Antoinette Marie was not armed, which was unlikely, especially out here on the bayou alone at night.
“Okay, men. We’ll cut the engines and pole up to the dock, go ashore quietly and surround the cabin—weapons ready, return fire if necessary. I’ve never known a Beaudreau to be unarmed so be careful.”
Chloe’s heart was in her throat. They had been pursuing the mysterious dark-haired woman for well over a month. This could be the end of the hunt. She hoped it was. If Antoinette Marie managed to elude them now, Chloe would have no idea where else to look for her. This was her natural go-to-ground place.
“I’d rather you deputies stay aboard the boat since you’re not familiar with the bayou and its denizens. I wouldn’t want one of you stepping on a snake and yelling out a warning to Antoinette Marie, whose ears are sharp and focused on the background noises of the swamp. No insult intended, but this is our home ground. I’m sure you are all tough as nails in a city situation.”
“No insult taken, chief. We are tough in a city situation, and I would truly hate to step on a snake—or one of those handsome gators of yours.” Chloe was smiling.
Kaylin said, “I’d rather meet one of them at Gucci in the form of a handbag or shoes, thanks very much.”
The sun had set over the trees, and long shadows had formed over the small island and the murky swamp waters. The St. Martinville officers unholstered their weapons and quietly climbed over the side of the boat on to the dock. They quickly disbursed into the shadows and crept up to surround the small cabin. When everyone was in place, the chief called out, “Antoinette Marie Beaudreau, come out with your hands up. The cabin is surrounded and you have nowhere to go. We have a Florida warrant for your arrest.” When there was no response, he continued. “You can leave here one of two ways, Antoinette Marie. I hope you’ll choose alive.”
After a few more minutes of silence, the door of the cabin
creaked open and Antoinette Marie appeared in the doorway. “There must be some mistake, Chief Rousseau. I ain’t never been to Florida.”
“Well, come on out then, and we’ll talk about it. Hands up. I don’t want to see any weapons, Antoinette Marie. I don’t want for this to get ugly.” She stepped out on the porch with her hands raised. One officer pulled her hands behind her and cuffed her while another one covered him. Apparently, they knew they had to be cautious where the Beaudreaus were concerned.
“Like I said, chief. I never been to Florida. What’s this about?”
“Let’s get aboard and get back to town. All your questions will be answered there.”
Antoinette Marie was helped aboard the police boat and seated. The officers had not relaxed their guard. Chloe knew the minute Antoinette Marie had an opportunity to look around and spot her. Her eyes narrowed and she said, “I knew you were going to be trouble the first time I saw you.”
“I can’t say the same for you, Anne Marie. Antoinette Marie Beaudreau, you are under arrest for the murder, felony kidnapping, and false imprisonment of Mitzi Jones and other unnamed minor children.” She read her Miranda rights and then continued. “I was very surprised to realize you were the mysterious dark-haired woman driving a Mercedes who was kidnapping runaway girls. Why would you risk everything you had to do that?”
Chloe's Rescue [The Black Iris Club 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 12
