Showdown in Mudbug

by Jana DeLeon

  Jennifer stared at the wall behind Zach for a moment, then shook her head. “And then I woke up.” She looked directly at Zach. “I tried to remember more. I tried going back to sleep, hoping more would come, but finally I just decided it was my imagination working overtime after that news story.” She bit her lip and looked at Raissa. “What do you think?”

  “I think something in that news story triggered a memory that’s been buried for a long time.”

  “So you think that really happened?”

  “Maybe,” Raissa said, “or it might be something similar, but your recall is fuzzy because you were drugged at the time.”

  Jennifer crossed her arms across her chest. “I wish I knew what they did to me. The doctors said there was no…you know.” She blushed and looked down at her coffee. “But why would someone take me for no reason? And why would they need blood? And if my mind’s confused and it wasn’t blood, then what was it?”

  “I can’t imagine how hard it is for you,” Raissa said. “At least I saw my attacker and can easily identify him. I know why he shot me. To have no answers has got to be hell.”

  “Do you think I’ll remember more?”

  “I don’t know. It’s impossible to know what triggers buried memories. You may have opened the door, and your memory will start unfolding. Or it may be another ten years before it happens again. Or…”

  “Or it may never happen again,” Jennifer finished. “And I’ll never really know what happened to me.”

  “There is another way,” Zach said, more determined than ever to make the kidnapping son of a bitch pay. “If we catch the people who did this, I’ll get everything out of them. I promise you.”

  Jennifer gave him a small smile. “You know, Detective, I believe you’re telling the truth. I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

  When they climbed back in the car, Zach handed Raissa a stack of printouts with DMV information. “You were good in there,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Raissa said. “It’s hard not to feel for her. Knowing what you’re hiding from is hard enough, even for an adult. I can’t imagine living in constant fear of an enemy you don’t know and whose purpose is a mystery.” She flipped through the papers.

  “Anything?”

  “Yeah. There’s a corporation listed on here that owns several of the same make and model—all black. It’s one of Sonny’s companies.”

  Zach blew out a breath, the desire to protect the woman beside him overriding all his other emotions. “If he tracked your car to Mudbug, he knows where you’re staying. What’s he waiting for?”

  Raissa shook her head. “I don’t know, but Sonny never does anything without a reason. How much trouble did you get in over pulling the information?”

  “Let’s just say that what the captain doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “Oh, really? Mr. Anal-retentive Rule Follower was less than forthcoming with the big boss? Might cost you your job, you know?”

  “Damn it, Raissa, there are things you don’t know.”

  Raissa immediately lost her teasing tone.

  “So tell me. We’re in this together.”

  “It’s a long story,” Zach replied.

  “Then give me the CliffsNotes version, and don’t worry about the ending. I’ve probably heard a lot worse.”

  Zach took a breath, not sure how to condense what some considered the biggest screwup in his career. Not sure if he wanted to share something that personal with a woman he barely knew, regardless of how attracted to her he might be.

  “Several years ago, I screwed up on a case. I’m still digging my way out.”

  “What kind of screwup?”

  “There was a guy we had our sights on for killing an eight-year-old girl, and all indications were she was hardly the first. The lab screwed up the chain of evidence and he walked.”

  “Shit. That sucks, but a lab screwup is not your fault.”

  “No, but I leaked who the guy was to the victim’s father.”

  Raissa frowned. “But the father still had the right to file a civil suit, even if you couldn’t make a criminal one. I still don’t see the problem.”

  “I didn’t give him the information for a civil suit. I knew what he would do.”

  “How could you possibly know what someone would do?”

  Zach looked over at her. “He was an exmarine sniper. His wife died a couple of years ago in a car accident and that little girl was the last of any family he had. He had connections in all parts of the world and the training to disappear without a trace.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “They both disappeared—the father and the perp. We never found bodies.”

  Raissa was silent for a couple of seconds. “And you took the heat for telling him. He could have gotten the information anyway, and from the way you’ve described him, he definitely would have been the kind that went looking for it.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not how Internal Affairs saw it, so they put me on notice. From that point forward, I was supposed to do everything by the book. No exceptions.”

  Raissa sighed. “And then you met me. Why are you risking everything, Zach? You barely know me.”

  “I know you’re a tough, strong, intelligent woman who has sacrificed a third of her life to do the right thing. I know there’s a little girl missing who might end up a recluse like the one we just left if I can’t get some answers. I know this could happen again if we don’t catch the guy now.” He paused for a minute and took a breath. “I know I have to sleep at night, and sometimes things aren’t black-and-white.”

  Raissa placed one hand on his thigh. “In our line of work, things are rarely black-and-white.”

  “So how do you keep from crossing the line?”

  Raissa shook her head and stared out the window. “I don’t think some of us can.”

  Maryse looked up from her laptop as the bells above Sabine’s shop door jangled, then frowned when she saw the man standing there, stiff as a board, clad in a business suit, and still wearing his sunglasses inside. Definitely not a customer. She grabbed Helena’s box of MoonPies and tossed them into the break room, then motioned for Helena to make herself scarce. “Welcome to Read ’Em and Reap,” Maryse said as she walked over to the man. “Can I help you find something?”

  The stiff pulled a pad of paper from his pocket and glanced at it for a second. “Are you Sabine LaVeche?”

  “No. I’m Maryse, but I’ll be happy to help you if you’d tell me what you’re looking for.”

  The stiff frowned. “I’m looking for Sabine LaVeche.”

  “I’m sorry, Sabine isn’t available.”

  “I need to speak with her—now. Tell me where she is.”

  Maryse bristled. “If you’d give me your name, I’m happy to tell her you stopped by, but there’s no way in hell I’m giving out her personal information.”

  Maryse saw his jaw clench and his face flush a bit. She stared him directly in the eyes until he finally understood that she wasn’t intimidated now and wasn’t going to be later. Finally, he gave her a disgusted look and pulled his wallet from his pants pocket, then flipped it open to show her his FBI identification.

  She barely managed to hide her utter relief that the stiff was merely a fed and not one of the Hebert clan. “Agent Fields?” Maryse gave him her best confused expression. “Why in the world would the FBI want to talk to Sabine?”

  “That’s confidential. Can you tell me where to find her?”

  “She’s in the Bahamas on her honeymoon. There’s no way to get in touch with her.”

  Agent Fields blew out a breath of frustration. “When is she returning?”

  “In three days.”

  “And when did she leave?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “I’m looking for a friend of hers, a Raissa Bordeaux. Do you know Ms. Bordeaux?”

  “Yes.” It was all Maryse could do to hold in a smile. Agent Fields was so frustrated with her clipped answers, his expre
ssion looked pained.

  “Do you know where I might find her?”

  Maryse gave him her wide-eyed innocent look. “At her store in New Orleans?”

  Agent Fields threw up his hands. “Obviously, if Ms. Bordeaux was at her store, I wouldn’t be looking for her here.”

  Maryse shrugged. “Then I can’t help you. I have no idea where she is.” At that very moment, the statement was entirely true.

  Agent Fields pulled a card from his pocket and shoved it at her. “If you see her, please give me a call. It’s a matter of utmost urgency.” Agent Fields spun around and exited the shop.

  “What an ass,” Helena said.

  Maryse nodded. “A matter of utmost urgency? Is that even English?”

  “Pompous, stick-up-your-ass English. I’m not clear on the grammar part, though.”

  Maryse walked to the front window and watched as Agent Fields got into a tan Honda Accord, adjusted his mirrors, checked his blind spot, then pulled onto Main Street and headed out of Mudbug. “That guy is wound way too tight.” She was just about to turn from the window when a glint of sunlight flashed in her eyes. She looked farther down the street to see where the reflection had come from and saw a black sedan with dark tinted windows parked at the far end of Main Street.

  “Helena,” Maryse said and waved at the ghost. “Come look at this car. Is that the car that ran you and Raissa off the road this morning?”

  Helena peered out the window. “It looks like it, but then all I know is it was a black Cadillac. Seems like the front would be damaged if it was the one that hit us, though.”

  “Yeah,” Maryse said, “but when Raissa called earlier, she said Sonny had several of that make and model, right?”

  “Four is what you said, I think.”

  Maryse backed away from the window. “I need you to do something.”

  Helena gave her a wary look. “You? You hate it when I ‘do something.’ ”

  Maryse glanced back outside and walked to the cash register before she could change her mind. “I know, but this is different. We have to find out who the guy in the car is. If I walk down there, he’ll leave. Well, best case, he’ll leave.”

  “Worst case, he’ll shoot you.”

  “There is also that.” Maryse pulled a disposable camera from beneath the cash register and handed it to Helena. “Which is why I’m not the one who’s going to walk down there.”

  Helena stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You want me to take a picture of him? Won’t that be a little noticeable?”

  “Yeah, for a minute, maybe. Hide the camera in your pocket until you get to the car. I’m still working on this ghost-logic stuff, but that should keep it fairly concealed. If you can’t get a clear shot of them through the driver’s window, then take a picture through the front windshield.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to stand in front of a killer’s car and take a picture.”

  “All he’ll see is the camera. You take the picture, and by the time he jumps out of the car, assuming he even does, it will be too late. You tuck the camera in your pocket and stroll back to the store.”

  Helena shrugged. “What the hell. Probably be more interesting than watching you type.” She slipped the camera into her pocket and walked through the wall of the shop and onto the sidewalk.

  Maryse moved behind a display of colored rocks so she had a clear view of the street without the driver seeing her in the storefront window. She peered over the top of the display and watched as Helena strolled down the sidewalk, then crossed the street to the black Cadillac. She bent over and peered into the driver’s-side window, but apparently the tint was too dark for her to get a good picture, so she moved to the front of the car. Maryse sucked in a breath and clutched the top of the display.

  This is for Raissa, God. If you could just help Helena get it right this one time.

  Helena stood in front of the car, studying the windshield. She looked behind her, then moved one step to the right, apparently trying to cut out the glare. She glanced back at the store and gave Maryse a thumbs-up. Maryse tightened her grip on the display. Please God. Please God. Please God.

  Helena pulled the camera out of her pocket, but it got stuck on the way out and flipped through the air, seemingly in slow motion, then landed directly in the middle of the hood of the car. Helena froze for a moment, then scrambled onto the hood and grabbed the camera. The car rocked with her weight, and Maryse could see frantic, shadowy movement inside. Helena kneeled on the hood and directed the camera at the driver’s seat as the car roared to life and lurched in reverse.

  “Oh, no!” Maryse gasped as Helena rolled off the hood of the car and into the street. She lay there for a second, completely still, and Maryse was certain she had somehow died again. Then she was up and running.

  Clutching the camera in one hand held high above her head.

  Maryse felt the blood drain from her face and she had to lean against the display for support. The display gave way, and Maryse and a million colored rocks spilled onto the floor of the store. She managed to pull herself up on her knees and peer outside, but the situation was dire. Helena was running as fast as she could, the camera still in plain sight. The car had stopped backing up and was now coming down the street after the floating camera.

  Maryse managed to crawl to the front door of the shop and open the door a crack. Surely, the driver wouldn’t hear her yell over the car engine. “Hide the camera,” she yelled as loudly as she could, then slammed the door shut, rose from the floor, and peeked between the miniblinds on the door.

  Helena stopped dead in her tracks, which wasn’t exactly smart. The car came to a screeching halt, but not before it bumped Helena and sent her rolling down the street.

  Dazed, Helena jumped up from the ground and tucked the camera in her pocket just as the car door opened. Maryse strained to see the driver, but he had his back to her as he scanned the street for the missing camera. Helena staggered down the street to the shop. The driver took one final look in the street, then jumped in his car and tore out of town.

  Maryse waited until the car had turned at the far end of Main Street, then opened the door of the shop to allow Helena in. “Are you all right?”

  Helena leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, wheezing. “I guess so. I mean, what could happen to me, right? I’m glad you opened the door. I don’t know if I could concentrate enough to walk through a wall right now.” Helena reached into her pants and pulled the camera out. “I don’t think it got damaged when I fell, or when the car hit me, or when I fell again.”

  Maryse took the camera and studied Helena. “You know, I hate to say this, but you’re white as a ghost. I know it sounds stupid, but normally you have color.”

  “Of course I’m white. That scared the shit out of me.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair, you still feeling fear when there’s really nothing that can hurt you. Kinda a rip, if you ask me.”

  “Tell me about it.” Helena looked behind Maryse at the mess on the floor. “What happened?”

  “Scared the shit out of me, too.” Maryse looked at the mess and sighed. “I guess I better call Raissa.”

  “Think this will scare her?”

  “No. And that’s what worries me the most.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Raissa snapped her phone shut and stared out the windshield of Zach’s car as they drove down the highway back to New Orleans. Zach looked over at her, and Raissa knew he was waiting to hear what was said in the phone call, but she wasn’t sure how to relay the information without his going ballistic. And then there was the whole Helena angle. He definitely wasn’t ready for Helena. No one was.

  “Was that Maryse?” he asked finally.

  “Yeah. Fields showed up at Sabine’s shop earlier.”

  “Was there a problem?”

  “Not really,” Raissa said. “Maryse deflected him by saying Sabine was out of the country. He left his card. My guess is, Fields is done with Mudbug.
”

  “So what’s the problem? And don’t even try to say there’s not one. I saw the expression on your face, and that conversation was far too long to just be chatting about Fields.”

  Raissa rolled the story Maryse had told her around in her mind. How the hell was she supposed to explain it to Zach when a key component was a photo-snapping ghost? Finally, she blew out a breath and told him about the black car at the end of the street.

  “Did Maryse get a look at the driver?” Zach asked.

  “No, but she might have a photo.”

  Zach raised his eyebrows and Raissa shook her head. “It’s a long, complicated story going back months, and I’d rather explain the details when I can show you myself. Maryse is on her way to a drugstore in New Orleans right now to get the film developed. One of those one-hour joints, so she can meet us somewhere in the city or back in Mudbug.”

  “What are you going to do about your car?”

  “Nothing, right now. It’s obviously not safe to drive.” She waved her cell phone. “I’m glad I maintained an untraceable cell phone, or they’d likely be tracking me that way, too.”

  Zach shook his head. “This is all a bit much. I made detective five years ago, and I’ve never seen such cloak-and-dagger stuff in my life. I don’t know how you’ve lived this way for so long. Hell, my captain’s on the verge of a stroke and he’s not even facing an opponent like Sonny Hebert.” Zach sighed. “But in his defense, this case could cost him his job if it goes wrong.”

  Raissa looked over at Zach. “What do you mean? I know there’s pressure on the department because it’s the mayor’s granddaughter, but that’s status quo for this sort of situation.”

  “Not exactly.” Zach hesitated for a moment, then decided that given Raissa’s deductive skills, she might be able to help. He told her about his talk with the captain that morning and his subsequent visit with the Francos.

  Raissa listened to the story, her eyes widening until he got to the part about talking to Peter Franco, and then she frowned and shook her head.