by Julie Kenner
The howling had stopped, but her investigation was not in vain. The light of a single lantern caught the gleam of red-brown hair—Remy, walking down the ramp so noiselessly that he might as well have been floating.
It was not instinct that drove Dana to follow. Instinct might be considered a survival mechanism, and this was pure stupidity. She dashed into her room, grabbed the flashlight and ran after Remy, hoping she hadn’t already lost him.
The moon was still full, though it had moved lower in the sky, and so bright that she didn’t need the flashlight. Remy was almost out of sight. She stalked him as quietly as she could, expecting him to turn and see her at any moment.
But he had other things on his mind. All of a sudden he began to jog along the narrow path, and Dana had to use all her concentration to keep up.
Remy vanished behind a line of cypress trees. When she reached the other side, she didn’t know whether to feel relief or horror.
A man lay sprawled on the boggy ground, and Remy knelt beside him, talking in a soft voice. He didn’t seem to notice as she drew closer. Within a few steps she could see that the man on the ground was not simply taking a rest. He was, unaccountably, quite naked. His lower leg was caught in what could only be an animal trap of some kind, and Remy was in the process of prying the jaws of the trap apart with his hands.
The man gave a barely audible whimper. Dana cast away her doubts and knelt at Remy’s side. He looked up, his expression conveying chagrin, fear and relief, all at the same time. She saw immediately that the man in the trap was the one she’d seen at her window.
He was young—younger than Remy—but the vulnerability she recognized in his face was not merely that of youth, or even of pain. He gazed directly into her eyes while Remy worked, just as he’d stared through the window. Her discomfort didn’t come from his nudity; she’d seen plenty of nude bodies, in all shapes and sizes. Now, if it were Remy instead…
Get your mind back on the problem at hand. And the problem was not the reason the young man had gotten himself caught in a trap while running around naked, but the injury to his leg. That was something a doctor ought to be able to help.
And how long has it been since you set a bone or stitched up a wound outside of a sterile operating room? Dana moved closer to Remy, her shoulder brushing his, as he snapped the jaws of the trap apart and tossed the ugly contraption several yards away. The young man winced.
“Remy?” he said.
“It’s all right, Tris.” Remy glanced at Dana, his expression closed and grim. “I need to take him back to the boat.”
“He’s injured.” Dana bent over the young man’s leg and examined it by flashlight. “It’s a nasty wound. He may have a fracture. He ought to go to the hospital right a—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Remy positioned his arms under the young man’s back and knees, lifted him gently and set off for the houseboat.
“You’re crazy,” Dana said, jogging to keep pace. “A doctor should look at his leg.”
“You’re a doctor.”
“A doctor with the right equipment, under sanitary conditions. This is not the Stone Age.”
“I know what’s best for him.”
“You do, do you? Just who is he?”
Remy never broke stride. His eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Tristan is my brother.”
Dana St. Cyr was quiet for the remaining distance to the boat, and for that Remy was grateful. She was bound to have questions, and he had to think up answers quickly.
He carried Tris onto the boat, pushed open the door to Tris’s bedroom with his foot, and laid his brother down on the bed. Dana was right behind him. If she’d seen this second bedroom before, she would have known he didn’t live on the boat alone.
At the moment she was intent on Tris and not on Remy’s deception. She arranged the sheets and blankets to cover all of Tris except his leg, and then glanced up at Remy.
“I need you to get me some clean cloth for washing—something that can be torn easily, and boiling water, in two containers,” Dana said briskly. “Also soap, and rubbing alcohol if you have it, whiskey if you don’t. I may need to make a splint if his leg is broken. I don’t see any bone protruding, thank goodness.” Without waiting to see if he would obey, she leaned over Tris and touched his cheek. “How are you doing, Tristan? Can you talk to me?”
Tris gazed at her as if he’d seen a ghost whose haunting he welcomed. “All right,” he repeated. “You’ll…stay with me?”
“Of course I will. And as soon as you can be moved, we’re taking you to the hospital.”
Remy strode out of the room. If he didn’t do as she asked, she would think him a heartless son of a bitch. But soon enough she would see that her concerns were completely unnecessary.
Then the questions would come. Remy prayed that Tristan wouldn’t make things worse.
By the time he returned with the cloth and boiling water, Dana had pulled a chair up beside the bed and was examining Tristan’s leg.
“No broken bones,” she said. “Your brother is very fortunate.” She smiled at Tris, who couldn’t take his eyes from her. “I’ll have a better idea what’s what when we clean this blood away.” She let the water cool slightly and scrubbed her hands vigorously in one of the bowls. Only then did she dip a washcloth into the second bowl and begin dabbing at the wounds.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “That trap should have done much more damage.” She frowned. “These wounds are superficial. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were already healing.” She turned to Remy. “How did you know?”
Remy stared at the wall. “I could see it wasn’t bad,” he said. “Tris is always getting into some scrape or other.”
She shook her head. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve…done this kind of work. But I haven’t forgotten that much.” She patted Tris’s shoulder through the blanket. “Any pain, Tristan? If we go to the doctor, we can make sure you’ll be all right.”
There was something very admirable in the way Dana took Tristan’s part and watched over him, though their meeting had been unusual, to say the least. She even spoke to Tris as if she understood that he needed gentle handling.
Nothing about Dana St. Cyr was what Remy might have expected. But that didn’t change the facts. She had to get out of this swamp, and out of the parish.
“I’ll make a bargain with you, Dana” Remy said. “If you still think he needs to go to the hospital when we’re ready to leave in the morning, I’ll take him.”
Dana finished cleaning Tris’s leg with the alcohol and bandaged the wound with torn sheets and cotton towels. “There might be infection. I won’t change my mind.”
“I think it’s time to let my brother rest.”
“Yes.” Dana gathered up the remains of her makeshift medical kit and covered Tris’s leg. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, Tristan. Call if your leg starts feeling any worse, all right?”
Tris nodded, but it was apparent that he was fighting sleep. Once he was out, he would be out for hours. Remy guided Dana from the room and closed the door.
“Why are you afraid of the hospital, Remy?” she asked as soon as they were back in the kitchen.
Remy put on the coffeepot. “I’m not afraid of hospitals or doctors. We just don’t need them.”
“We? You and your brother? You’ve never been sick a day in your life, I suppose?”
“You said you came out here to find out what happened to Sally,” he said.
“Yes. But what does that have to do with—”
He turned on her, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. “I guess you haven’t been in town long enough to hear the rumors. Didn’t you know that the Arceneaux brothers are the chief suspects in Sally’s disappearance?”
Chapter 6
“What?”
“You heard me.” Remy sloshed hot coffee into a mug and gulped it down. “Everyone figures one or both of us had something to do with it. If they had any evidence…”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t want more rumors started because of you.”
Dana folded her hands on the table. “Did you have something to do with it?”
He laughed. “Why should you believe anything I tell you?”
“I don’t know. I can see you’ve been trying to protect your brother in some way, even from me.”
“Tris isn’t like other people. He’s sensitive, a dreamer. There were problems in school and afterward. He—” Hell, he’d been about to tell her things he’d never told anyone. “They could destroy him.”
He waited for more questions, the kind he couldn’t answer. But she held her silence and gazed out the black square of the window. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it. She was too damned brave for her own good.
“I’ve often wondered,” she said, “what it would have been like to have someone to care for the way you do for Tristan.”
He didn’t allow himself to consider the deeper implications of her personal revelation. “You mean you don’t think I’m a callous bastard for not taking him to the hospital?”
She met his eyes. “I don’t understand you, Remy. Is it my approval you want? I thought you were trying to get rid of me.”
For a skilled surgeon, she cut much too close to the bone. “That’s right. I don’t want you around here. Anyone in town would tell you the same, if Lacoste hasn’t already.”
“And I could vanish into the swamp as easily as Sally did.”
He couldn’t bear the calm, almost indifferent way she spoke of it. It made him sick, and at the same time he teetered on the edge of confiding everything to her.
And that would make him more certifiably crazy than Tris had ever been.
“You’d better go lie down if you want to be in shape to go back to town tomorrow,” he said.
“But how can I be sure you won’t murder me in my bed?”
“You can’t. Should I make some more strong coffee?”
She got up from the table and started for the hall. At the corner, she turned back and looked into his eyes.
“What happened to Sally isn’t a joke. Not to me. And I mean to find out what happened, one way or another.”
In the morning, almost every sign of Tristan’s wound was gone.
Dana looked under the loosened bandages one more time and finally admitted the obvious. Somehow, miraculously, the young man had healed overnight. There were faint, pale lines where the trap had cut into his skin. That was all.
She expected an “I told you so” look from Remy, but he was distracted by other concerns. He’d made up a small pack, including sandwiches and drinks and a number of other useful items for their trek back to town, though at least part of the way would be on the bayou. He didn’t show her a map. He evidently didn’t want her to remember the way to or from his sanctuary.
At her insistence, Tris remained in bed, though he made soulful puppy-dog eyes at her and seemed to want to say something important. Either he was painfully shy, or something was holding him back. After intercepting a stern look Remy intended for his brother, she thought she knew what that something was.
Remy was fiercely protective of his brother. Why? What was he trying to hide? Could there be any truth to his warning about their part in Sally’s disappearance?
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t believe either Remy or Tristan were involved in anything like murder. Even so, half of her conversation last night had been sheer bluster. She should be relieved to escape.
She went along quietly when Remy announced that it was time to go. He helped her into a small aluminum motorboat, cast off from the cypress-wood dock and started up the bayou. Their course followed a mile or two of twisting channels, and some time later Remy jumped out in shallow water and pulled the boat onto relatively dry ground. Then he led her cross-country until they reached an area that looked vaguely familiar from her venture with Chad.
Yesterday, however, she and Chad had been alone. Now the little patch of mud was swarming with men, some in the uniforms of local law enforcement, others in civilian clothing.
Remy stopped in his tracks behind a screen of willows, nostrils flaring. “I have to go,” he said. “You’ll be safe now.”
From you? she wanted to ask. But she spotted Chad among the men and realized there would be no more time for questions. When she turned to say goodbye, Remy was gone. She stepped out into the field.
Chad came rushing toward her. “Dana!” he cried. “Thank God you’re all right. You’ll never believe what happened—”
“You got lost,” she said. “It’s okay, Chad. I’m fine. I don’t know where your boat is, however.”
“Never mind about that.” Chad moved as if to embrace her but stopped at the last minute, frowning at the willow thicket. “How did you get back here?”
“I ran into an old fisherman who showed me the way.” Now, why had she found it necessary to lie? “Are all these people here for me?”
“I wasn’t going to take any chances with your life,” Chad said, grabbing her hand. “The swamp can be dangerous for people who don’t know it.”
Dana refrained from pointing out that Chad obviously didn’t know it, either. “As I said, I’m fine now. If you’ll introduce me to the man in charge, I’ll thank him for his trouble.”
“That would be Detective Landry of the Beaucoeur Sheriff’s Department. I’ll introduce you.”
She let Chad pull her away, noting with clinical interest that she felt nothing at his touch. Nothing at all. It wasn’t just annoyance with what he’d done yesterday. No, it was something else. Someone else.
Remy Arceneaux.
She thanked Detective Landry and the volunteer searchers, apologizing for pulling them out of their beds so early. Landry was quite gracious, but he studied her with an almost uncomfortable intensity.
“You didn’t happen to run into the Arceneaux brothers out here, did you, ma’am?” he asked.
It was much easier to lie to Chad than to this man with his knowing eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth. “As I told Chad, a fisherman helped me. I never did get his name.”
“I see.” Landry looked from her to Chad with a frown. “Well, you’re okay, and that’s all that matters. Unless you need to see a doctor, I’ll take you home now.”
“That’s not necessary—” Chad began.
“I think it’s best if the lady comes with me.”
“Don’t worry,” Dana assured Chad. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Chad gazed at her, a world of hurt in his eyes. “You’re angry.”
“Not at all. I’d just like a good night’s sleep.” She freed her hand from Chad’s grip. “Please don’t worry about me.”
“I swear I’ll make this up to you. We could fly out to New Orleans and get the best meal you’ve ever tasted.”
“Thanks, Chad. I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too long.” He graced her with his most charming smile. “I insist.”
Dana smiled politely and turned to the open door of Landry’s car. Chad stopped her.
“Did you find anything…about Sally?”
Dana’s heart skipped a beat. “How could I? I didn’t know where I was going most of the time.”
“Thank God you didn’t run into Arceneaux.” Landry closed the door, and Chad bent to the window. “Remember what I said about him and his brother. Don’t come back here alone, Dana.”
Whatever else he’d planned to say was lost in the car’s rumble as Landry drove along the well-defined ruts in the mud, leading a caravan of the other searchers. Aunt Gussie was at the door to meet her when Landry pulled up in front of the house.
“Mon Dieu,” Gussie said, knotting her apron in her fists. “Thank God you’re all right.” She searched Dana’s eyes and turned to Landry. “Thank you so much, Detective. If anything had happened—”
Landry touched her arm. “It’s all right, Madame Daigle. We didn’t even have to search. She found he
r way back on her own.”
“Oh, my.” Gussie grinned. “You’re a mess. Come and have some tea, and we’ll get you cleaned up. Detective, you want to come in for a bit? I just made a pecan pie.”
“Perhaps another time.” Landry glanced at Dana. “You take care, Doctor.”
“I will.” She shook Landry’s hand. “Thanks again.”
Gussie waved to the detective and hustled Dana into the house. Soon Dana was soaking in a warm bath, her hair clean and her clothing in Gussie’s washing machine.
Afterward she and her aunt enjoyed tea and pecan pie. Dana realized how famished she’d been. And when Gussie offered her a spot of bourbon with lunch, she also realized that the day’s events had rattled her much more than she’d suspected.
The drink gave her the courage to bring up the subject that had never left her mind.
“What do you know about the Arceneaux brothers?” she asked Gussie as they sat in the tiny living room.
“You didn’t see them in the swamp, did you?”
“I…I’ve heard about them,” she said carefully. “I’ve heard they have a reputation in town.”
“Reputation.” Gussie hunched her shoulders and worked furiously at her knitting. “All the Arceneaux in this part of the parish have a ‘reputation.’ Not that anyone sees much of them. Most of them are hermits, almost never come to town. But they’re said to be…strange. Not like other folk. Some even say they’re not to be trusted. Dangerous.”
Did Gussie know from personal experience? Had she ever suspected Remy or Tristan Arceneaux of being involved in her granddaughter’s disappearance? Dana could think of no way to ask.
But Gussie read her mind. “Some say,” she said softly, “that those brothers might have been with Sally right before she vanished.”
“Do you think they’re right?”
“I don’t know.” Gussie dropped her knitting and closed her eyes. “No one ever found anything. Only talk.” She sighed. “When Sally was in school, one of those boys was sweet on her. Chased after her everywhere but never did any harm. Sally was always nice to him. Felt sorry for him. Then Chad Lacoste came along and swept her off her feet.”