by Robin Caroll
Who didn’t want her in Lagniappe? Who would be willing to turn to arson to get her to leave?
THREE
It looked like she was wearing fingerless gloves, like something out of the eighties.
Monique stared at her gauze-covered palms as she sat in the wheelchair waiting for the nurse to bring her discharge papers. She couldn’t allow herself to wallow in self-pity. She wouldn’t. She had to be strong, take charge. If she didn’t, she’d crawl into a bed, pull the covers over her head and never emerge again.
She grabbed her purse from the foot of the ER bed, where the paramedic had placed it when he’d brought her in. At least she still had her cell phone and her wallet. Better call a cab to take her…where?
Despair circled her heart. Her home was gone—that much she could ascertain. Had she made a terrible mistake in selling her house and moving here? It’d been so hard to list the home she’d shared with Kent. But she’d needed a fresh start, a place to lick her wounds and build a new life. Start the New Year off in a new place. Lagniappe, where her relatives lived, had sounded like a good idea at the time. But now?
No, she wouldn’t allow herself to be chased out of town. Not by threatening phone calls or even someone burning down her house. Kent had told her time and again that she was the strongest woman he knew. She wouldn’t disappoint his memory of her inner strength. She’d find out who was behind all this, just as she’d been doing with his murderer. She’d see justice served, and this time, it would be total justice. Monique would do what she had to do.
And maybe find some sort of peace.
She fumbled in her purse for her cell. She’d have to find a hotel or motel and book a room. For an extended stay. She’d also have to buy clothes and toiletries. But right now, all she wanted to do was huddle under the covers and sleep. Her fingers grazed the worn pocket Bible Kent had loved so dearly. Fresh tears burned against her raw eyes.
So much for her inner strength and resolve.
“Mind if I disturb you again?” The deputy’s smile was wide, engaging his entire face, as he stuck his head past the curtain.
“I’m really not up for more questions, Deputy. I’m tired, they gave me a shot of pain medication and I have to find someplace to stay for the night.” She held up her phone to prove her claim.
“No more questions tonight, Mrs. Harris. I can finish my report tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She ran her thumb over the raised buttons. “Could you possibly recommend a hotel or motel? One that’s fairly close?”
Laughter flashed in his eyes. “Well, we only have one motel, and it’s not even five minutes away.”
Only one? “I wonder if they still have a room vacant.”
He laughed aloud. “Are you kidding? They probably have all their rooms available. Lagniappe isn’t exactly a tourist mecca.”
Even being here only a week, she knew that. Or should’ve, if she’d been thinking clearly. “Oh. Well, guess I’d better call a cab.” She paused, staring at him. “The town does have a taxi service, doesn’t it?”
“We do, but I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me take you to the motel?”
A lump lodged in her throat. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable with that idea. Especially since she found him so unaccountably attractive. “I appreciate the thought, but I can call a cab. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“No bother. Hey, it reads on our cruisers ‘to serve and protect.’” He winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t be driving.”
She tilted her head against the pain medication beginning to take effect, making her feel as gauzy as the bandages on her hands and feet.
“I rode here with you, remember?”
“Oh. Right. So, how…?”
“My mother came to get me. She’d love to give you a ride.”
His mother? Surely it’d be safe to let the nice lawman and his mother take her to the motel. Besides, she was so tired. Drained. And her mind just went totally blank.
“I promise we’ll drive you straight to the motel, get you checked in and let you get some rest.”
She offered a shaky smile. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Good. I’ll tell Mom to bring the car around.” He left with a whoosh of the curtain.
Nice man. At least he seemed to be. Having spent time around the police during the investigation into Kent’s murder, she knew not all cops were as nice and concerned. The lead detective in Kent’s case had been more interested in getting a conviction and closing the case than in finding the truth.
She still didn’t buy the murderer’s testimony. Mainly that he drove the car and fired the gun that killed Kent. She was well trained and quite good with handguns. For a man high on drugs to fire a gun from the driver’s seat, through the open passenger window of a moving car, and hit his target so accurately? It just didn’t seem plausible to her. Hadn’t back then, and didn’t now.
“Here are your discharge papers and instructions.” The nurse passed her several papers. “I just need your signature on the top copy.”
Trying to sign her name using only the tips of her fingers was a challenge, but she managed to get a scrawl across the bottom of the form.
The nurse inspected it, nodded and passed her a little brown paper bag. “This is your antibiotic cream and gauze. I included several pairs of latex gloves to wear when you wash so you won’t saturate your hands. I also put a couple of pairs of surgical booties in there. I’d suggest you wear them over the bandages on your feet when you bathe. And take baths, not showers. Prop your feet up so the bandages don’t get wet. Change the dressings twice a day and if you see the wounds getting red or swollen, call us immediately.”
Monique took the bag and set it in her lap. Not exactly the way she thought she’d be spending New Year’s.
“Do you have someone coming to get you?” asked the nurse.
“Yes. He’s having the car brought around.” Whatever that meant.
“Good. Let me just wheel you out.”
Nerves bunched in Monique’s gut. She recognized it as coming down from an adrenaline rush. At times, she’d assisted Kent in his private-investigating business, and when they’d uncovered something vital, she’d experienced the adrenaline spike. She recognized the signs now—she’d crash soon.
A blast of cold air slammed into her as the double doors automatically whooshed open at the Emergency Room entrance. She shivered, missing the blanket she’d had to leave back in the examining area. With only flannel pajamas to protect her, Monique gripped her purse and paper bag tighter.
“What kind of car does he drive, honey?” The nurse engaged the locking mechanism on the wheelchair.
“Um…”
She was saved from having to respond by an older-model Ford sedan pulling up to the curb. Deputy Anderson jumped from the front seat on the passenger’s side. “Sorry it took a minute. Mom had me clean out the backseat for you, so you could prop up your feet and all.”
Monique smiled, grateful for the deputy and his mother.
He helped the nurse transfer Monique from the wheelchair into the car with her feet propped up on the worn vinyl, then returned to the passenger’s seat. “Monique Harris, this is my mother, Della Anderson. Mom, this is Monique.”
“Thank you so much for the ride, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Oh, ma chére, it’s Della. We’re not too formal around here.” The woman with eyes as soft as her son’s slipped the car into gear and gunned the engine. “I’m just so sorry for what happened to you. I can’t imagine. Must’ve been horrifying.”
Monique smiled despite her exhaustion. It’d been a long time since someone had fussed over her so.
“Are those the only clothes you’ve got?” Della didn’t wait for a reply before popping the deputy softly on the arm. “You need to get the girl some clothes. She can’t run around in pajamas.”
“Yes, ma’am.” But he winked at Monique when his mother turned her attention back to the road.
“Crying shame, losing e
verything in a fire. I declare, it’s a downright tragedy.” Della glanced at Monique in her rearview mirror. “Don’t you fret none, sweetie. I’ll see that my boy gets you something to wear until you can go shopping.”
They passed through downtown Lagniappe. Monique had been immediately attracted to its quaint charm. Didn’t seem so quaint now, what with someone trying to run her out of town.
“Are you hungry? Would you like to get something to eat?”
Monique smiled at the woman’s reflection. “No, ma’am. I’m just tired and want to get some sleep.”
“Bless your heart. I understand. You’ll be ready to eat in the morning.” Della tossed her son a knowing look.
Grinning at their interplay, Monique leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Fatigue overcame every muscle in her body.
The car came to a stop.
Monique opened her eyes and sat straight. They were parked outside the front office of the Lagniappe Motel. Deputy Anderson climbed out of the car. “I’ll be right back.”
She shifted her purse and bag. Oh, no. She’d forgotten to give him money to pay for the room. Well, he was the town deputy, after all. He’d probably tell them she’d settle up in the morning. Monique hid a yawn behind her hand.
He returned, brandishing a key. “Pull up there, Mom.” He nodded toward the room closest to the office. “I asked that you be given a room up front. Just in case you needed anything.”
“Thanks.” She hid another yawn.
Quicker than she thought would be possible, he’d opened the motel room door for her, helped her inside and promised to come check on her in the morning and finish taking her statement. He took her cell number, gave her his, then he was gone.
Alone in the motel room, Monique hobbled toward the bed. So, so tired. She set her purse on the nightstand, grabbed the bag and tottered to the bathroom. At the sink, she bent to rinse out her mouth. Her hair fanned her face, and the smell of smoke overtook her. She almost retched. No, she couldn’t go to sleep yet. She needed to bathe and wash her hair. But she’d make it quick.
She opened the paper bag and withdrew the gloves and surgical booties, then caught her reflection. She looked awful. Like something the cat drug up. But her eyes were the worst. Oh, not from the smoke and fire. Her eyes looked haunted, as if she’d seen too much for them to take.
Technically, she had.
She crumbled to the floor and let the sobs overtake her. Despite her resolution to stay strong, it was all too much. So she gave in to the tears. Tears of grief over losing Kent, tears of pain, and tears of frustration that she seemed helpless to stop the hurricane her life had become.
Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful with the sun slipping through the live oaks surrounding the bayou. Gary took a sip of coffee as he stood on the balcony of his apartment. Even though he hadn’t hit the hay until well after one in the morning, his internal clock had awoken him at six sharp. Now, a shower and two hours later, he readied for work.
His cell phone chirped.
Very few people called him so early, especially on the weekend. Had to be work. He snatched the phone from the dinette table. “Anderson.”
“Good morning. Glad I caught you before you left. I called the ladies at church and rounded up some clothes for Monique. She can’t go shopping in pajamas, for goodness’ sake. And I’ve just put in a pan of biscuits and I’m making the sausage gravy now. You come on and swing by here for the clothes, and I’ll have a plate ready for you to take to her.”
Gary couldn’t help smiling. His mother, though never having much herself, always thought of other people’s needs. No one could ever say Della Anderson wasn’t a generous and giving woman. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there inside of twenty minutes.”
He dressed in his uniform straight from the dry cleaners and headed to the cruiser. After they’d dropped Monique off at the motel last night, his mother had taken him to get the car. And they’d seen the damage left by the fire.
It wasn’t pretty.
The porcelain bathtub was the only thing left standing. That, and a portion of the toilet. An SUV had been parked under one of the oak trees kitty-corner to the house. It’d been saved from the fire, luckily. The air breezing over the bayou had been filled with the stench of burning wood. His mother had felt even more for Monique after seeing the total devastation.
Della met him at the door. “What took you so long? The gravy’s gonna get thick.” She presented her cheek for a peck.
Gary obliged, kissing her softly.
“Take those bags out to your car while I fix her plate.” She nodded to three paper sacks sitting by the door.
“Um, don’t I get a plate?” he teased.
His mother smiled and swatted him with a hand towel. “I’m making two plates for y’all. Figured you could eat with her and see how she’s getting on.”
He lifted the sacks with a grin and carried them to his car. Once he returned, his mother met him with two big containers as well as a thermos. “Two biscuits and gravy plates and some good coffee.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He took the offering and planted another kiss on her temple. “You’re the best.”
She blushed and shooed him away.
After settling the containers on the passenger’s seat, he steered the cruiser toward the motel. How was the lovely Monique Harris going to feel about him showing up at eight o’clock on Saturday morning to share breakfast with her? Too late to back out now. His mother would no doubt seek Monique out and ask her about the food and clothes. She’d be crushed if he didn’t deliver the goods.
No cars were at the motel, save the office clerk’s little hatchback. Gary parked in front of Monique’s room, praying she wasn’t still sleeping. Juggling the containers and thermos, he knocked softly on the door.
Long seconds passed. Maybe she was still asleep.
The door inched open. Monique’s wide eyes peered from the crack.
“Good morning. Breakfast is served, courtesy of my mother, who, by the way, is one of the best cooks in the parish.” He held up the thermos. “And coffee comes with it.” He couldn’t believe that his nerves were as knotted as a cypress tree. Sure, he’d never been a Casanova around the ladies, but something about Monique Harris made him feel like an awkward schoolboy.
She hesitated only a moment before opening the door. When she smiled at him, his heart stuttered for a moment. He forced himself to calm down. She was a subject, nothing more. He had too much to lose if he didn’t stay on top of his game. That was his only interest in her—solving her case.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I was wondering how I was going to go out for something to eat in my pajamas.” She took the thermos and set it on the little table by the window. “I didn’t think the motel would have room service.”
He chuckled, admiring her sense of humor when he knew she had to be devastated. “And there’s more. Mom gathered some clothes for you. Probably nothing worthy of a fashion magazine, but it’ll be something to hold you over until you can go shopping.” He headed back to the car to grab the sacks when a thought hit him. What if she didn’t have any money to buy clothes and other necessities? She’d just bought a house.
“Oh, my.” Monique took one of the sacks from him and set it on the foot of the bed. “Wow. This is too much. Your mother didn’t have to do all this.”
Heat crept up his neck. Was she insulted? “That’s just the way Mom is, always wanting to help. She doesn’t mean anything by it.” He set the remaining bags beside the other and took a seat in one of the two chairs by the little table.
Monique tossed him a funny look, much like the one his mother sent him when he’d fidgeted too much in church, and glanced inside the sack. “This is wonderful. I’m very grateful. I didn’t have a clue how I was going to be able to get out and buy anything.”
“Great. Let’s eat.” He put one of the containers in front of the vacant chairs.
She stopped. “Oh. That’s right, you need to finish
questioning me.” She hobbled to the chair and plopped down, pulling the cheap motel blanket around her.
“We don’t have to do that just yet.” He opened the thermos and filled the two plastic motel cups with strong coffee. “Why don’t we just eat for now? We’ll need to make arrangements for you to get your vehicle.”
“If it wasn’t damaged by the fire. I can’t remember how close I parked to the house.” She shook her head. “And I’d just gotten that SUV before I moved here. Traded in my old hatchback.”
“It looks fine.”
She caught his gaze over the table.
Her wide-eyed stare kicked him in the gut. If he did his job as he should, he’d be able to help this poor woman. And that’s all he needed to worry about—doing his job. He cleared his throat. “I had to get my car last night, remember?”
“Right.” She opened the lid off the container. “Wow, this is a lot of food.”
“Mom believes in never leaving a table hungry.” He chuckled.
She joined in his laughter. “I can see that.”
“Would you like to offer grace?”
Monique froze, fork midair. “Um, you go ahead.”
His heart fell. She wasn’t a believer. He ducked his head, offered a prayer and then met her gaze again.
“Sorry. It’s just that after what happened with Kent, God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.”
“I see.”
But he didn’t. In the roughest times of his life, his faith had often been the only thing that got him through. If Monique couldn’t turn to God now when she’d lost everything else, she truly was lost herself.
Dear Lord, please use me to minister to her. Guide me to be Your witness in her life right now.
FOUR
“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to scare you out of town?”
Saturday breakfast was officially over. The deputy sat with his notebook open, pen poised and inquiring stare locked directly on Monique’s face. He looked very handsome with that serious expression on his face. Even with her clogged sinuses, she could detect the hint of his aftershave. Woodsy and nature-y. And surprisingly comforting.