Only By Moonlight

by Emery, Lynn

  LaShaun opened the solid wood door, but left the storm door locked. She gazed through the glass at Neal Montgomery. “What is the lawyer representing the worst serial killer in Louisiana history doing on my doorstep?”

  “Good morning, Ms. Rousselle,” Montgomery said, ignoring her lack of a cordial greeting. “I apologize for not scheduling an appointment, but my mission to save Emanuel Young is rather urgent.”

  “How does that concern me?” LaShaun shot back. She didn’t like him. Every one of her senses, normal and paranormal, seemed to kick in shouting something was off about the man. “The DA wouldn’t be happy to know you’re talking to a witness without telling him.”

  “I’m investigating on behalf of my client, which is legal and in fact my ethical duty. You haven’t been called as a witness. Yet.” Montgomery let an eyebrow slip up briefly after he said the last word.

  LaShaun gazed at him for a few seconds. “Uh-huh. Court rooms don’t scare me.”

  “So I’ve heard. I won’t take much of your time I promise. I just have a few questions.” Montgomery wore a look of patience.

  “Come on in. I knew you’d appeal Judge Barrow’s decision.” LaShaun clicked the locks back and let him in. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m good.” Montgomery smiled.

  LaShaun led the way into her formal living room. She sat down in a chair and Montgomery sat in another one across from her. He looked around. She could feel him assessing what approach to take. Montgomery wanted her off guard, but had to figure out how to rattle her. LaShaun waited him out. Finally he looked at her again.

  “So what got you interested in trying to free a sadistic psychopath?” LaShaun said before he could speak. She titled her head to one side.

  Montgomery let an easy smile slide across his handsome face. “Our justice system—”

  “Our legal system is built on the principle that everyone deserves a good defense. Yeah, I know,” LaShaun cut in. He blinked in surprise, but he recovered fast.

  “We don’t think he got the best defense the first time around. By ‘we’ I mean our team at the True Justice Project. We very carefully review cases before we take them.” Montgomery stood and walked around the room gazing at antiques. He leaned forward to stare at a miniature painting of a Rousselle ancestor. “Your family goes back several generations in Vermilion Parish I hear.”

  “Five to be exact. Manny’s family has been here almost as long,” LaShaun said. When Montgomery straightened and faced her again, she raised an eyebrow.

  “Of course, the point of my visit is not to explore your family tree. Rather, let’s talk about Manny’s family. Orin Young was suspected of being a uniquely vicious person.” Montgomery sat down again.

  “His partners in crime were more than eager to give him up,” LaShaun said.

  “Once they knew he was dead. He seemed to inspire great fear in people. Manny has told me the way Orin and Ethan treated him. His descriptions of the physical abuse he suffered are chilling, to say the least.” Montgomery sat forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. “Obviously this shaped Manny’s personality and behavior.”

  “Which doesn’t mean he should be let loose on the world again,” LaShaun replied mildly.

  “If he’s innocent?” Montgomery sat back against the chair.

  “You won’t prove that Manny didn’t kill anyone, Mr. Montgomery. There is physical evidence that put him with at least two of the twelve victims. He was in the area where the murders occurred.”

  “He hung out with those people. They were all transient, living a high risk life-style.” Montgomery rubbed his chin. “We can show evidence that Orin Young met some of those victims on his property, the house on Black Bayou.”

  “What?” LaShaun felt a tingle up her arms. The mention of the house where Orin Young acted out his depraved urges triggered images in her mind.

  Montgomery smiled with satisfaction at surprising her at last. He nodded. “Yes. Manny told us of Orin’s sick parties.”

  “You mentioned evidence.” LaShaun gripped the arms of her chair, fighting the compulsion to gag. She felt buffeted by waves of emotions; craving for liquor, lust, greed and terror. With great effort she pushed against the gut wrenching sensation from horrible deeds committed in that place.

  “Are you feeling alright, Ms. Rousselle? I don’t know why we need to be so formal here in this lovely setting. Call me Neal, and I’ll call you LaShaun. Not La-La, which is what your grandmother used to call you as a little girl. That would be too familiar.” Montgomery’s voice seemed to float far away and then back, getting louder.

  LaShaun took in deep breaths. “I don’t understand…” her voice trailed off.

  “It’s quite simple really. Emanuel Young took the blame for Orin Young’s depraved crimes, a terrible miscarriage of justice, LaShaun.” Montgomery stared at her steadily.

  “I… I don’t believe,” she said, her throat feeling tight as she tried to go on.

  Suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifted. Air rushed in as though several windows had been opened. A solid series of thumps sounded. LaShaun whispered a prayer she’d read in one of six old family journals. Once she managed to steady her breathing LaShaun’s thinking cleared. When she stood so did Montgomery. He wore a wary expression, but covered it quickly with a smile.

  “You looked a little green there for minute. Maybe you should get a glass of water with a little mint to settle your stomach,” he said.

  “I’m feeling fine. Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” LaShaun said firmly in control again. “So if you had this evidence, why didn’t you present it in court the other day?”

  “We got some leads we didn’t have then, thanks to a friend of yours,” Montgomery replied.

  “Mine?” LaShaun frowned at him.

  “The well-know journalist James Schaffer. He did a series of investigative reports on the events surrounding your capture of Orin Young.”

  “I didn’t capture anybody. I helped search for a little girl. Deputy Chase Broussard, Sheriff Arceneaux, and their officers brought those guys in.” LaShaun frowned. “If he’s your source then I’m afraid Manny shouldn’t get his hopes up. James Schaffer is a reality show ghost chaser, not a journalist. He’d turn a squirrel hunt into a battle with Big Foot to get ratings.”

  “It’s not just Schaffer’s theories. As I said, we’re gathering real evidence,” Montgomery replied.

  LaShaun focused her energy on him, imagining it as a laser. She pushed the heat out to him. “Why do you really want Manny to get out of prison?”

  Montgomery’s flared nostrils were the only sign he felt anything. “Orin Young was the true monster. Manny was his victim.”

  “That’s only part of the truth.” LaShaun felt a throbbing pain start at the base of her neck and move to her temple. She broke off the focus of her gift. “Manny won’t leave prison alive, Mr. Montgomery.”

  Montgomery leaned forward in the chair. “You’re a fascinating woman with an amazing presence.”

  Krystal Hardy appeared suddenly in the archway leading into LaShaun’s formal parlor. She shot a brief glance at Montgomery, a chilly smile on her thin face. “The woods around here are lovely, Ms. Rousselle.”

  LaShaun glanced at Montgomery sharply. “So you distracted me to give your partner a chance to search my property. If you’ve been in my house looking around…”

  “I needed to stretch my legs after a long drive from New Orleans. I assure you I wasn’t in your home or snooping around outside. I was merely admiring your property,” Krystal Hardy said before Montgomery could speak.

  “I see,” LaShaun drawled.

  “Quite interesting that your family cemetery is on the property. That was quite common in rural areas in the eighteenth and even into the nineteenth century. I could almost feel the spirits of the Rousselle and LeGrange ancestors.” Krystal Hardy gazed around at the paintings on the walls as she spoke.

  “Yes, I wouldn’t doubt you could sense the power of
the old ones, Ms. Hardy.” LaShaun walked to her slowly. “They were strong people in life. The story of Louisiana and my family are quite unique.”

  “So I’m told,” Krystal Hardy replied.

  LaShaun sensed that the woman had a fierce love, even an obsession, for Neal Montgomery. Despite her cool exterior, Krystal didn’t like that Montgomery had been alone with LaShaun. LaShaun faced Montgomery and brushed back her thick hair. Montgomery smiled as his bold gaze swept over her.

  “Are we finished here, Neal?” Krystal said.

  “Did Orin Young give you any indication that he’d committed those murders, the ones poor Manny was convicted of I mean?” Montgomery seemed not to notice his colleague’s soft hiss of displeasure.

  “No, he didn’t,” LaShaun replied mildly.

  “Did Manny ever mention that his father or grandfather was present during the crimes or might have been responsible?” Montgomery asked.

  “He never mentioned anything like that,” LaShaun said. “I won’t help any effort to release him. Now if you’ll excuse me I have things to do.”

  “I apologize for showing up unannounced. Next time I’ll make an appointment.” Montgomery started for the door with Krystal head of him.

  “Don’t bother. I have nothing else to tell you,” LaShaun said. She followed them to the front door.

  Krystal was already on the porch as though eager to leave. “Goodbye, Ms. Rousselle.”

  “Goodbye. You should be careful wandering around people’s property out here, Ms. Hardy. Us country folk are likely to shoot first and then find out who we plugged.” LaShaun grinned when the woman took a step back.

  Montgomery laughed out loud. “You certainly live up to your reputation. Thank you for being patient with us, Ms. Rousselle. Goodbye.”

  LaShaun watched them drive away in the silver Mercedes Benz SUV. She spent the rest of the afternoon doing research on Neal Montgomery.

  Chapter 8

  Wednesday morning dawned bright and cold. LaShaun’s to-do list still flashed reminders on the calendar app of her tablet. Yet she’d been too glued to her desktop to take notice. When her phone rang, she fully expected to hear Chase’s deep sultry voice telling her he would once again have to work and wouldn’t see her that day. Instead her friend Savannah’s voice surprised her.

  “Girl we got trouble,” Savannah said.

  Twenty minutes later LaShaun stood in M.J.’s office, too keyed up to sit down. M.J. waved aside the deputy who acted as her assistant when LaShaun rushed in without asking or knocking. Still the young woman stood outside her boss’s office on alert. Only the second black female officer in the Vermilion Parish Sheriff’s Office, Toni Ferdinand seemed eager to prove her worth. LaShaun nodded to Deputy Ferdinand. She got a nod in return before Deputy Ferdinand closed the door and went back to her desk. LaShaun turned back to the acting sheriff. M.J. spoke in a clipped tone into her cell phone.

  “I’ll update you when I know more, Mayor. Yes, of course.” M.J. hit the off button and dropped the phone onto her desk. She looked up at LaShaun. “Damn, you got the word fast. CNN ain’t got nothin’ on the small town network of gossips.”

  “Savannah called me. Is Chase okay? What the hell…” LaShaun glanced around through the glass that made up one half of the office walls. The other officers seemed to be carrying on as usual.

  “He’s fine. Wish I could say the same for the witness he was interviewing,” M.J. snapped and scowled ahead. “Remember I asked you if something was different about Chase?”

  LaShaun sat down slowly. “Yeah, out at the scene where we found Becky.”

  “He tried to take Dave’s head off out there. Now he’s slapping around suspects and witnesses.” M.J. nodded when LaShaun gasped. “Kid was cussin’ everybody in sight and was stupid enough to get in Chase’s face. Chase knocked him on his ass; kid was out for about ten minutes.”

  “Oh my God,” LaShaun blurted out.

  “Doctor at the ER says it was a minor thing, mostly stunned him. But they’re keeping him in the hospital overnight just to be safe. His mama is already screaming about a lawsuit, racism and police brutality. Yeah, the kid is black. Like we don’t have enough crap to shovel,” M.J. said angrily.

  “I’m sure Chase felt threatened, M.J. You know Chase doesn’t go around beating up kids, or anyone else for that matter.” LaShaun rubbed her forehead as though that would help her get answers. “He’s more stressed out than I realized.”

  M.J. tapped an ink pen on the surface of her desk for a few minutes. “You think maybe he’s having some problems from his time over in Afghanistan? PTSD is very common for veterans.”

  “No,” LaShaun said quickly. “I’ve never seen him act like he’s having flashbacks or any other symptoms.”

  “Sometimes it can be delayed. I took classes because PTSD affects cops, too. We see a lot of bad stuff.”

  LaShaun shook her head. “I would have noticed, M.J.”

  “The thing is Chase, doesn’t talk about his time over there, so you don’t really know the details of how rough it was for him.”

  “Look, this is one instance—”

  “He talked tough to a couple of suspects a few days ago. Then he went after Dave, and now this. I’m worried about his career, but more important I’m worried about him.” M.J. gazed at LaShaun steadily.

  “I know you care about Chase, M.J.,” LaShaun replied. “Is he suspended?”

  M.J. sat back. “We caught a break. Two residents of the trailer park back up Chase’s account that the kid made physical threats. That helps. But two local reporters were already in town. I hear they’ve been talking to this kid’s mama already.”

  “Where is Chase now?” LaShaun stood.

  “He’s out on another case. Look, this wasn’t a shooting or anything like that,” M.J. added when LaShaun showed surprise. “Except for Chase running for Sheriff, I doubt anyone outside the department would take notice. Definitely most of the guys don’t see the big deal.”

  “But we know differently, M.J. We know Chase.” LaShaun sat down again and frowned with worry. “Chase wouldn’t shove around a kid because he was black, suspect or not.”

  “Let’s face it; this department has a reputation for being a less than sensitive group when it comes to race and gender.” M.J. let out a humorless laugh when LaShaun rolled her eyes.

  “I’m shocked to the core,” LaShaun retorted.

  “Humph, I had it rough fifteen years ago when I started. Toni is getting the same blow back. Things haven’t changed as much or as fast as we’d like. Most of the guys gave him props for messing up a perp.” M.J. wore a stern expression. “I’m not included in that number, and my vote outnumbers them.”

  “M.J., give him a chance to explain,” LaShaun said.

  “I did. He said the law-abiding citizens expect us to hold the line on low lifes.” M.J. broke off when the door to her office opened.

  Chase smiled at LaShaun easily, as if his day was going as usual. “Hey, baby. What are you doing here? Gonna treat me to lunch I hope.”

  LaShaun stood. “I was just… I came down because… I got a call that you might have been hurt.”

  “If you’re talking about that little dust up out on Post Oak Lane, forget what you heard. I’ll bet by the time the story gets around town, folks will say there was automatic gunshots and dead bodies everywhere.” Chase laughed. He glanced at M.J. “We got a three car accident with injuries out on Highway 35. Bo and Larry are working it with the State Police. I’m going to wrap up my report on the kid. Oh, and I’m going to interview Greg Graham again at three this afternoon. I’ll bet you money he got Becky to run off. Crazy kids.”

  “You best postpone that talk with Greg Graham,” M.J. said firmly.

  “No reason. I’m fine,” Chase replied mildly and then placed his hands on his waist. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t want a repeat performance of you deciding to knock answers outta some smart ass kid. We both know Greg f
its that description,” M.J. shot back.

  “You don’t have to worry unless Greg comes at me like that other punk. Or would you like deputies on your watch to get beaten or shot so we can be politically correct?” Chase snapped.

  M.J. stood up. “You better watch it, Chase. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. But acting like a loose cannon commando around this parish is not how we enforce the law. It wasn’t that way under Sheriff Triche, and it sure as hell won’t be while I’m acting Sheriff.”

  Chase and M.J. stared each other down. Despite the itch to jump between them, LaShaun kept quiet. Not only was M.J. the boss, but she had a right to be angry. Nor would Chase appreciate her acting like his mother showing up to defend him in the principal’s office. Tense seconds ticked by as LaShaun held her breath. She let it out when Chase’s stony expression softened.

  “Okay, you got a point,” Chase said.

  “Oh yeah,” M.J. retorted, still steadfast in asserting her authority. “We get more information by treating suspects with respect, and even courtesy.”

  “The kid in the trailer park really did come at me. I could have used my training a little better, but he grabbed at me like he was going for my gun,” Chase said in a calm tone.

  M.J. seemed to relax at his words. “I believe you made a solid decision based on your professional judgment.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” Chase’s usual easy smile pulled up his lips. “Look, I’m on notice to keep it cool. I’ll be the perfect gentleman lawman even when Greg or his daddy mouth off.”

  Deputy Ferdinand knocked and came in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Patrick called. That’s deputy Anderson,” she said to LaShaun in explanation. “They found scales, two bags of weed, three thousand dollars and two Glocks in the kid’s trailer.”