“It’s not your fault, Riley,” my mother soothed. “You just took your time. We were worried, but the doctors weren’t.”
“We knew you’d rally,” my dad said. He looked at me the same way he had when I decided I wanted to move to California, worry under a guarded smile. “You feeling OK, now?”
“I doubt she is,” my mother said. “She looks pale.”
“When do you guys fly in?”
“Last night.” Raymond answered. “Sheriff Ayers called us. Said he got our numbers from Reyna and Jimmy. He told us that someone attacked you and to come to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry you got a call like that.”
My mother sat on the edge the bed and held the bags on her lap. Her hand went to my shin and she caressed it, blinking back tears. “You scared us to death.” She wiped at her face with a manicured hand, her sleek pantsuit crumpled.
I tried to smile at her to reassure her, but the ache in my jaw stopped it at a wince.
“I’m fine, Willow.” I pulled myself slowly to a sitting position. “I just didn’t win that round.”
Raymond snorted and my dad smiled, but my mother’s face crumpled into a sob.
“This isn’t funny. What are you doing, Riley? Look what happened.”
Willow…” I felt terrible and didn’t have words.
She hadn’t wanted me to come, told me to let the authorities handle it, and now it seems I proved her right.
“You need to come home, now,” she said and sniffled. “As soon as they let you leave here.”
“Now? After it’s clear that I was right about Randy not acting alone?”
She threw her head back and sighed heavily. “Riley, stop with that now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Raymond shake his head.
My dad merely looked down at his food bag and crinkled it in his hands.
“You can’t be this—,” she breathed. She looked at my dad. “She can’t be this foolhardy.”
He shrugged at her, a helpless look on his face. “She was right, Willow.”
She let out an exasperated moan. “She isn’t a cop, Randal.”
“Well…” he shrugged again.
She turned to me, her sobs replaced by irritation. “You’re making things worse, Riley. You’re a person of interest, now. Let the authorities do this.”
“Law enforcement, Willow, labeled Randy a lunatic. Everyone believes he’s crazy.”
“He blew up a chemical plant, Riles,” Raymond said quietly. “Something was obviously wrong.”
“Nothing was obvious. That’s the point. There’s not a lot of evidence to prove Randy was disturbed, or whatever they called him.”
“I know it’s hard for you to accept. I know you two were especially close, but…” she shrugged. “Sometimes people fail us. Sometimes they make terrible choices.”
I thought about Randy’s letter that I never told them about, his sketchbook and MP3 recordings…the file at Dr. Faulk’s office. There was so much they didn’t know.
“No, there’s evidence. I have proof that—”
“Riley, we’ve seen everything they have,” My father interjected. “You’ve seen what the FBI found. Think about this logically.”
My mother put her hand on his forearm and nodded to me. “Riley, let this go. You can’t give the media any more fuel for—”
“The media?” I put my hand up, stopping her. “This is about Randy, Willow, or has everyone forgotten that?”
“Riley,” My father’s voice stern, made me pause. “How could you think that of us?”
My mother looked stricken, and I hated myself for hurting her more. “I just can’t let this go. Not now,” I whispered. “I wish you could support me on this.”
Raymond sighed, turned to the night table by the hospital bed and pulled a newspaper out of the drawer. He put it on my lap. It was from the New Orleans Times-Picayune, the paper with the widest circulation in Louisiana. I gazed at the story on the front page.
The headline topped a picture of Dauby’s burnt-out shack. New Evidence in Drake Disaster Destroyed.
“The Drake Disaster?” I swallowed back the frustration boiling in my stomach.
The article mentioned my being back in Bayou La Foudre prior to the murder and fire at least two times, but the byline, the name of the article’s author sent my stomach twisting. It was a reporter from my own paper in San Diego, Park Davis. The wire service picked up his article and ran it down here in Louisiana, but the scathing article came from my own camp. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe Bradley, my own boss, would do this. Then again, it didn’t surprise me.
I gathered the paper and handed it back to my brother. I didn’t have words for the helplessness tightening my chest, for the anger at the innuendo. I wondered who spoke to Davis. Who would know about all of this, the time of my arrival; that I was at the crime scene? And was Davis out here covering the story? Why didn’t I know any of this? I had to talk to Bradley.
My mother pointed to the paper in Raymond’s hands.
“I’m supposed to support you in that? Getting your name on the FBI’s suspect list, inviting attacks by crazed robbers or whatever he was?” Her voice pitched up. “No, Riley, you come home before things get worse. Before…before…”
She stood up from my bed abruptly, pacing the space next to the wall, her face turned away from me. I saw her wipe her cheek and my stomach flopped. This was miserable.
Raymond stood with his hands on his hips, let his head drop back, and stared at the ceiling with a sigh. He did that whenever I defied logic, like a big brother upset with his bratty sister.
My dad stood and wrapped an arm around my mother. He shook his head sadly at me. “You rest up, Riles, we’ll go eat, and then come back, OK?”
I nodded, and they left whispering to each other.
Raymond slumped down on the chair next to my bed, and I thought he must be cold out here in his surf t-shirt and faded jeans.
I blinked back the tears burning my eyes and took a quivering breath. Why did this have to be so hard? I turned to my big brother.
He sat on the chair watching me silently.
“You believe me, don’t you?” I asked him.
He sighed, leaned forward and scooted the water cup back towards me. “Drink your water, Riles, you sound like an eighty-year-old chain smoker.”
Something that had bothered me popped into my head. “Raymond, do you know anything about a donation by the Drake Foundation to Tulane?”
He nodded. “Yeah,” he said and cleared his throat. “It’s a scholarship. Some of mom and dad’s supporters pulled it together as a memorial for Randy.”
“What kind of scholarship?”
“Tulane’s science department now offers the R.D. Merit Scholarship to study engineering.”
I reached out and patted Raymond’s rough hand. “That’s…nice. It’s nice to remember him that way, helping someone who needs it.”
Raymond’s face fell and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I’d rather have Randy here instead.”
****
The pain medication must have made me doze off, because I woke up to the nurse fiddling with my IV.
She looked down at me and smiled. She put a finger to her lips and nodded to my left.
I turned to look.
Jake slept on the nearby chair, his right hand clasping mine on the sheet. He snored quietly, his face the most relaxed I’d seen.
My heart fluttered and the machine beeped the paced-up rhythm, sending a smile across the nurse’s face.
“He’s been here since they brought you in. Stepped away to give you and your family privacy, but he’s stayed close.” She finished adjusting the tubing and took a tiny plastic cup with pills off the table next to me. “Need something for the pain? You’re due for some more.”
I thought about the day I’d lost and how I managed to doze off after the upsetting conversation with my family and shook my head.
“Maybe
later,” I whispered. “Did my parents leave?”
She wrinkled her brow. “I’m not sure. Want me to go check?”
“Yes please. I’m worried they’ll stage an intervention and try to haul me out of here on their own.”
“I’ll be back.” She left.
I turned and watched Jake sleep. The steady sound of his breath, his hair brushing his eyes, the feel of his hand around mine all made me feel better.
“Sorry I missed you waking up earlier,” he murmured. He cracked open an eyelid and gave me a crooked grin. “Heard you had a fight three minutes after regaining consciousness.”
“Hey,” I said softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and nodded to the door. “Your brother and parents seem more upset now that you’re awake.”
“That’s because I told them I’m not leaving.” I saw the protest brewing on his face and cut him off. “I’m not leaving, Jake. I don’t turn tail and run.”
“It wouldn’t be running. It would be safe-guarding my sanity.”
“I’m staying.”
Jake leaned forward, my hand still in his, and ran his lips back and forth across my knuckles. He looked like he was thinking of how to say something. He looked like he was brooding. “You almost died, Riley. He almost killed you.”
“Well, he didn’t.”
Jake sat back in his chair, his gaze holding mine. “I’m sorry.”
That caught me off guard. “What? Why?”
“I should have been there. I should have known what was coming.”
“Why, ‘cause you’re psychic?”
“Because of Dauby,” Jake said and his gaze went to the cut on my face. “Because I’m the sheriff.”
I pointed to my face, to the bruises. “Well, all this accomplished was to make me spitting mad.”
“Most people get attacked like that and they give up,” Jake whispered and ran a fingertip along my jaw. “I’m guessing I’m not that lucky.”
“No.” My ribs flared with pain and I hissed.
Jake’s hand went to mine, his face worried. “Riley,” his voice was thick, concerned. “I can’t imagine what I’d—” He stood up so quickly his chair almost toppled over. Walking to the window, he looked out, silent.
The rain tapped a chaotic song on the glass and the occasional gust of wind threw seeds and leaves against it. Some of them stuck, slid down, and floated down into the dark.
I watched Jake, dreading the fight that was sure to come. Instead, he spoke over his shoulder in a soft voice. “Verona yelled at me the other day for being an idiot where you’re concerned.”
I hadn’t expected that. “I don’t think you’ve been an idiot. I think we both just don’t know what we’re doing.”
He smiled at that and nodded slightly.
“She said it was your right to decide if staying here…” He paused, cleared his throat, and turned to look at me. “If staying here with me is worth the risk.”
I blinked at him, caught off guard. I’d been ready for a fight. “I thought you were going to ask me to leave again.”
He shook his head slowly and blew out a breath. “If you’re by my side, then I can be sure you’re safe instead of wondering where you are, or what kind of risks you’re taking.”
“Risks?”
Jake leaned down, rested his hands on the foot of the bed, and cocked an eyebrow. “At the very least, I can be sure you’re not breaking and entering.”
My mouth dropped open. “You know about that?” Heat rushed my cheeks. “I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you…I’m sorry.”
“You tripped a silent alarm. Toughie got the call and radioed me. I told him to let you go, that you wouldn’t take anything.”
“I didn’t,” I said quickly. “But I did find out something weird.”
“I’m sure you did,” Jake said and sat back down on the chair. “You feel like sharing?”
Jake let me search Faulk’s office. As the sheriff, he’d need a warrant, but without permission, or a specific reason to see my brother’s files, it’d be hard to get.
If I went in and took a peek, then that would clear up the question of whether or not it was worth pursuing.
I told him about Randy’s burns, the unknown emergency contact who paid for his treatment, and that the type of burn he’d received was from a chemical.
Jake listened, nodding and rubbing his scruffy jaw every few minutes. When I was done, the look on his face told me he had the same thought I did.
That Randy did it.
“There’s a couple more things,” I whispered. “Unless, the…whoever attacked me took them.”
“More?”
“I took more than a sketchbook from Randy’s hotel room, Jake. I took an MP3 player of his.”
Jake leaned back in his chair, and sighed. “Riley, why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I don’t know.” I felt my stomach tumble with regret. “I didn’t trust that you’d let me see what was on it, I guess. I was going to tell you about it outside of Mr. Sudsy, but…”
Jake winced. “Yeah.” He smiled and shrugged. “So tell me, now.”
I told him about the recording, how it seemed to be Randy and a woman planning something. Talking about targets and referencing times. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, it just seemed so bad that I had to get my mind around it first.”
“You looked like you had something more to say. I just thought it was something else.”
I winced. “Well…”
He groaned, frustration furrowing his brow. “What?”
“I hired a private investigator to look into Randy’s life. The packet, a manila packet, it was in waterproof bag on Kale’s moped.”
“Yeah, he gave it to me.” Jake nodded to the rolling bed table. “It’s there.”
Chewing on my lip, I sat thinking about the attack. “Did my laptop show up?”
“No, Riley, sorry.”
“Jake, the news articles, they have some information in them that isn’t common knowledge.”
“A parish this size, Riley, could be anyone from Dauby’s family to people who saw you at Verona’s Vittles. The leak could be one of the Staties, too. I just don’t know.”
A surge of frustration and fear rushed up and I put my fingers to my mouth to keep my lip from trembling. “Something is going on, Jake.”
“I know,” He said quietly. “Last night, the man in your room wasn’t looking for evidence. He wanted to take you out.”
His words made me suck in my breath. I flashed on the man in the shadows, the pain of fighting, and a shudder rocked through me. I looked at Jake, fear suddenly washing over me, my breath ragged. “Y – You think he’ll come back?”
He took my hand and the look in his eyes made my heart ram in my chest. “It’ll be the last thing he does.” The steel in his voice left no mistake.
Jake had declared war.
22
I packed my clothes into the thin plastic back the nurse gave me, not knowing why they’d saved them to begin with. Cut off me in the emergency room, they were nothing more than blood stained confetti. The image reminded me of that day in Randy’s hotel room, his clothes strewn about the room in tatters, and I felt a well of sadness and anger bubble up. I pulled on the lavender sweater and jeans my mother had left and tied on my sneakers.
Outside, a sullen sky brooded over the cold, windswept parish and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on the verge of something dark.
Jake wheeled me to his squad car despite my protests that I could walk.
Not seeing my family on our way out, I was relieved that I didn’t need to argue with anybody. I wondered where they went.
My mother visited me earlier in the day before the doctor discharged me and seemed to be in great spirits. The abrupt change in her mood was odd, and I felt a rush of nerves quiver my stomach. Yet, being with Jake, finally alone, I put the worry out of my mind.
He helped me into my seat
, slipped behind the steering wheel, and looked at me with a big smile.
“Feel good to be out of there?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s get you home, then.”
I put my hand on Jake’s arm. “Speaking of home…” I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to ask him my next question. “Do you live with Citrine…at the Lightning Bug?” I felt insecure and dumb, but I had to know. How much was Jake’s life entangled with Citrine’s?
Jake’s smile faltered, and he looked down at his hands. “Citrine owns the Lightning Bug, Riley. She was married to my brother and when he…passed.” A sad look crossed his features. “I gave her and Michelle my half. It’s her property, her business. I stayed as a guest that night because I live down the bayou a bit and was exhausted.”
My sigh of relief was obvious, by the look on his face. “I’m sorry…I just thought—”
“I know what you thought, Riley, and that’s my fault. My staying there wasn’t wise. I didn’t see the hurt or confusion it might cause.”
“Oh, I mean, it’s no big deal…” I tried to back pedal, sorry for making him feel bad.
“It is if it made you doubt my intentions or my integrity.” He reached over and kissed my fingers. He smiled, his dark eyes sending a flutter through my chest. “What you think matters, Riley. What you think of me is important.”
I nodded, unable to answer over the knot in my throat. The closer I got to Jake, the more he seemed from another time, another place. Honorable and noble, how could I not have seen this before?
We drove through back roads on the way to the Lightning Bug and I watched the swaying of the huge cypress branches as we passed under them. The trees and plants littered our windshield with debris, and I bit my lip, nervous.
Jake’s low drawl cut through my worried thoughts.
“Don’t get much weather in southern California, do you?”
“Well, we have sunny and really sunny.” I touched the windshield with my fingertips. “This storm is definitely more than I’m used to. It’s not just rain, its…formidable. Like something out to get you.”
“That’s not far off. As a rule, these storms pass without much damage, but this time of year we’re apt to get tropical storms. Those can turn ugly.”
Bayou Blue Page 20
