by Robin Caroll
“We’re going to remove the machines. We’ll continue to run tests throughout the night.”
“When can we see her?” Alyssa asked.
The doctor shook his head. “Not for several hours. Five at least.” He held up his hand against any protest. “We have to continue these tests to know how to best treat the patient. And she’s exhausted, or will be after the battery of tests. She’ll need her rest.”
“Can’t we see her for just a minute?” Tara asked.
Might be none of his business, but Bubba knew exactly, or pretty close, how drained their grandmother felt. “The doctor’s right.”
Everyone stared at him.
“I remember. It’s taxing every time they take you off a machine. And even though she’s been in a coma, she’ll just want to sleep.” He shrugged. “At least, I did.”
The doctor nodded at him gratefully.
“What time do you suggest we return?” Jacks asked the doctor.
“Come around noon. We’ll have concluded our tests, and Mrs. LeBlanc will have had some time to rest.”
“Noon!” Tara all but stomped her foot.
“Yes, you can have lunch with her then.” The doctor was resolute. “You want what’s best for her, yes?”
Tara’s frustration shone in her glittering eyes, but she bit back any further comment.
Alyssa lay a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Of course. We’ll be back at noon.” She tugged Tara’s arm. “C’mon, we need to let Grandmere’s church members know what’s going on.”
By the look on Tara’s face, that option wasn’t her top choice, but she let the doctor’s dig slide. Bubba walked with the doctor down the hallway. “Doctor, I was wondering if you could give me an update on my aunt, Tanty Shaw.”
Bubba glanced over his shoulder at the receding waiting room.
Tara looked right at him, her eyes penetrating. A brief smile played across her lips.
He almost tripped over his boots.
Tara’s stomach churned. Bubba Theriot looked so discouraged, so downtrodden over Tanty. It nearly broke her heart.
Wait a minute. Why did she care? He was just a cop, a Jesus follower, someone she’d known practically all her life, but hadn’t paid any special attention to. Tall, nicely built, with red hair—and his gait showed a slight limp every now and again. Bubba wasn’t anyone to get excited about. Was he?
So why did her stomach feel funny every time she got around him lately? Probably just nerves. A lot had happened in a short time. Nothing to get excited about.
“Coming?” Alyssa asked. The ladies from the church had disbanded, going home to call the other members of the congregation to share the good news. They truly thought their prayers had been answered, that God had healed Grandmere. Their conviction touched Tara, but it didn’t make sense. Not to someone who understood the truth. Yet they believed so much. So strongly.
Tara shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers touched the vial. Her heart sped. The healing potion! That was what had brought Grandmere out of a coma. It worked, no matter that everyone else believed in a miracle from heaven.
She needed to get it into Tanty. Fast.
“Uh, I’m gonna go check on Tanty for a minute.”
Her brother-in-law hitched a brow. “Isn’t Bubba with her? They won’t let you in.”
“I know. But since Grandmere’s doing so much better, maybe—”
Alyssa threaded her arm through Tara’s. “Come on, you’re not gonna sneak in on Grandmere and get in trouble with the doctors again.”
Resentment stuck in Tara’s craw, but she allowed herself to be led into the elevator, out of the hospital and across the parking lot. Better to pick her battles carefully.
The breeze had picked up, stirring the dust. The sky hung clear over their heads—no sign of rain. If Lagniappe didn’t get something soon, all the plant life would die.
Foliage!
She’d have to gather from the bayou when she got home if she planned on visiting with Grandmere at lunch tomorrow. Most people didn’t feel safe in the swamp after dark, but Tara’d grown up playing in it. Besides, she had her voodoo to guide and keep her safe, yes?
She followed the taillights of her sister and brother-in-law’s car down the winding road home. Maybe they’d go to bed as soon as they got home, allowing her to sneak into the bayou without having to explain. Yet another argument with Alyssa just wasn’t on her agenda. Not at three in the morning.
After parking, the trio trekked up the wooden stairs to the LeBlanc plantation home. Jacks opened the door. Alyssa crossed the threshold. Tara hesitated. Jacks quirked a single brow. “Coming?”
She took a deep breath and lifted a casual shoulder. “I think I’m going to sit out here for a while.” She flashed him a half smile. “I have a lot to process.”
He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, then nodded. “I understand. I’ll be praying for you.”
Every muscle in her body tensed. Praying. Yeah, that worked so well. Had the entire town become delusional? Sure seemed that way with all the talk of praying and miracles. But she didn’t have time to argue the point. She turned and faced the bayou, letting the smell of water and moss wash over her. The door creaked behind her before a soft catch sounded.
She waited a few minutes, then rushed to the workhouse. She grabbed her collection bag in the dark, not chancing that Jacks or Alyssa might glance out the window and catch her. Slipping the strap over her shoulder, Tara shoved her feet into the rubber boots by the door, grabbed a flashlight and then headed toward the deep part of the bayou.
Dry grass and dead leaves crunched under her boots and the beam of her flashlight bounced as she made her way farther into the wooded bowels of the bayou. A hoot owl sounded, followed by a gentle stir of wings as it took flight. Tree frogs cried for rain. She could relate.
Tara inspected several plants, all dry and withering. She’d have to get closer to the bayou canal to find viable foliage for her potions. Adjusting her route, she headed toward the water’s bank.
The moon reflected off the still bayou. A sheet of glass was what it looked like. Tara bent to inspect the plants near the edge of the water, kneeling on the mushy ground.
Crackling footsteps reverberated through the dense underbrush. Tara turned off the flashlight and glanced up, her gaze sweeping the area. Something big rustled behind her, making the hair on the back of her neck jump to attention. A figure in black ran past, heading in the direction of the main outlet to open waters.
What in the world…?
Tara jumped to her feet, heart thudding. Her fingers dug into the worn canvas of her satchel.
The revving of a boat engine carried over the still bayou. Tara dropped her collection bag and ran all-out toward the inlet. Her thigh muscles burned as she jumped over fallen logs and ducked under low-lying branches. Adrenaline pushed her harder, faster.
She reached the clearing at the inlet’s mouth just in time to catch sight of a boat exiting the canal and turning into the main waterway. Squinting, she could make out nothing identifiable about the craft. She fought to catch her breath, bending at the waist and planting her palms on her knees.
Who’d been running through the bayou in the wee hours of the morning? More importantly, why?
The peace of the bayou was lost for her now. Violated. Tara meandered back through the woods, collected her stuff and trudged home, her heart heavier than the empty bag. Gathering potion ingredients would be futile when she was in this mood. One thing Grandmere had taught her well—when selecting ingredients, your mind must be on visualizing the potions you’re collecting for. Otherwise, there was the chance the potion wouldn’t work.
She entered the shed and flipped on the light. It hardly mattered if her sister saw the light now. More than likely, Alyssa was sound asleep, cuddled up next to her husband. Loneliness washed over Tara in waves. Tears burned her eyes. For a moment, she saw Bubba and how lonely he had looked, too, standing with the doctor and worrying about his aunt.
No. She wouldn’t go down that road again. She’d made her choice, and it was to pursue her training over a relationship. Blinking, she focused on the room—and let out a startled cry.
The room sat in utter chaos. Papers were tossed all over the workstations and floor. Broken glass littered the tabletops. Leaves and stems were scattered everywhere. The window was shattered. Chairs and stools overturned. Shelves ajar, their contents broken and lying in heaps.
Fresh tears stung. Only this time, they were tears of frustration. Anger.
Who would do such a thing? Tara’s gaze darted to her sister’s bedroom window. No, not even Alyssa would go this far, no matter how much she detested Tara’s involvement with voodoo. Tara pressed her palm against the bridge of her nose.
The person running through the bayou. Running away. From what he’d done. Him. Yes, with her eyes closed, Tara could make out the blurred figure. Well over her five-six. Wide shoulders. Definitely a man. What else could she recall? He’d been wearing all black. If only she’d thought to turn her flashlight back on. Had he even known she was there?
Which made the next question storm Tara’s mind—what had he been doing here? Obviously looking for something, but what? There was no other logical reason, given the state of the room. He had to have been looking for something specific. What?
Grandmere never kept detailed records like Tanty. Maybe this person didn’t know that. Had he been a client? Someone with an ax to grind? No, this didn’t look like petty vandalism. This looked like more of a search. On top of Tanty and Grandmere both falling into comas so suspiciously, this felt ominous. Sinister.
Tanty’s!
If this was connected to the illness somehow, then it stood to reason that Tanty’s shed would be next. Already she’d found things out of order at Tanty’s, just not trashed like this. Would the intruder be back?
Tara ran to the kitchen door, snatched her keys from the hook and jumped into her car. Her fingers fumbled getting the key into the ignition. She turned the engine over and tore out of the driveway. Gravel and dirt rose in a cloud over the vehicle as she sped down the road toward Tanty’s.
The sky shifted from night to predawn. Purple hues streaked the sky to the east. Tara’s heart pounded as she turned into Tanty’s driveway.
Lights blazed inside the workhouse.
Slamming on the brakes, Tara jerked the car into park, raced to the workhouse—and then stopped dead in her tracks.
Bubba Theriot opened the door and stepped outside, gun drawn, his glare intense. He stopped advancing as he caught sight of Tara and holstered his firearm. “What’re you doing here?”
She popped her hands on her hips. “What’re you doing here?”
He glanced down. Spook meandered between his legs and meowed. He locked his stare back on Tara. “Feeding the cat. Now your turn—what’re you doing here?”
“Uh, well, I, um…” Her throat constricted.
Narrowing his eyes, he took her by the elbow. “I told you to stay away from here. I’ll ask one more time—what’re you doing here?”
How dare he manhandle her? She jerked free of his grip and glowered. “I just found my shed trashed, and I thought maybe Tanty’s had been, as well.”
“When?” He withdrew his ever-present notebook and pencil from his front pocket.
“Not even thirty minutes ago. And I saw him.”
“Who?”
“The guy who did it.”
He sighed. “Who was it?”
“I didn’t see his face.”
Bubba’s expression fell. “Then how do you kn—”
She let out a huff. “I was in the bayou and heard someone running. He raced right behind me on his way to his boat. I chased, but he was too far ahead of me by the time I caught up. I couldn’t make out anything about the boat, either.”
“How does this have anything to do with your place being trashed?”
“As soon as the boat was out of sight, I went back to my shed and found it trashed. Like someone was searching for something.”
“So, you really don’t know that the person running through the bayou is the same one who went through your place?”
Could he be any more dense? “Why else would a person be in the bayou at three in the morning?”
“You were.”
Touché. Oh, good-looking or not, the man infuriated her. “I was on my own property. He wasn’t.”
“You’re sure it was a man?”
She went through as much as she recalled, her toe tapping against the ground.
“What made you think my aunt’s place had been rifled through?”
“Well, let’s see. Your aunt goes into a coma, followed by my grandmother, and we still haven’t a clue why. My grandmother was a voodoo priestess, your aunt is one.” She shrugged. “Stands to reason if my place was searched, someone would search Tanty’s. Remember, they didn’t fall ill by themselves.”
“And you have proof of this?”
Why wouldn’t he just listen to her? “Yes.”
His brows shot into his forehead. “You do? What?”
“I already told you. I felt it.”
“Right. Voodoo. How silly of me to forget.” He closed his notebook sharply.
Tara’s irritation rose even further. “I realize you’d rather believe in the religious fantasy than the truth, but there’s no need for you to be so rude about it.”
He shook his head. “I’ll follow you to your place and check it out. File a report.”
She locked her eyes on his. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because I deal in law. Rules. Proof. Evidence. Call me crazy, but I need concrete things like that to solve a case.”
“Then how come you have faith in Jesus? Don’t you have to have faith to be a Christian?” Tara spun on her heel and got back into her car. “Of course you do. But you’ll regret you didn’t have faith in me when I prove I’m right.” She glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring after her. “Yeah, proving you wrong will be sweet.”
She revved the engine. Heading down the winding road home, she spied his headlights in her rearview mirror.
“I think it will be very sweet.”
And as much as the man annoyed her, what bothered her more was accepting the fact that she was attracted to him.
SEVEN
Tara LeBlanc had to be the most frustrating woman on the planet. As he finished up in the work shed, Bubba completed his notes for his report, stuck the digital camera back in the truck’s console and stared at her. Studied her. Took notice of her gestures and body language. Some women bit their nails when nervous, but not Tara. Nope, she flipped that long hair of hers over her shoulder when she became agitated. And talked more with her hands.
Right now she spoke with sarcasm lacing each word she forced out. “I would ask you in for a cup of coffee, but I don’t want to wake Alyssa and Jackson.”
Something about the way she hesitated caught him off guard. “Have you checked on them since you found this?” He gestured toward the mess.
Her tanned face paled. “I didn’t check the house.”
He nodded. “Let’s go check it together.”
“I can do it.” She flew to the kitchen door like water raging over a dam. He shook his head and followed. He was running into this woman too much lately. Frankly, it wasn’t good for his nervous system. He wasn’t sure why, but somehow Tara LeBlanc had worked her way under his skin.
Wait just a minute! She was only CoCo’s little sister, Jacks and Luc’s sister-in-law, right? Nothing more. So why did his pulse race whenever she got near him? He shook his head again. He must be tired. Really tired.
She glanced into the kitchen. “Looks fine. I’ll just tiptoe upstairs and take a quick look-see.”
He felt certain everything was fine in the house, but needed to check. “I’ll go look around your shed.”
He made his way to the side of the shed facing the bayou, shining the flashlight over the wall, roof and grou
nd. Even though dawn had nearly broken through the dusk, artificial light would be the only way to detect a clue. If they could spot one. He didn’t hold out any expectations of finding anything.
The light reflected off something on the ground behind a wilted hydrangea bush pressed close to the building. Bubba donned a pair of latex gloves and gently pushed the limp leaves aside. A brown bottle lay nestled against the bottom of the bush. He took the bottle and read the label in the flashlight’s beam.
Purple Haze beer by Abita Brewing Company.
He set down the flashlight and withdrew an evidence bag from his pocket. He slipped the bottle inside and sealed the envelope just as Tara joined him.
“What’s that?” She nodded to the envelope.
“You drink Purple Haze?”
“What? Are you kidding? I don’t drink.”
“Really?” That was interesting.
“Really. Why, do I look like a lush?”
“Uh, no.” Great. Open mouth, insert size twelve shoe. He should know better.
“Oh, I see. Because I’m not some religious freak, I must be a drunk.” There she went with the hair flipping. “Well, I’m not. Did that whole drinking gig back in high school. Haven’t touched the stuff since.”
Oh, yeah, he remembered. Tara pulled a couple of stunts attributed to underage drinking. He’d been called out to “talk” to her once. She’d been just as enraged then as she was now. How could he have forgotten that?
“Did you find it out here?”
He jerked his attention back to the present. “Yeah. Under your hydrangea. Know anyone around here who drinks Purple Haze?”
“Not that I can think of. Do you think he left it here?” She glanced around the area behind her. “Kind of an odd place to drop a beer bottle, don’t you think?” She faced him and the shed adjacent to them. A large window stood only inches above the top of her head. Her eyes widened.
“We don’t know who it belongs to. Let’s not panic.”
She shook her head. “No. Wait. He couldn’t have stood out here watching me because we’d just gotten home. I only grabbed my bag and boots before I headed into the bayou. Didn’t even turn the lights on inside.”
