by Robin Caroll
He shoved the thought away, refusing to dwell on Tara LeBlanc. He had his faith, his career and his friends. He didn’t have time for romance or a relationship.
And with Tara’s belief in voodoo, there was no potential for one.
Or was there?
FOUR
Night fell over Lagniappe in a hush. No storms, no quaking skies, nothing special to signify another day was done.
Tara stared at the phone in her hand, as she’d been doing for nearly half an hour. She needed to call Alyssa, at least, but didn’t have enough energy for the fight she knew would ensue. She’d never really gotten along with Alyssa, not like she did with CoCo. Maybe because Alyssa had fled the bayou as soon as she’d been able. She only just began accepting her roots in the past year. Marrying Jackson Devereaux and living in New Orleans probably helped, too. Her sisters deserved to know about Grandmere. Especially if she never recovered. Tara swallowed the thought. That wouldn’t happen. She’d already made the healing potion, and would get some of it into Grandmere’s system somehow.
If only CoCo weren’t on her honeymoon. Tara would much rather deal with her oldest sister than Alyssa, who would load up her husband and head out from New Orleans immediately. She let out a sigh. The phone wouldn’t dial itself. Then again, maybe she should wait until tomorrow. Give the potion time to work. Wouldn’t it be better to call both couples with more hopeful news than what she had now?
CoCo and Luc. Alyssa and Jackson. Tara, alone.
The cold hard truth hit her square between the eyes like never before. Without Grandmere, she was all alone. No one to talk to, no one to share her fears and burdens with. Life wasn’t fair. The need to cry nearly choked her.
She. Would. Not. Feel. Sorry. For. Herself.
The sheriff’s face flashed through her mind. Why was that? Tara pinched her eyes closed and shook her head hard.
“No!” She shoved herself to her feet. No more wallowing in self-pity. Starting now, she’d be proactive. She’d find the person responsible for Tanty’s and Grandmere’s condition, see justice served, then her life could get back to normal. She’d never cared much about men or being in a relationship with one, so what was her problem now? Look at how her sisters had changed their lives to accommodate their husbands—CoCo had to convert to the whole Christian thing, and Alyssa gave up her journalism career to move to New Orleans and marry. If that was what love did to people, she’d pass, thank you very much.
She stalked to the kitchen table and opened her backpack, then carefully set out the three client sheets from Tanty’s. The master ledger followed. Tara hunched in the chair, studying the paperwork.
After rereading the note on Rebekah Carlson, Tara looked up formula 38 in the ledger. And nearly fell out of the chair. That was the treatment for male impotency. The mayor suffered from impotency? No wonder Mrs. Carlson went to see Tanty.
Did the mayor know? What if Mrs. Carlson had told him someone saw her leaving? Implications knotted Tara’s stomach. How far would Mayor Carlson go to protect his public image, especially over something so private?
Beep! Beep! Beep!
She jumped, disoriented for a second, then pressed off the alarm on her watch. Time to go visit Grandmere. Tara headed to the car, shoving her hand into her pocket to touch the vial. Healing potion good to go.
She turned the key, but the engine didn’t respond. Great. She didn’t have time for this. Running a hand over the dashboard, she whispered, “Come on, baby.” After twisting the key three more times in rapid succession, the engine turned over. She pumped the accelerator several times, letting the engine rev. Whew!
The air conditioner didn’t have time to get the car’s cabin cooled off before Tara whipped into a parking spot outside the hospital. Too much heat and humidity for an old clunker like her Mustang to overcome. Her damp shirt clung to her back as she made her way through the automatic doors.
Cold air blasted her face. She paused, closing her eyes for a brief moment and relishing the reprieve from the oppressive heat. Only May, and already over ninety degrees. It would be a long hot summer.
Two nurses greeted her as she stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor. They told her there was no change with her grandmother. She fingered the vial in her pocket again—she’d just see about that “no change” status.
Grandmere’s face appeared even paler. Worse than when she’d had her heart attack, even. Tara flashed a shaky smile to the nurse exiting the room, clipboard in hand. She glanced over her shoulder. No one stood outside the glass wall of the ICU unit. No one watched her.
She withdrew the vial from her pocket. The machines attached to Grandmere emitted a steady beep. Tara’s heartbeat beat in time. She unscrewed the lid and withdrew the dropper. Another glance over her shoulder. Coast still clear.
Tara eased forward and slipped the end of the dropper past her grandmother’s cracked lips. She pressed the little bulb, releasing four drops into Grandmere’s mouth. And waited. The potion would absorb quickly through the tongue.
Seconds, then minutes ticked off the clock. Tara waited. She closed her eyes and mumbled the voodoo words she’d been taught.
The beeps from the machine broke rhythm—skipping once, doubling in the next second.
Tara opened her eyes and fell silent, staring at her grandmother. There—was that a twitch or had her eyelids quivered?
She repeated the administration of four drops before slipping the vial back into the pocket of her shorts. Grandmere couldn’t have more potion until tonight. Would the dosage now be enough to bring her from her coma?
The door behind Tara swhished open. She jerked and turned.
“Didn’t mean to startle you, Ms. LeBlanc.” The doctor, his pristine white coat flapping as he walked, moved to Grandmere’s side and inspected the machine. “How’s our patient?”
“I think she’s looking better. Don’t you?”
He cast a serious look in Tara’s direction. “While she’s in stable condition, there’s been no change in her vitals.”
Tara stood, fighting to look him in the eye. “What about her tests? Have any results come back?”
“Her heart’s fine—she hasn’t suffered even a mild attack.”
Tara already knew that. “What about the toxicology screen?”
“It’ll take a few more days for the results to come back.”
“And in the meantime?”
“We monitor and wait.”
Not good enough. Same lines they’d been fed about Tanty. Tara leaned over and gave her grandmother a kiss on her sunken cheek and then strode from the ICU room.
And ran straight into Sheriff Theriot.
His chest was as unmoving as a brick wall. She would have fallen over had he not steadied her. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”
Frustration filled her. “I’m sick of this.” Tears seared the back of her eyelids.
His brows lowered. “Has something happened with your grandmother? Is there a change?”
“No. She’s the same. And I’m getting the same tired answers. That’s the problem. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder, and comfort eased through her. “These things take time. They’ll find out what’s wrong.”
She shrugged off his touch. She didn’t need comfort from a cop. A Christian one at that, even if his image danced in her mind at the most inopportune times. “Not soon enough. I know someone’s responsible, and I need to find out who.”
“There’s nothing for you to do but be here for your grandmother.” He hitched an eyebrow. “And pray.”
Tara snorted. “Yeah, you do that. I see it working so well with Tanty.” The acidic comment stuck to her tongue, but she couldn’t help it. What if she lost both Grandmere and Tanty? Then where would she be?
He cleared his throat and scowled. “Have you called your sisters?”
Great. Another hit below the belt. “Not yet.”
“You need to let them know, Tara.”
“I kno
w.” She cleared the frog in her throat. “I’ll call them this afternoon. I just don’t have any information for them.”
“They deserve to know. She’s their grandmother, too.”
She gritted her teeth. “You don’t have to tell me. This is my family business, Sheriff. I’ll handle it.” She turned and stomped to the elevator.
Cooyon! As if she didn’t know what she should do. But she couldn’t help wanting to give the potion a little time to work before she called her sisters. Any improvement would be better than what she could tell them now.
She got off the elevator, crossed the lobby and hit the hospital’s double doors. Humidity suffocated her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The late-afternoon sun blasted her as she made her way to the car, gluing her shirt to her back again. She slipped behind the wheel. Hot vinyl seared her bare legs. She winced and fumbled with the keys.
“Ms. LeBlanc! Ms. LeBlanc!”
A woman ran across the parking lot, waving her arms. “Wait, Ms. LeBlanc.”
Who was she? Tara didn’t recognize her, didn’t think she’d even seen her before. The engine turned over and lukewarm air sputtered from the vents. She kept the door open as the woman approached.
Red-faced and panting, the waddling woman reached for the door. “I’m glad I caught you.” She jerked her hand free as hot metal made contact with her flesh. “Whew! That’s hot!”
Patience had never been Tara’s strong suit. “Do I know you?”
“Oh, no. Sorry.” The woman’s thin brown hair was stuck to the sides of her puffy face. “I’m a member of your grandmother’s church. The ladies’ group wanted to let you know that we’re having a round-the-clock prayer vigil for Mrs. LeBlanc.”
Lovely. Just what she didn’t need to deal with right now. But these were her grandmother’s new friends, and her Southern upbringing dictated she not be rude. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to know that once she comes out of the coma.”
“And we wanted to let you know that someone from the church will be bringing dinner by to you every evening.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But we want to. And if you need anything, you give us a holler.” The woman passed a business card to Tara. “I’m Suzie, by the way.”
Tara took the card, giving it a once-over. A cherub floated in the left corner, while the words Godly Women jumped off the card. An e-mail address and phone number were listed beneath. “Uh, thanks.”
“I mean that. If there’s anything we can do for you, just call that number. Someone’s available to answer twenty-four/seven.”
Oh, happy day. Time to end this little tête-à-tête. “I appreciate that. Thanks again.” Tara eased the door closed. At least the air conditioner blew cooler air now.
She put the car in reverse, still gripping the card. She stared at it for a moment before dropping it into the console. Suzie waved from the parking lot as if they were long-lost best friends. Tara turned the car and pointed it toward home.
Godly woman? More like strange woman.
“Sheriff, I understand two elderly ladies have been hospitalized over the past two days.”
Bubba shifted in his chair and doodled as he gripped the phone tighter. “Yes, Mayor. My aunt and Luc Trahan’s grandmother-in-law.” Was that even a word, grandmother-in-law?
“Mrs. LeBlanc is a member of our congregation. Is there something going on I should know about?”
Swallowing back a groan, Bubba dropped the pencil onto his desk calendar. “We’re still waiting for test results on both ladies.”
“What I’m asking, Sheriff, is, is there a threat to Lagniappe?” The mayor’s curt words matched his tone.
What Bubba wouldn’t give to be able to answer that question with certainty. “At this moment, sir, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? That’s not good enough. I need to know. I have to protect the citizens. They’ve suffered enough recently.” Mayor Carlson’s implication cut to the core.
Bubba cringed against the reference. Like he didn’t remember? “I understand, sir.”
“I’m working behind the scenes to try to bring new life into this town. The last thing I need is to scare off potential industrialists.”
“I’ll get you an answer as soon as I know something.”
“You’re the sheriff—light a fire under somebody.”
“Yes, sir.” But the disconnecting click told him the mayor didn’t hear him. Bubba slammed the phone back in its cradle.
He didn’t need the added stress of Mayor Carlson breathing down his neck. If he were smart, he’d take a leave of absence and spend his time at his aunt’s bedside. Unfortunately he didn’t have anyone to take his place. Deputy Gary Anderson was good but still too wet behind the ears to head an investigation. Still, this wasn’t really a police investigation, right? Just a follow-up.
Reports sat on the edge of his desk. He grabbed the first folder—Anderson’s report from the gas company. No leaks detected at Tanty’s house, inside or out.
Bubba closed the folder and rubbed his stubbled chin. Had he shaved this morning? He honestly couldn’t remember. Okay, so no gas leak. What else?
Tanty Shaw and Marie LeBlanc. Both hospitalized with the same symptoms. Both elderly. Neither very aggressive or with any known enemies. It had to be something medical, right? Nothing else made sense.
But two women having the same mysterious illness that medical staff couldn’t easily explain left too many unanswered questions. That didn’t make sense, either.
What was the connection?
He closed his eyes and leaned back in his worn chair. Their ages were close, but so were many others in town. They both lived close to the bayou, but so did a lot of other folks.
Voodoo.
Bubba shot upright and stared at the blank wall. That was the only common denominator between them that ruled out most of the rest of the town.
Only, Marie LeBlanc didn’t practice voodoo anymore.
But Tara did.
Ah, Tara. Just her mental image sent strange sensations racing through him. He’d known her almost all her life, but now, something about her made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t had a chance to analyze his recent reaction to her yet, but he would. Later. After he figured out what was going on in his town.
Voodoo had to be the connection. He had no clue what all that involved. He’d made it a point to steer clear of such nonsense a long time ago. Maybe it was time he paid more attention.
With a heavy sigh, Bubba lifted the phone. He could think of only one person he could ask, but that person would ask questions about why he wanted to know. Everything could snowball from one phone call.
Unfortunately Tara would be on the receiving end of the avalanche.
He didn’t have a choice. He flipped through his Rolodex, found the entry and dialed.
FIVE
That interfering, meddlesome man!
Tara marched into the house, muttering under her breath about Sheriff Bubba Theriot. How dare the man take it upon himself to notify her family about Grandmere’s illness? He had no right. She’d barely made it home when her cell phone rang and Alyssa lit into her. Now she had to deal with her sister and brother-in-law coming to town. As well, Alyssa had called CoCo on her honeymoon.
Oh, just wait until she saw that man again. She’d give him a piece of her mind, no matter how good-looking he was. Good-looking? She must really be going nuts.
The house needed a cleaning. Dirty coffee cups and plates of Grandmere’s still sat in the sink. Tara’s wet towels from this morning hung haphazardly across the shower rod, and her paperwork covered the kitchen table. Alyssa could probably handle dirty dishes and wet towels with minimal complaint but not the paperwork—not anything to do with voodoo.
She reached for the ledger, but her gaze fell on the client sheets. Her heart gave a little kick.
Suzie Richard!
Tara scanned the notes again.
Female issue. Discussed options. R
ecommended to physician. Client became distraught, not wanting husband to know and medical procedure won’t allow for total discretion. Denied further requests from client.
Could this be the same Suzie who gave her the business card outside the hospital?
Tara went out to her car and grabbed the card from the console. No names listed. Just Godly Women, an e-mail address and a phone number. Why hadn’t she used the good manners Grandmere taught her and gotten the woman’s last name?
Returning to the house, Tara stared at Tanty’s comments on the client sheets. Just how distraught was Suzie? Hmm. She glanced at the card again. Might not even be the same person. Then again, maybe the name sounded familiar because Grandmere’d mentioned Suzie when talking about her church group. Could be a long shot, but it was the best lead she had at the moment.
She could lose Grandmere and Aunt Tanty. The enormity and severity of the situation hit her anew. The loss would kill her. She’d have no one to turn to. CoCo had Luc. Alyssa had Jackson. Tara wouldn’t have anyone to help ease her grief. She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t think along those lines. She was a LeBlanc, strong and determined.
After passing a broom over the living-room floor and cleaning the bathroom, she made sure the other two bedrooms had clean sheets. Then, exhausted, she fell onto her own bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, whirring slowly, its steady ticking punctuating the hum of the air conditioner. Her eyelids drooped.
Bam!
Tara jerked upright, blinking away cobwebs.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The screen door! Had she even closed it? She flipped her legs over the bed to the floor. “Coming.” She stumbled down the stairs, rubbing her face.
“Tara?”
Recognition hit with a slight thrill, followed immediately by irritation. She pushed open the screen. “Sheriff.”
“Is everything okay? Are you all right?” His broad shoulders filled the doorway.
A spark of attraction tried to ignite, but she used her annoyance to stamp it out. “Aside from my grandmother being in a coma without any medical reason and you going behind my back to call my family, I’m just hunky-dory. Why do you ask?”
