The Sacrifice

by Peg Brantley

  “I did. I was hoping to learn a little bit more about Cade LeBlanc. You know her?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m sorry. My name is Mex Anderson.” He reached across the bar and shook the old hippie’s hand.

  “I know.”

  “And you are?”

  “Folk just call me Boudreaux.”

  * * * Cade hated this part of her job. She’d spent the last hour with people suffering a devastating loss. A month ago she’d been asked by this family to intervene and provide exit counseling for their son. The problem was, they should have called her three months ago. Stephen had been one of six others who committed suicide. It happened two days after the family had asked for her help. She knew from personal experience that no amount of counseling would come close to assuaging their guilt. Still, she’d had to try.

  The father had remained silent during every session they’d had together, crouched into his own world of suffering and self-blame. The mother,

  inconsolable at first, had finally begun to respond to her youngest daughter who begged her to think about the rest of her family. After an hour Cade felt

  comfortable enough to leave, satisfied the required grief that led to healing had begun, at least with the mother and other children. She couldn’t be sure about the father.

  Cade remembered her younger sister, Delphine, and felt the sadness weigh her down. Only so far though. The raw power of her determination to make a difference, thanks in part to her ancestors, always stopped her from toppling into the abyss.

  The strength and spirit of all of the women in Acadia LeBlanc’s lineage filled her, forcing her to move forward. Take a step. And then another. She could not deny her bloodline, nor did she want to.

  She put today’s heartache behind her as she prepared to meet with Mex Anderson at Boudreaux’s. She’d give anything to put this meeting off. She was exhausted. Drained. Wondering if she had anything left to give.

  There was more than her simply experiencing a bad day. The man troubled her. Not only the situation, which of course was critical, but the man himself. She sensed a lot of the same darkness that had engulfed

  Delphine. Cade struggled to understand why her sister never found the strength to climb out of the shadows.

  While the man with the odd name both intrigued her mentally and appealed to her physically, she felt a wall go up as she registered the complications he lived with. She didn’t need any more

  “complicated” in her life. She courted enough on her own.

  Could she put their meeting off? Even for a few hours? That’s exactly what she wanted to do. Time to regroup and refresh. Then she thought of the young girl whose life was very possibly on the line. The seriousness of the Santeria group she’d likely gotten involved with, and the exponential threat of the drug cartel connection.

  While Cade had no children of her own, every parent’s child she sought to save became hers in some way. She’d lost one. She didn’t intend to lose another.

  Her phone buzzed. Because she was driving she didn’t try to read who the caller was. “LeBlanc.”

  “I’m hearing shit you should know about.”

  It was one of her Santeria

  connections. “What kind of shit?”

  “Something about a sacrifice so that one drug cartel can gain victory over another.”

  “Sacrifice? A little girl?”

  “A very special little girl. One who, in the minds of the people offering her up, would ensure they would come out on top. At the very least, they would send a message. And it’s going to happen soon.”

  Shit. “Where did you get this?”

  “Can’t say. But I believe it.”

  So did she.

  Cade hit the disconnect button and immediately punched two more buttons. “Is he there?”

  Boudreaux spoke with his gentle Bayou drawl, “Yeah, ma chere, he’s sitting in front of me now, choking down a Cajun martini.”

  “Do not let him leave. I don’t care what happens. He and I need to—”

  “Maybe you and he need to do a lot of things, things you’re not ready to talk about, but he’s not going anywhere. There is no need.”

  “Okay. No more of your martinis. Promise? I need him to focus.”

  “He’s had a bad day and one of my martinis is not likely to penetrate or create a problem. For you though, I will stop. A late dinner?”

  “Yes, please. Nothing heavy. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Cade clicked off the call. Though not especially religious, she was spiritual. Hell, how could she be anything else in her line of work? So she shot up a prayer.

  Keep my strength coming. My mission is not complete. I need to help this pour soul from Colorado save the life of Dia Vega Arroyo. Nothing else matters. Whatever transpires between Mex Anderson and me later is for later, and as long as it doesn’t impact my future missions, I’m good with

  whatever happens.

  She crossed herself in a totally non-religious way and continued to the restaurant. She thought about how tired she was but said, “Screw this. I’ve got work to do.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Mex looked at the man who earlier he’d thought of as the bartender and smiled. “Boudreaux. I’m sort of leaping to a conclusion here, but are you the owner of this establishment?”

  “That would be correct. If you have any complaints about the food or the service, I’m your man. If you’re a creditor I’ll need to have my accountant contact you. Tomorrow, I promise, if the storm isn’t on us.” He smiled.

  “What storm?” Mex thought about the weather map he’d seen flash on the television screen.

  “Ah, just some silly little rainmaker trying to find some muscle.”

  Mex nodded.

  “So I’m guessing you’re a

  longtime friend of Cade’s?”

  “Yep.”

  “And probably not willing to share any of her secrets?”

  Boudreaux nodded, then winked at Mex. “Not unless I think it’s in her best interest. She’s one woman whose bad side I never want to find myself

  spending time with.”

  “Can you give me a clue to the best way to deal with her? You know, on a personal level?”

  “Deal with her? Are you under some kind of voodoo spell? You respect her. You establish trust.” Boudreaux tossed a towel over his shoulder. “I don’t know you from Adam, but I’ll tell you this, you don’t ever want to deal with Cade LeBlanc. She’s got a bite quicker than a snake and a memory longer than an elephant.”

  “But she has a story, right? Some reason that makes her do what she does? More than what’s been made public, I mean.”

  “She do.”

  “And?”

  “Her story is hers to tell. Not mine.”

  Little Ray put down his empty martini glass and moved to the entrance door just as Cade pushed through.

  Boudreaux began to make another martini. “You look like hell.”

  “Always the charmer. Give me some home brew. I don’t want to wait for a martini.”

  The hippie bartender/owner/chef pulled a cork out of a long neck bottle and handed it over.

  “Bad day?” Mex asked.

  “You could say that.” Cade took a long pull on the beer then rolled her shoulders.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Nope.” She took another swig, her bottle less than half-full, and

  signaled Boudreaux. He uncorked another home brew, she grabbed it and walked through the darkened restaurant to her table, a beer in each hand.

  Mex sent a questioning look toward the man who knew her best and mouthed, is she okay? The man behind the bar shrugged, then nodded.

  Apparently this had happened before.

  After procuring a second Cajun martini—a man-to-man promise with Boudreaux that the martini would remain between them—he trailed Cade to the table with one of the best views in the place. A less exhausted Cade would notice the second drink. Mex felt safe, b
ut he hoped that Boudreaux would get them some food faster rather than slower. He wondered that he’d never seen Cade slip the man either cash or a credit card. Maybe he should offer to pay something.

  “So you were after Luis Alvarez today?” Cade’s gaze never left him as he settled into a chair.

  Mex nodded. “He’s our best lead to Dia. I don’t know for sure it was him, but he’s both Santeria and cartel

  connected, and he’s the boyfriend of the nanny.”

  “I dug up some information that could be useful. I was about to tell your partner when our communication sort of broke down.”

  “I heard. He extends his

  apologies, by the way.”

  “We were both tired and

  stressed.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “A family member of Luis Alvarez has a home in Pearl River. It’s just past Slidell, right on the edge of Honey Island Swamp.”

  Mex felt a stab of disappointment. Luis could be here for no other reason than to visit family, if he was here at all. “We need to go there and interview whoever is living there. This could be where they’re holding Dia.”

  “I know you want to get up on your white horse and rescue the damsel in distress, but we can’t go in guns blazing.”

  “Then we’ll question the

  neighbors first.”

  “Not a good idea. These old neighborhoods are filled with old friends who are suspicious of any strangers asking questions, even informally. Since everyone has secrets, well… our presence wouldn’t be secret very long.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I have an idea. Did you bring a suit?”

  “No. I’m not even sure I own one.”

  “Well, you need to get one. You can donate it later if you want.”

  “I’m not wearing a damn suit.”

  “You will when you hear my plan.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The next morning Mex selected a table where he could watch people enter the restaurant while he waited for Cade. He didn’t want any surprises. Aidan Gill for Men didn’t open until ten, so they would eat breakfast first. He ordered coffee and spread the cloth napkin on his lap.

  A damn suit. The last time he’d worn a suit was at the funerals. The coffee came, hot and strong, and he thanked the waiter. The place was busy. Guests were engaged in conversation at almost all of the tables. It seemed to Mex that all people did in New Orleans was eat. Or maybe it was just him.

  He looked at his watch. Although she wasn’t late, he’d been waiting for what, five minutes now. Cade hadn’t given him the address of the house in Pearl River or he’d consider chucking this idea of hers and getting his butt over there to find Dia by himself. If she was even there. This whole suit thing was—

  Oh my God. He stood, placing his napkin on the table. Walking in his direction was not the same woman he’d been meeting with. That woman was all casual clothes and flowing hair. This one wore a form fitting, if severe, navy blue suit with a crisp white blouse opened low enough to show some nice cleavage. His gaze traveled from her tied-back hair, wavered a little on her neckline, then followed shapely legs down to a pair of sensible black pumps. If she hadn’t let loose her deep-throated laugh he would have wondered if this really was Acadia LeBlanc.

  “Do you approve?” Her eyes glittered at his dropped-jaw expression.

  Mex shut his mouth and cleared his throat. “Actually, my preference is your jeans and T-shirt look, but you do clean up nice.”

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  He pulled a chair out for her and gently eased her to the table.

  “You have good manners.”

  “Thanks to my mother.”

  Cade laughed again, low and bold. “Although I think it’s thanks to these horrid nylons, I will be polite and give my thanks to your maman.”

  Mex warmed. He couldn’t

  remember the last time a woman had made him smile this deep, this real. “My maman, if she were here, would take one look at your legs and nod in

  complete understanding.”

  “Why Mex Anderson, I do detect a compliment.”

  “With a little luck, Ms. LeBlanc, we’ll be able to explore where this easily detectible compliment might lead. But in the meantime we have a job to do.”

  “Right. But before we proceed with our job, I could use some protein.”

  “Easily done.”

  * * They were at Aidan Gill’s a little after ten. A quick twenty minutes later, Mex was stuffing his original clothes in elegant Aidan Gill bags and into the backseat of his rented SUV. He resisted the impulse to loosen his new tie. Nothing he wore felt quite right, but the tie was the worst. He felt less and less confident about this plan. What kind of fool was he?

  A few minutes earlier, Cade had looked at him with wide eyes when he emerged from the changing room. Interested? He couldn’t tell for sure. But she was definitely impressed.

  “You want to see me in a suit again it will be at my funeral. And only then if someone who either hates me or doesn’t know me decides what I should wear.”

  Cade settled into the passenger side. When Mex climbed in she said, “We need to make one stop along the way.”

  “Where and for how long?” The only reason Mex wasn’t planning on speeding was he didn’t want to waste the time it would take to get a ticket.

  “There’s a little motel just this side of Slidell. I’ll need about three minutes. That work for you, cowboy?”

  Cade gave him the address in Pearl River and he put it into the GPS. It had taken awhile, but he’d finally come to trust these things as long as his destination wasn’t too remote. For remote he wanted a personal

  conversation with someone who knew the area and the landmarks.

  They drove in silence for a while. “You ever listen to Zydeco?” Cade asked.

  “Once again I wonder what

  country I’m in. Zyda-who?”

  Cade laughed and Mex felt an

  unexpected surge of pleasure. He loved

  being the reason for that laugh.

  “Zydeco is a type of Cajun dance

  music. It combines traditional Cajun

  style, R&B and African blues.” Cade

  reached to the radio and began pushing

  search buttons. “Here. Listen.” She

  turned the volume up a little.

  After a minute, Mex nodded.

  “Sounds like there’s a little Tejano in

  there as well.”

  “Tejano? Now who’s no longer

  speaking English?”

  “Tejano is kind of a modern TexMex mixture with a little blues of its

  own. And now that I hear some of your

  Zydeco, I’m feeling a little Tejano

  influence in there too.”

  Cade smiled and sat back. She

  looked comfortable. They were going to

  pretend to be something they weren’t and

  she looked like they were out for a

  Sunday drive without a care in the

  world. Mex’s estimation of her

  continued its steady climb.

  “There. Off to the right. That’s the

  motel.”

  Mex pulled into the almost empty

  parking lot. “Want me to go in with

  you?”

  “No need. I’m in and out. And

  because I’m starting to like you, I’ll

  make it less than three minutes so you

  can keep breathing.”

  “What’s going to take less than

  three minutes?”

  “You’ll see.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Sedona opened her eyes to a shuttered room and closed them again. She hadn’t remembered VV as a volatile little boy but he’d clearly grown into an

  unpredictable and dangerous young man. That’s what the power and money of his father’s drug cartel had done for his son. What a legacy.

>   Teo, where are you? Do you know I’m gone? Do you care? Are you close to finding Dia? Did you say yes before or after they took me? Do you love me?

  In the next moment she

  acknowledged her bitterness toward her brother. While he paid all of her

  expenses and saw to it she wanted for nothing, his money, and the very support he provided her, tied her to him in ways she never anticipated.

  His money.

  Her brother had gone to school at San Diego State University. Some fellow student of his had asked Teo for five hundred dollars to start up some silly internet company. He’d just sold his car to avoid needing a part-time job during the school year, so he had the money, and Teo’s friend was very persuasive. He’d cashed in right before the murders that changed their lives forever. From then on, Teo’s investment success would make Warren Buffet proud. Her brother had planned on building the home he lived in now, but he hadn’t planned on doing it alone.

  Sedona had no idea how much Teo was worth, but in her opinion he could be doing so much more with it. Instead he gave too much away, helping people who could help themselves if only they’d get off their butts and get jobs. Or better paying jobs. Then she considered what her life was like thanks to her brother and cut that line of thought off, but the thoughts wouldn’t go away.

  She didn’t need to work, Teo paid for everything. It bothered her enough that she’d held a series of part-time jobs over the years since she’d been in Aspen Falls, but none of them for long. In Mexico it was different. Well, mostly in Monterrey. She’d been treated like a queen in the city and it had felt right.

  Lying in the semi-dark room, she thought about Agua Prieta and her parents. Both of them had been mowed down with machine gun fire while going about a normal day. Her mother had been so lovely. A Mexican woman who stood taller than most. In her youth her full head of wavy black hair had reached her waist. Her mother had also been educated, an unusual thing for a Mexican girl in those days, at least in their tiny town.

  And her father. Tall and smiling. That’s how she’d always remember him. The American man who’d fallen in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. His life was perfect. Wait. No. The image of him when she’d caused them some trouble filtered through. Not anger. Sadness. Deep, deep sadness.