Between Dusk and Dawn

by Lynn Emery

  “That turned out to be a bust,” Chase said. “At least we get a nice view of the mighty Mississippi River. Maybe we would have more luck at one of the riverboat casinos.” He pointed toward the wide expanse of water as they crossed the bridge taking them away from Baton Rouge.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “C’mon, with my skills at the black jack table and your psychic tips we could get rich,” Chase joked.

  LaShaun reached over and turned down the radio playing lively country music. “No, I meant our visit might not have been pointless. Manny was giving me clues. I’m sure of it, but the question is why?”

  “Tell me what really happened, LaShaun.” Chase glanced at her sideways then back at the highway ahead.

  “I’ve never had somebody actually connect with me and show me an entire scene. It was like watching a DVD.” LaShaun’s hands started to shake. She clasped them together to stop the unpleasant sensation.

  “Of what, baby?”

  “A murder,” LaShaun said in a quiet voice that did not betray how sick recalling the vision made her.

  “My God.” Chase reached out and put a large hand over hers before pulling away again. After a few moments of silence he said, “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “No, I need to get this out of my head. Telling you will help. For most of my life I’ve only had one person to confide in. My grandmother always told me that our ‘gift’ meant that we would take in a lot of negative energy, see things that would drive many people insane. Sharing it with someone who cares, who we can trust, lightens the burden.”

  “Your grandmother left me that ring and a note with just one sentence. The note said, ‘Take care of my girl, but I already know you will’,” Chase said softly.

  LaShaun glanced down at engagement ring on her finger. The sunlight caused the ametrine gemstone to catch fire with a kaleidoscope of colors. LaShaun whispered, “Merci, grandmèr.”

  “So it was bad, seeing this vision.” Chase gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

  “Horrible. But the thing is I couldn’t distinguish if Manny was the killer or not, and he wasn’t alone. The whole thing looked like a wild party that went way too far. Wait, that’s wrong.” LaShaun felt a sharp stab go through her. “Killing the woman was the high point of this party. Everybody knew she would die, except her.”

  “Willie Dupuis talked about this gang. You think these are the same people?” Chase switched to the slow lane to allow other vehicles to pass.

  “There is a core group, maybe even an alpha leader. They pick up members now and then, some drop out and drift away to other groups. All of them tend to be transient.” LaShaun closed her eyes to focus and then opened them again after a second or so.

  “Street people into drugs, freaky scenes and willing to do just about anything for a thrill,” Chase said.

  “Right, right. But they choose their victims carefully.” LaShaun squinted, but not because of the bright daylight.

  “They made two mistakes though. They chose one victim from a prominent and wealthy family,” Chase replied.

  “Yes, but they didn’t know that. She had mental problems and tended to live on the street. When she ran off from her family, she looked like any other homeless person.” LaShaun shrugged when Chase looked at her in surprise. “Miss Clo kept a file and did her own research.”

  “I swear we need to put that little old lady on the payroll,” Chase retorted.

  “Over M.J.’s cold lifeless body,” LaShaun replied. “What was the second mistake?”

  “This group didn’t know just how much Manny would enjoy killing. When bodies pile up too close together in time and space someone’s going to notice. The police are only dumb in the movies.” Chase frowned at the line of traffic ahead.

  “Yeah.” LaShaun sat silent.

  Chase broke into her thoughts finally after ten minutes ticked by. “Are you going to tell me what you saw back there?”

  “I had flashes of them running around woods and enjoying the hell out of themselves. They got to a clearing and...” LaShaun swallowed hard. “There was a woman on the ground. One of the males had sex with her. The woman wasn’t scared at first. It was like a crazy partner swapping gathering with voyeurism as part of the cheap thrill. “

  “They stood around and watched. Damn.”

  LaShaun took in deep breaths and exhaled before going on. “Then the guy having sex with the victim started attacking her, during the act. The woman freaked out, but... the alpha took the first turn mauling her and then the rest of the pack joined in.”

  “Sweet heaven,” Chase whispered and squeezed her shoulder again. “You said pack. You’re not saying...”

  “Yes, a pack of rougarous. Or at least they believe that’s what they are.” LaShaun squinted into the bright sunshine reflecting from the gray pavement and put on her sunglasses. Another few minutes of silence passed.

  “Well, that’s refreshing,” Chase quipped.

  “What?” LaShaun snapped out of her deep thoughts of sadomasochism and murder.

  “That you think these scum balls have taken role playing too far. I’d rather face a bunch of delusional devil worshippers than real werewolves any day. I can’t believe I just said that.” Chase shook his head and sighed. “I’ve seen a lot of stuff, but nobody could have convinced me that being home would freak me out more than being in Afghanistan.”

  “How bad was it?” LaShaun glanced at him and saw his jaw tighten.

  “Bad enough. Being a target 24-7 was no fun. Neither was raining body parts after IEDs went off,” Chase said quietly. Then he looked at her briefly before staring ahead again. “Listen, don’t be offended because I don’t talk about my time in the Army. It’s not about trust or anything. It’s just...”

  “If talking about the war bothers you then don’t,” LaShaun put in quickly. She moved closer to him on the seat and put a hand on his thigh.

  “Thanks, baby. I’ve been out eight years, and I’m proud of the job I did. But I’m mighty glad to be home.” Chase sighed. “I’m going to be interviewed on a local channel with the other candidate this Friday. So I expect my military service will come up. I don’t want to be made out some kinda hero.”

  You’ll do just fine. Say exactly that,” LaShaun grinned. “And you’ll sound like the honorable, strong and honest man who should be elected.”

  Chase laughed. “I should hire you as my campaign manager.”

  “Are you kidding? Any decent political advisor would tell you to dump me fast,” LaShaun retorted. “In fact, I’d have to agree.”

  “Not going to happen, end of discussion. I’m surprised my opponent has taken any swipes at us.” Chase shrugged.

  “Can it be that the good folks of Vermillion Parish have become more open to diversity? Shh, I think angels are singing the hallelujah chorus,” LaShaun said and laughed.

  “The fact is a lot of the older generation has died out, so not as many people left to bring up your past.”

  “More than enough to remember and cause trouble, trust me,” LaShaun replied.

  “So far the campaign has been focused on crime and qualifications, which is how it should be.” Chase nodded.

  “Yeah, and at least we’ve kept the Ghost Team USA from finding out about Willie and Manny,” LaShaun said.

  “Me and M.J. are working hard to keep it that way.” Chase cleared his throat. “Enough about werewolves and serial killers. Let’s talk about something really scary.”

  “What?” LaShaun grinned and nudged him playfully.

  “Umm, my parents invited us to have lunch at their house this Sunday.” Chase glanced at LaShaun sideways. The air between them turned heavy with anticipation.

  “Oh,” was all LaShaun could manage after a few seconds.

  With everything on her mind, the last thing she’d thought about was facing his family. She looked at the ring on her finger. Of course he wanted her to meet his parents. They were engaged. She couldn’t expect Chase to
leave them out of such an important part of his life for long.

  “Sounds good,” LaShaun said finally.

  “Really? I know it came up kind of sudden, but actually they’ve been asking about you for a while now. I haven’t told them about the ring just yet. This is going to be a good time for the family to...”

  “Whoa, whoa, the family? You said we’d be having lunch with your parents.” LaShaun’s stomach tightened.

  “It’s kind of a tradition that my parents have a family lunch once a month. Usually we get together on the fourth Sunday after everybody goes to early mass. It’s not this horde of people, hon. My two sisters, their husbands and kids and my three brothers come from Lafayette with their families. That’s it.”

  “Oh, sounds like a real tiny gathering.” LaShaun imagined a sea of eyeballs tracking her every move.

  “Listen, to me; If I thought for one minute there would be some kind of ambush or judgments of you I’d have said no way.” Chase’s expression turned serious. “I love my family, don’t get me wrong. But in some ways all I’ve seen in the Army and as a cop... I don’t know. I had a hard time relating to them when I got home. And I can’t talk to them about work.”

  “I think I understand,” LaShaun said.

  Chase gazed off without speaking for a few moments. “My mama says that traveling the world, the war and seeing the worse side of people all the time as a sheriff changed me. She’s right, and I think she’s not sure it was a good change either. Neither am I sometimes.”

  LaShaun knew that Chase had dark moments in the past. He didn’t choose to stay in the old family home for sentimental reasons only. His grandparents’ house sat several miles from the nearest neighbor. One of his sisters had lived there for a year or so after getting married, but moved to Lafayette when they had their first baby. She didn’t want to be so isolated from other young families. The seclusion suited Chase. LaShaun also knew his parents worried about him.

  “No, there is no darkness in your soul, Chase Broussard,” LaShaun replied with tenderness. “

  Chase’s somber expression eased a little. “Is that the psychic talking?”

  “That’s the woman who has gotten to know you talking, cher.” LaShaun smiled at him. “So, I better start planning what I’m going to wear.”

  “Tell you what; I’ll explain to the folks that we should start out with just the four of us. We can plan the big meet the family event later. Better?”

  “Thanks, Chase,” LaShaun said, unable to hide the relief she felt. “I think that would suit me just fine.”

  Chase smiled. After a few seconds he whistled a tune, then broke into a popular song in Cajun French. His deep rich voice washed over her like a soothing balm. Yet LaShaun felt sadness pushing through as she pictured the faces of his family turned to her.

  *****

  Friday morning the temperature had dipped to forty degrees, but the sky was a brilliant blue. LaShaun drove down Black Bayou Road just outside of town to find more answers. A mile down the blacktop road she reached her destination. Not many cars were in the parking lot, which is why she’d come early on a weekday. She had her pick of spaces. After parking LaShaun got out, but stood studying a few minutes before she went inside.

  The smell hit LaShaun’s nostrils as she went through the glass doors of the Shady Moss Nursing Care Home; a stale odor of dirty mop bucket water mixed with a faint whiff of urine. The wide central hallway looked cheery enough with pastel landscape prints on the walls. A brass plaque announced they were from a generous donation by a local artist. A sandwich style board welcomed visitors, and also listed social events like bingo and Bible study groups. The main reception area was brightly lit. The decor struggled against any suggestions that Shady Moss was a place of despair. Except for the smell, and a group of sad, sleepy looking residents in wheelchairs lined up against one wall. Two of them drooled. Another woman with short gray and blonde hair waved gaily, smiling at LaShaun. She seemed eager to claim any visitor as her own.

  “Hi,” the woman lisped.

  “Hello. How are you today?” LaShaun smiled back at her.

  The woman nodded and kept waving one hand. “Hi.”

  “Good afternoon. Can I help you?” A tall woman with skin the color of cinnamon spoke from the center nurses’ station. She wore a floral scrub top and white pants.

  “Yes, I’m looking for Mrs. Flora Lee Young. I’m a friend of the family,” LaShaun said.

  “Sure. She’s down the Rainbow Hallway in Room 269.” The woman pointed down one of three hallways branching off to LaShaun’s left.

  “Thanks.”

  LaShaun had an explanation ready in case the woman questioned her. She didn’t need to bother. The nurse had already gone back to making notes in a patient chart. A nursing assistant dressed in navy blue scrubs brushed by. No one seemed interested in a stranger walking in to visit. The television in the large dining room that faced the nurses’ station blared noise from a game show. LaShaun glanced in the rooms as she walked looking at the numbers on the wall. Most looked fairly clean. The rooms were semi-private with two beds in each, with at least one bed occupied. Suddenly a man who looked no older than fifty whizzed out of one of the rooms in a wheelchair, his arms pumping as he pushed the wheels. He looked at LaShaun, but quickly averted his gaze. She felt his embarrassment. In a flash she had a picture of him as a strong healthy man working on a roof. More pictures of him with a series of pretty women. The man hated having her see him broken, sick and in an old folks home. LaShaun wanted to reassure the man that he had worth and dignity, but he was gone. And what could she have said anyway? With a sigh LaShaun continued down the hall with tan vinyl tiles. She reached Room 269. The door was half closed. She pushed it open. Both occupants were in bed. The name plate on the door indicated that Manny’s grandmother was in the bed near the window.

  “Hmm.” A small woman lay in the first bed curled on her side. She blinked at LaShaun and smiled. Her lips worked for a few seconds before she could speak again. “Nice to see you.”

  “Hello Mrs. Richard.” LaShaun remembered the second name from the room sign. “How are you doing today?”

  “Goo--good.” Mrs. Richard had difficulty speaking, but she seemed to be comfortable.

  “Glad to hear it.” LaShaun felt kindness from Mrs. Richard’s soul, and it mixed with delightful mischief. “I’m just going to visit with Miss Flora Lee for a few minutes. I’ll try not to disturb you.”

  “Humph.” Mrs. Richard gave a little chuckle to signal she didn’t mind a bit of disturbance to break up her day.

  LaShaun nodded her understanding and went to the other bed. Mrs. Young sat up. To LaShaun’s surprise she looked alert. A magazine lay in her lap, a copy of American Catholic. Yet her gaze was fastened on the scene outside the window. With any luck Mrs. Young was having a good day.

  “Morning Miss Flora Lee,” LaShaun said quietly so as not to startled her.

  Mrs. Young blinked at the sound then slowly turned her head. Her gaze shifted from the window to LaShaun in slow motion. She blinked a few times as though trying to focus. “Who you be, child?”

  “I’m LaShaun Rousselle, Odette’s granddaughter. Francine was my mama.” LaShaun carried a chair covered in rust colored imitation leather to the bedside and sat down. “We lived over on Rousselle Lane by Mr. Marchand. You know...”

  “Odette and me used to roam them woods when I was a child. Francine was your mama, you say?” Mrs. Young blinked at her again. She pursed her lips and frowned.

  “Let me get you some water.” LaShaun stood and crossed to a side table with a pitcher on it. The ice had melted, but at least there was water left. She poured some into a glass and found a straw.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Young murmured. She sipped from the plastic cup. Her hands seemed too weak to hold it for long.

  “You’re welcome.” LaShaun placed the cup back on the table and sat in the chair again. Mrs. Richard lay on her side watching and smiling her approval. “I’m s
orry to hear you’re not feeling well.”

  “The good Lord watches over me.” Mrs. Young looked out of the window again in a distracted manner.

  “Then you’re in good hands,” LaShaun said.

  “I always got along with Odette. Lots of folks talked against her, but I never had reason to pay that any mind. I was married and gone when Francine was still a girl.” Mrs. Young eyes cleared as she studied LaShaun. Her thick eyebrows of gray and black hair lifted.

  “Your husband told me y’all were friends,” LaShaun said. The older woman’s mind was clearing, LaShaun sensed it.

  “Orin talked to you,” Mrs. Young said softly.

  “He came to see me about your grandson.” LaShaun didn’t want to upset Mrs. Young. She seemed frail, mentally and physically.

  “Manny.” Mrs. Young said the name and sighed.

  “Yes. Mr. Young thinks maybe I can help him, so I visited Manny.” LaShaun glanced at Mrs. Richard. The other woman’s eyes had closed and she breathed steadily.

  “You saw my boy?” Mrs. Young’s heavily lined face brightened.

  “Yes, he’s doing well.” LaShaun nodded.

  “Thank you Blessed Mother.” Mrs. Young almost smiled. Then she seemed to remember where Manny was and why he was there. The lines of sorrow and gloom took over her face again. “So many wanted him dead, you know. I thought those police or the guards would kill him and make it look like an accident. Or say he’d tried to escape.”

  “No one has hurt him,” LaShaun replied.

  “Not yet. I know what they gonna do to him. Stick a needle full of death in his vein, and watch him gasp his last breath. Vengeance is mine saith the Lord, but man don’t care.” Mrs. Young’s voice trailed off. Her lips moved as she mumbled softly.

  “The evidence went against him.” LaShaun said. Mrs. Young startled her by looking at her sharply, her eyes gleaming with fire.

  “I know what the boy did. I pray for his soul.” Mrs. Young reached beneath the pillow and pulled out a beautiful rosary made of wooden beads with a silver crucifix.