by DeLeon, Jana
Carter stopped walking and looked at me. “What do you mean?”
I told him about our search of Ally’s house yesterday and the rigged window. His worry was so apparent it might as well have been broadcast. He ran his free hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “That is so far beyond the scope of a Peeping Tom. It’s stalking.”
“I know.”
He looked over at Billy, who was climbing in the sheriff’s boat, then back at me. “Let me get him booked, then I want us to go over every single thing we know about the creeper. Can you stick around?”
“Of course.”
He started off again for the boat and I fell in step behind him. A few days ago, I’d been convinced that nothing else in Sinful could surprise me.
I’d been wrong.
Chapter Twenty
It took Carter forty-five minutes to complete the booking paperwork, thirty to contact the public defender’s office and explain the mess, and an hour to calm Billy down enough to stop wailing like banshee. I had my doubts the quieter sniveling would last for long, so I was beyond happy when Carter suggested we head to Francine’s for a late lunch. Even at full capacity, it had to be more peaceful than the sheriff’s department.
Besides, I’d been itching for the past two hours to call Ally and tell her we’d caught the arsonist. It was one worry she could scratch off her list. But Carter insisted that the conversation was one better had in person and that it would be better all the way around if he got Billy booked before the story spread through Sinful. I’d spent the entire time surfing the Internet and checking the clock every couple of minutes.
“I got an email from the FBI while I was talking to the public defender,” Carter said as we exited the sheriff’s department. “They arrested Floyd’s killer.”
“Who was it?”
“One of the Hebert family guys. Name of Marco Sabien.”
“That’s him! Billy said the weird guy in the bar who was looking for Floyd was named Marco. He was the one who took my shoe.” I frowned. “Do you think I’m going to have a problem?”
“Doubtful. Someone popped him as they were transferring him to lockup. Shot him as they were crossing the parking lot—Marco walking right in between two FBI agents.”
“Holy crap!”
“It sounds like a big mess, but I doubt they pursue it any further. There’s no point.”
“Wow.”
As we crossed the street, Gertie’s ancient Cadillac pulled into a parking space in front of the café and Gertie and Ida Belle climbed out. They saw us and waited as we headed over.
“We caught the arsonist,” I said, unable to hold in the good news any longer. “And the FBI got the guy who killed Floyd.”
“What?”
“Who?”
They both spoke at once.
I smiled and Carter and I filled them in on the Marco situation first, then on the fire at the sheriff’s department and my water bucket leap that turned out to be correct. When we were done, they both shook their heads.
“I always knew Billy would wind up in trouble,” Gertie said. “He was always too gullible.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Floyd and that real estate guy definitely took advantage of poor Billy. With any luck, a jury will see the boy’s a dimwit and go easy on him.”
“He’s got no priors,” Carter said, “and I’m sure some people would testify to his, uh, shortcomings in the mental department. It’s possible he could get off with probation. It really depends on how much pressure Ally’s insurance company puts on the prosecutor.”
“I bet Ally is relieved,” Gertie said.
“She doesn’t know yet,” I said. “We were just on our way to tell her and have some lunch.”
“We were too,” Gertie said. “Can we join you?”
Ida Belle elbowed Gertie in the ribs, and Gertie gave her a dirty look. “They probably have things to discuss alone,” Ida Belle said and glared at Gertie.
Gertie glared back for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Never mind. You two go on about your business.”
I shook my head. “Actually, I told Carter about the window at Ally’s house and we were going to go over the facts on the creeper case. If you don’t mind talking stalkers over lunch, you might be able to help.”
“Of course we don’t mind,” Ida Belle said. “We’ll do anything we can to help Ally.”
“Ha!” Carter laughed. “Don’t I know it? Farmer Frank is hounding me for that motorcycle owner. He wants to send a bill for the chicken coop. I don’t suppose you can help me out with that?”
Ida Belle shrugged. “Don’t have a clue.”
Carter shook his head and we all headed into the café. The lunch rush was over, but the café was still half full. We managed to find a four-top in a back corner at least one table apart from the other patrons and took our seats. A couple seconds later, Francine popped out to take our drink order.
“Where’s Ally?” I asked.
“She had to take off early,” Francine said. “Her insurance adjuster called and needed to get inside her house. Lunch rush was almost over, so I figured I could cover until she got back.”
Gertie looked confused. “I thought I saw her car parked out back when we were unloading some donation boxes for the church.”
Francine nodded. “It wouldn’t start. That cute new fireman took a look but said she probably needed a new battery. He gave her a lift. Y’all want sweet tea?”
We all nodded and Francine headed to the kitchen. “Oh well,” I said, feeling disappointed. “I guess we’ll have to tell her when she’s done with the insurance adjuster.”
Ida Belle nodded. “So about the creeper…”
We started our discussion about the creeper, pausing only long enough to give Francine our food order. I covered the facts as I knew them, leaving out, of course, the unfortunate rock salt incident. I was taking that one to the grave. Carter filled in with the minimal information he had, then we all started throwing out ideas.
By the time our lunch arrived, we’d exhausted every conceivable possibility and weren’t a bit closer to figuring out who the creeper was. The sad part was aside from a handful of people, the creeper could be anyone in Sinful, including the sleazy real estate agent whose cell phone was conveniently going straight to voice mail.
“Maybe it was Billy,” Gertie said.
“He said he didn’t know where I lived, and I think he was telling the truth.” Billy was clearly a moron, but he didn’t strike me as the type of guy who’d stalk a woman. Of course, given his limited mental capacity, he might not see it that way. I shook my head. “I just don’t get the stalker vibe from him.”
“What about Floyd?” Gertie asked. “I got all kinds of bad vibes from him.”
“True,” I said. “There’s nothing I would put past Floyd.”
“He had the easiest access to Ally’s house,” Ida Belle said.
Carter nodded. “Given that he was desperate for money, Floyd is the most likely explanation for the window. He might have thought he could lift cash or jewelry while the house was empty. Maybe he rigged the window so he could return later and see police reports or insurance documents about the fire. He was killed in her backyard. I have no doubt that whoever he owed money to had him killed, but he had to be on Ally’s property for some other reason.”
I frowned. “I suppose you’re right. But it still feels like we’re missing something.”
“You haven’t seen the creeper since Floyd was murdered,” Gertie pointed out.
“Yeah. That’s true.” All the facts lined up and pointed to Floyd. It made as much sense as anything else, but with Floyd dead, we’d never know for certain, and that bothered me. “Wait a minute. Floyd can’t be the creeper because the first night the creeper came to my house, Floyd was in jail.”
Gertie’s face fell. “That’s right.”
“Maybe it was Billy after all,” Ida Belle said. “Once he realized he set fire to the wrong house, he may have follo
wed Ally to your house to try to get information for Floyd. Or even to make sure she was all right. He’s silly enough to do something like that.”
“I suppose it’s a possible,” I agreed. “He could have come lurking around my house after the fire to see if he could overhear Ally and me talking about it. Maybe that first night it was Billy and after that it was Floyd.”
“The simplest explanation is usually the right one,” Ida Belle said.
“I don’t know that it’s simple,” Carter said, “but it’s the closest we can get to logical. I think I need to have another conversation with Billy.”
I nodded. The explanation covered all the bases, but my mind still hadn’t committed to our conclusion.
The bells above the café door jangled and a woman about Ida Belle and Gertie’s age walked in and looked around. Ida Belle poked Gertie and nodded toward the door before lifting her hand to wave. “Cora,” Ida Belle called out.
The woman looked around until she locked onto Ida Belle, then smiled. She crossed the café to our table, where both Ida Belle and Gertie rose to give her a hug and they made quick introductions. Carter jumped up.
“Let me get you a chair,” he said.
“No, that’s fine,” Cora said. “I’m meeting a friend for lunch.”
“I thought you’d moved to Virginia to be near your daughter,” Gertie said.
Cora nodded. “About ten years ago, but Stanley is at that awful fishing tournament in New Orleans. He comes back for it as many years as I let him get away with it. Anyway, this year, I figured I’d make the trip with him and visit a few people.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Are you still in touch with Edith Leger?”
“I talked to her cousin sometime last year. She’s in a nursing home in Houston, but her dementia is so bad, she can’t remember anyone.”
“That’s too bad,” Ida Belle said.
“It’s awful,” Cora said. “I hope the Lord sees fit to take me before I get in such condition.”
“Her grandson is living here now,” Gertie said. “I bet Edith would have liked that.”
Cora frowned. “You mean David?”
“Yes,” Gertie said. “She only had the one grandson, right?”
“Far as I know, but I’m afraid you’re confused. David is in the military. He lives in the Philippines.”
Ida Belle frowned. “Maybe he finished his time. He hasn’t been here very long.”
Cora looked even more confused. “That’s simply not possible. He just got married last week. My grandniece was in the wedding. David only had enough leave to come back to the States for the wedding. They were leaving the next morning to go back to the base.”
“He knew all her favorite things.” I felt the blood rush out of my head and I jumped up from the table. “David, or whoever he really is, is the creeper.”
I grabbed Ida Belle’s arm. “He knew her favorite restaurant and bakery. He brought her tulips.”
“Oh my God,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie paled. “Oh no! Ally turned him down for another date.”
“And she’s with him now,” I said. “That dead battery was a setup, and I’ll bet anything the phone call wasn’t from her insurance agent.”
Carter jumped up from his chair and called dispatch to put out an APB for David and Ally. Cora stood frozen in place, the horror of what we were talking about apparently sinking in.
“Do you have any idea where he would take her?” Carter asked.
I tried to focus on every single word I’d exchanged with the fake David. “He said he was renting an apartment above the preacher’s garage.”
Carter shook his head. “He knows that would be the first place we’d look. I’ll send Deputy Breaux over there to check it out, but I don’t think that’s our answer.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to force my mind to think like a stalker. “We have to consider what his plan is for her.”
“Men who kidnap women usually only have one plan,” Ida Belle said, her voice grim.
“Wouldn’t he just leave town?” Gertie asked.
“Maybe,” Ida Belle said, “but it’s a long stretch of highway between Sinful and New Orleans, and not a lot of places to hide in between.”
“Unless you go into the marsh,” Carter pointed out.
“But if he’s not the real David,” I said, “that means he might not know much about Sinful or its surroundings.”
Gertie nodded. “Then he’d take her somewhere he knew.”
“Like her house,” I said. “With Floyd dead, no one is around to see anything unusual.”
“And with the insurance story,” Ida Belle said, “no one would go looking for her for hours.”
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Ally, but it went straight to voice mail. I looked at Carter. “We have to get to Ally’s house, and don’t even try to leave us behind or we’ll just follow you.”
“Let’s go,” Carter said and we all dashed out of the café, leaving a stunned Cora behind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Carter pulled out of Main Street and raced into Ally’s neighborhood. “I can’t pull up to her house,” he said. “He’ll be on watch and he might kill her if he sees me.”
“Park down the block past Floyd’s house,” I said. “The road bends toward the swamp and he won’t be able to see your truck from any of the windows.”
Carter eased around the block and parked at the curb just in front of a huge hedge. He looked at us. “I allowed you this far, but I have to ask you to stay here. I can’t be responsible for anything happening to you.”
“But we can help,” Gertie argued.
Carter shook his head. “You’d only be in my way. Please, stay here and if you see or hear anything, call for backup.”
He jumped out of the truck and hurried behind the hedge that bordered Floyd’s yard and the swamp. As he disappeared into the hedge, I turned around. “I don’t have my gun on me.”
Ida Belle stared. “You’re kidding.”
“I was running this morning and didn’t think I’d need it. I haven’t been home since.”
“It’s a flimsy excuse,” Gertie said, “but I suppose I can loan you one of mine.” She reached into the enormous handbag she was never without and pulled out a 1911 .45 ACP.
“Good Lord,” I said as I took the pistol from her. “That’s serious firepower.”
She reached back into the bag and brought out a Glock. “I’ll take the lighter one if you don’t mind.”
“Do you have any more guns in there?”
Gertie shook her head. “Just some Mace, a hunting knife, and a bag of prunes.”
It was no wonder her back was always killing her. “Ida Belle?”
Ida Belle pulled her nine-millimeter from her waistband and chambered the first round. “I think we should head through the swamp and approach from the back,” she said.
I nodded and we jumped out of the truck and dashed into the swamp.
“I wonder if that bobcat is around,” Gertie said.
I’d been thinking the same thing. “Let’s hope he sleeps during the day.”
It took us only a couple of minutes to make it to Ally’s back fence line. “What do we do now?” Gertie asked. “There’s only the shed and a couple of bushes.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “It’s not enough cover. Anyone looking out a back window will see you.”
I scanned the backyard, knowing that they were right, but searching for an alternative. Then I zeroed in on the row of trees on the side of Ally’s house opposite Floyd’s. “I have an idea,” I said and pointed to the trees. I could use one of the trees to get over the fence and access the rigged window on the side of the kitchen.
“What do you want us to do?” Ida Belle asked.
“Break into Floyd’s house and go upstairs. See if you can see into Ally’s house. If you get a lock on their position, text it to me. And be careful that he doesn’t see you.”
They nodded and hurried off. I moved farth
er into the swamp and skirted the wrought iron fence, using a set of bushes for coverage. I ran down the side of the wooden fence, then shoved the pistol into my sports bra before leaping up into the cypress tree. I climbed quickly, careful to remain on the back side of the tree until I was higher than the windows.
My phone vibrated and I clung to the tree with one arm while checking the message.
Shadows moving through curtains in Ally’s room.
I stuck the phone back in my pocket and as I started to swing around the tree, I heard movement below me. I looked down and saw Carter slide over the top of the fence from Ally’s front yard and hurry down the side of the house, ducking below the windows. When he got to the rigged kitchen window, he pushed it up and eased himself over and into the house with barely any sound.
Impressive.
But I didn’t have time to wax poetic on Carter’s skills. And following him through the window put two of us in the same position downstairs. What we needed was coverage from another angle. I pulled out my phone and sent Ida Belle a text.
Stay put with sight line to bedroom. If you get a shot at David, take it.
A couple seconds later, the reply came.
Damn straight.
I moved up a couple more branches, then swung around the tree trunk and ran across a large branch that hovered over Ally’s roof. I swung myself down below the branch until my feet connected with the roof, then dropped onto the roof without a sound and slipped across it to the corner over the master bathroom at the end of the hallway from Ally’s room.
I leaned over the side of the house and pulled on the drainpipe. It felt sturdy, so I swung over the edge of the roof and shinnied down it until I was next to the bathroom window. I tapped the glass with my finger and smiled. It was that frosted plastic stuff. I pulled out my keys and dug into the frame of the plastic, sliding my key along the edge until I loosened one side of it. Then I slipped my fingers beneath and pulled the entire piece out of the flimsy metal frame.
I dropped it into the bushes below me and swung my legs around and into the window. I clutched the top of the frame to slow my drop, then slid silently into the bathtub. As I crept into the master bedroom, my phone vibrated.
