Shadows of Home: A Woman with Questions. A Man with Secrets. A Bayou without Mercy

by Deborah Epperson

  “You’re out of everything now.” Elita opened the doors to the liquor cabinet. “I poured it all down the sink.”

  Royce stared at the empty cabinet. “Why the devil did you do that?” he yelled, then grabbed his head and moaned.

  “Because I figured you’d wake up and want a little hair of the dog that bit you. That’s the last thing you need.”

  “Says you,” he groused. “I had some expensive stuff in there.”

  “I’m sure the bacteria in your septic tank enjoyed it.”

  He squinted up at her, made a face, and pointed at the patio door.

  Elita moved over to the wall of glass facing Buccaneer Branch, the canal off Caddo Lake that ran past Royce’s property. She pulled the drapes partially closed, but left the patio door open. He might not appreciate the bright sunrays at this moment, but Royce could definitely use the fresh air. “Is that better?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” He looked at his wrist. “Where’s my watch?”

  “In the bedroom. Want me to get it for you?”

  “What time is it?”

  “A little past noon.”

  Royce jerked to his feet. “Damn! I was supposed to be in Houston this morning.” His legs trembled beneath him. He grabbed the edge of the table for support.

  “Sit down before you fall down,” Elita ordered.

  He shook his head. “I have to call the Houston office and reschedule a meeting with some guys to purchase drilling rights.”

  “Everything’s been taken care of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cliff called right before you got up. He wanted to check on you and let you know everything went off without a hitch.”

  “What does Cliff have to do with it?”

  She tugged at his arm. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”

  He sank down into the chair, sandwiched his head between his hands and groaned.

  “Cliff called last night and asked me to come over. Said it was an emergency.” As she talked, Elita took a bottle of aspirin from the cabinet and filled a glass with water. “He told me you needed to be in Houston today to negotiate a deal for some oil leases, but you were too drunk to go. So, he decided to go in your place.”

  “Oh, crap,” Royce grumbled.

  “Relax. Everything is fine.” She set the glass on the table, shook out three aspirin, and handed them to him.

  “I doubt that.” He threw back the pills, washed them down with a gulp of water.

  “Cliff said they signed leases for the Texas property and another promising tract in Louisiana near DeRidder for the same price.”

  “You must have misunderstood him. Uncle Darwin is great with numbers, but he couldn’t sell a canteen of water in the Sahara Desert. And Cliff is—”

  “A natural-born salesman. He’s smart, charming, and has a way of putting people around him at ease.”

  Royce eyed her suspiciously. “When did you become a fan of Cliff’s?”

  “I’ve always liked him, except when he tried to follow us around.” Elita pulled out the chair across from Royce and sat. “You don’t give Cliff enough credit. He dragged you out of that bar last night and made sure I was here to look after you before he left. He didn’t have to do that.”

  “How did Cliff convince you to be my nursemaid for the night?”

  “Never you mind.” She rose, pushed the glass of orange juice toward him, and picked up the cup of lukewarm coffee. “Just drink up and take a shower. You’ll feel better.”

  “I’m feeling kind of shaky. I might slip and fall.” Royce’s lips eased into a faint curve. “Maybe you’d better give me a sponge bath instead.”

  Elita laughed. “Dream on, Buster.” She sauntered over to the sink, poured out the coffee. “Could you keep some toast and scrambled eggs down?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  She studied him. Finger-combed hair, faded jeans unbuttoned at the top, broad shoulders bare and drooped. A gray pallor colored his face causing the dark circles under his eyes to be more pronounced. His baby blues stared blankly into space as he sipped his juice.

  Elita wanted to ask him about last night. How did the shooting at Kent State tie into the secrets that haunted him, the secrets he’d refused to share with her? She felt there had to be a connection. This would be a good time to ask Royce, while his guard was down. An air of vulnerability swirled around him. Yes, this would be the perfect time to ease into the taboo subject of Vietnam.

  Royce looked at her and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.” The words rushed out of him in a faint, weary whoosh.

  The warmth of his words melted her desire to quiz him. Instead, she picked up a sponge and started washing his cup.

  “We made love, didn’t we?” he asked.

  She searched for the right words to describe their earlier intimate joining. “It was just sex.”

  “No, ‘just sex’ is what I have with other women.”

  Elita’s fingers tightened around the sponge. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to think of a snappy comeback—anything that would dispel the implication of his words. Nothing came to mind.

  “I remember something about us going to Las Vegas to get married.” Royce finished his orange juice. “Did I ask you to marry me?”

  “Several times. Lucky for you, I don’t take marriage proposals from drunks seriously.”

  “Received a lot of proposals, have you?”

  “A couple. I work the late shift at the hospital. We get a few amorous drunks coming by the pharmacy to get prescriptions filled, especially on the weekends. But most of their proposals don’t include marriage.” She smiled at him, picked up the empty juice glass and started toward the sink.

  He grabbed her wrist. “Did your architect friend ask you to marry him?”

  She looked into Royce’s eyes. “Yes.” She thought she saw him flinch.

  “Was he drunk?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you marry him?”

  “Keith’s firm sent him to Rome to work on a project. He asked me to marry him and move to Italy. Mama thought I should finish college first. I agreed with her.”

  A hint of dread slid into Royce’s blood-shot eyes. “You still love him?”

  A car door slammed.

  “That’s probably the men from the glass company.” Grateful for the interruption, she moved to the kitchen window, pulled back the curtain and looked outside. A small hitch of air caught in her throat.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “It’s Starla.” Elita turned to Royce. “Maybe you’ll get that sponge bath after all.”

  She opened the door and found Starla standing there holding a large paper sack. The two women stared at each other. Elita hoped her own expression didn’t mirror the disappointment flashing across Starla’s perfectly made-up face. “Come on in.”

  Starla pushed passed her, marched over to the kitchen table, set down her bag. “Cliff called the office to say you were sick. I took the afternoon off to bring you some soup and take care of you.” She glared at Elita. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  Elita forced a smile. “Don’t mind me. I was just leaving.”

  “How long has she been here, Royce?” Starla asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Royce got drunk last night and passed out. Cliff had to go to Houston and didn’t want to leave his brother alone. He asked me to keep an eye on Royce.” When they were younger, Elita and Royce never bothered trying to defend or justify their relationship to anyone. They were one unit, joined at the heart. It irritated her that she now felt the need to explain her actions to Starla.

  “Why didn’t Cliff call me to stay with Royce?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.” Elita picked up her purse and headed for the door.

  “Elita, wait.” Royce pushed up out of his chair. “Don’t go.”

  The room filled with silence. Elita and Royce traded stares as she waited for him to give her a reason to stay.

  Starla br
oke the hush with a nervous laugh. “I’m here now, Royce. You don’t need her anymore.”

  He glanced at Starla, then back at Elita. He didn’t speak.

  Elita squared her shoulders and silently commanded her bottom lip to stop quivering. “Starla’s right, Royce. You don’t need me anymore.” She swirled, pushed open the front door and let it slam behind her.

  Elita walked down the porch steps and marched across the yard. She yanked opened the car door, but hesitated before getting in. Had he called her name? Was he coming after her? She turned back to look at the house. The closed door answered her questions. She jumped in the car, started the engine, and through tear-filled eyes raced out of Royce’s driveway and out of his life.

  CHAPTER 9

  A full moon graced the night sky as Matt tied up his boat. He stopped to listen to the sounds echoing off the waters of Moss Slough. The croaking of a family of bullfrogs, the persistent chirping of crickets and the occasional caw of a restless bird were all normal night sounds of the Caddo. Normal was good. Normal was safe.

  Except for the four years he’d spent in the U.S. Navy, Matt Dupree had lived his entire life on Caddo Lake. She’d provided him a watery playground when he was a boy and a decent living when he became a man. He’d studied her, loved her, hated her when she took his brother from him, and after a time of healing, had come to love her once again.

  Sometimes, he thought of the Caddo as a beautiful, mysterious woman who, depending on how you treated her, could fulfill your secret desires or take your life. Mostly though, he regarded her as his haven, the one place he could retreat to when old yearnings threatened to swamp him and festering anger urged him to reclaim all that’d been stolen from him. And it was in the dark, wet arms of her bayous that he sought refuge and release whenever the pain inside glowed so hot it seared his soul and threatened to turn him from man to monster. But tonight, the Caddo served as his protector. Her darkness shielded him from prying eyes as he made his way across the backyard of the cottage rented by his secret business partner and lover.

  Halfway across the yard, he slipped behind the corner of the rickety detached garage and conducted his usual reconnaissance. A quick inspection revealed no cars in the driveway, her midnight blue Lincoln in the garage, and the glow from a single kitchen light in an otherwise pitch-dark house. All the signs signaled a safe approach. He darted across the yard, opened the door to the back screened porch and stepped inside.

  “You’re late.”

  Matt’s head jerked right. In the dark of night, he could barely make out the shadowed silhouette of a woman sitting in the wicker settee at the end of the porch. “Sorry about that. I had to wait until Elita went to bed.” He sauntered over and sat beside her. “She’s become quite the night owl lately.”

  “You think she suspects something?”

  “She’s definitely curious.” He sighed heavily. “I might have added fuel to that fire.”

  She shifted to look at him. “How?”

  “Elita came to my cabin to tell me lunch was ready. I’d left the boat catalogs and my new watch on the coffee table. She asked me about them.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I said I hoped to get a bigger boat one day.”

  “Sounds logical. After all, you’re a professional fisherman.”

  “I made it sound like a pipe dream.”

  She patted his hand. “It won’t be a pipe dream for long.” She snatched a gold lighter and a pack of cigarettes off the end table.

  “The watch was harder to explain.”

  “I bet.” She pulled out a smoke, flipped back the top to the Zippo lighter.

  “I told Elita the watch was a gift from a client.”

  She stopped in the middle of lighting her cigarette.

  The flame from the lighter burned bright enough for him to read the concern in her eyes. “I know it was a lame explanation, but it was all I could come up with at the time.”

  She lit her smoke, sucked in a long drag, blew it out. “Your niece is smart. Too smart to believe some grateful weekend fisherman gave you a Rolex watch.”

  “You’re probably right, although I did tell her it was from a very satisfied client.”

  A low chuckle slipped from the back of her throat. “You got that part right.” She ran her hand up his thigh. “I am a very, very satisfied client.”

  His jeans tightened as lust crawled up his belly. He pulled the cigarette from her fingers. “I thought you quit.”

  “I got nervous waiting for you. When I get nervous, I need something to suck on and I ran out of peppermints.”

  He dropped the smoke on the floor, crushed it out with the toe of his boot. Leaning in, he brushed his mouth across hers. “If you’re still nervous, I’ve got something bigger and better for you to wrap your honeyed lips around.”

  She laughed and gave him a playful slap. “You’re so damn wicked, Matt Dupree.”

  “You make me that way.” He crushed his mouth to hers. His hand slid under her silk blouse and discovered she wore no bra. One less hurdle, he thought as his mouth found her breast. He heard her sigh, felt her fingers knead his shoulders. He started to move to her other delicate swell.

  She pushed him away. “Work before play.”

  “Can’t we skip work this one time?” He tried to kiss her again, but she drew back.

  “That wouldn’t be smart. We have a deadline to meet and we’re already behind on production. Men like Leo Garr don’t like excuses and they don’t give second chances.”

  “What kind of man did you get me mixed up with?”

  “A man that can make you a lot of money.” She brushed back his hair. “You said that was what you wanted.”

  “It is, but right now I want you more.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “I want you now. I want you here.”

  “Here? On the porch? Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous?”

  “What’s life without a little danger sprinkled in here and there?”

  “A boat could come by. Somebody night fishing.”

  “They won’t. Trust me. I’m your friendly professional fisherman, remember?” He pushed her skirt up around her waist and found her smooth bottom as bare as the day she was born. No bra, no panties—it could only mean one thing. She wanted more from him than just a few hours work. He nudged her thighs apart. “Let’s play first, work later.”

  “We’re already running late.”

  “Think about it for a minute.” He buried his face against her neck, nibbling, tasting the salt of her skin as his fingers slipped inside her.

  She gasped. Her hands tightened around the arms of the settee as her hips instinctively arched.

  He didn’t stop his erotic assault until she shuddered hard and cried out his name. Then he asked, “What did you decide?”

  “Okay.” She rose and headed toward the back door, motioning for him to follow.

  Matt stood. “Let’s stay out here so we can hear the Caddo’s night music.” He stripped off his shirt, tossed it on the settee. “I want to feel her breeze and your fingernails rake my back when I take you.” He closed the distance between them. “Afterwards, I’ll work like a demon for you, and we’ll decide what to do about that inquisitive niece of mine.”

  “If she figures out what’s going on and word gets back to—”

  “I’ll take care of Elita.” He cradled his lover’s face in his hands. “I’m not going to let anyone spoil this for us this time.”

  From deep in the bowels of the bayou came a mournful howl.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and whispered, “What was that?”

  “Sounded like a very unhappy dog to me.”

  “Reminds me of the wolves I heard when I visited Alaska.”

  “There are no wolves in the Caddo,” he said. “At least, not the kind you’re talking about.”

  “What kind of wolf does roam these woods?”

  “You’re looking at him.”


  She undid the button on his jeans and ran her finger down his zipper. “Are you a big bad wolf?”

  “Real bad.” He slipped his hands around her waist. “And real big.”

  She laughed. “That sounds like bragging to me.”

  “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

  Her lips parted in a slow, sensuous smile. “You’ll have to prove that.”

  “I plan to do just that.” A low growl rose from his throat as he yanked her to him. He would ravish her, devour her, and make her his for eternity.

  * * *

  Sheriff Virgil Glover hung his Stetson on a peg on the side of the custom-made gun cabinet in his Oil City office. Having served three years as a Marine Sergeant in the Korean War and twelve years as sheriff of Caddo Parish, Glover had seen his share of dead and mangled bodies. From the bloated bodies of drowning victims, to human flesh ripped by bullets and knives, to the seared skin of the burned—Virgil had seen the worst one human could do to another. At least that’s what he’d thought until the Texas Rangers telephoned earlier that morning and asked him to come over and check out a body of a toothless, red-haired woman they’d discovered on the Texas side of Caddo Lake the day before.

  Deputy Mark Hagar knocked on the sheriff’s door.

  Glover brushed back a lock of silver-streaked black hair and motioned for his deputy to come in.

  “I heard you got a call from the Texas Rangers.” Hagar leaned against the door frame, his lips curled in an easy smile. “What’s the matter? They need our help to catch speeders now?”

  Glover’s brow knitted into a tight frown. “Not exactly. The Harrison County Sheriff’s Department called in the Rangers because they found a woman’s body on the edge of Caddo State Park.” He walked over to the window air conditioner and cranked it up to high cool. “Since it’s state land, the county sheriff figured the state boys would want to handle the murder investigation.”

  Hagar straightened. “What makes them think it’s murder? Maybe the woman died—”

  “Someone cut off her hands and used her body for an ashtray.” Glover walked back to his desk and slid his six-three frame into his chair. “I’d say that indicates we’re looking at a murder, wouldn’t you?”