Into The Mist: A LaShaun Rousselle Mystery (LaShaun Rousselle Mysteries Book 4)

by Lynn Emery

  “Then I have to find out which kind is trying to establish a connection to my child,” LaShaun said, her voice shaking. “I don’t like the idea of either one talking to Ellie.”

  “Ah, you won’t have a choice. Any more than you did. Her training must begin. We’ll teach you,” Miss Rose added quickly when LaShaun frowned.

  “Even at her age there are things we can do and practice with her. Trust me, she’ll understand. Just like she understood with Beau. Justine, you’ll need those books we have for children. You know the ones. They look like Sunday School lessons.”

  “Yes, but they’re not for children Ellie’s age.” Justine took out her iPad mini, pulled out a stylus and started making notes.

  “Yes, she can’t read yet. Can she?” Pauline turned to LaShaun.

  “Single words like dog, cat, cow. Y’all are serious?”

  “We’ll have to improvise then. Use more pictures. Maybe flash cards,” Miss Rose replied in a mild tone.

  “Easy enough to do,” Justine said without taking her gaze from the computer.

  “Magical lessons for our baby. Chase is going to love this.” LaShaun couldn’t begin to fathom how to start such a conversation.

  Chapter 3

  LaShaun spent the rest of the weekend enjoying her family. She didn’t want to darken such a bright time with talk of spirits reaching out to Ellie. By Monday, LaShaun had convinced herself there was nothing to worry about. All it took was a single text message to wreck that notion.

  Ellie gurgled happily around a fist full of grits. She loved the warm cereal, though she got more on her face than in her mouth. Chase stood in the den before the television finishing up his second cup of coffee and watching the news. LaShaun hummed a tune as she began the task of cleaning up the baby and her high chair. When she glanced over, Chase frowned at his cell phone instead of looking at the television. He strode over to her, cell phone held out.

  “We’re going to need a sitter.”

  Two hours and three more urgent texts later from Chief Deputy Arceneaux, LaShaun followed Chase’s truck. They headed to the Vermilion Parish Sheriff’s substation near Cow Island, a small unincorporated community. Chase would be staying at work, so LaShaun drove her SUV instead of riding with him. They’d had only a few minutes to talk between calling around to arrange childcare, getting dressed and feeding Beau. They’d had to find a babysitter willing to take on a fussy toddler and a dog at the last minute. Tall order. Beau made it clear he would not leave Ellie’s side. Despite grumbling from Chase, LaShaun’s instinct told her to follow Beau’s lead. Azalei, LaShaun’s mouthy trouble-maker cousin, stepped up to the plate. Unemployed again because of her attitude and sharp tongue, Azalei arrived at their home with a girlfriend in tow. LaShaun had detailed written instructions by that time.

  Chase parked his Dodge Ram truck in his reserved space and waited for LaShaun at the door for employees only. “I can’t believe you let Azalei keep Ellie. Weren’t you the one always telling me she’s no good?”

  “Azalei has changed, well mostly. She’s great with kids. For money of course. Her problem is getting along with adults.” LaShaun grabbed Chase’s arm as they walked quickly through reception and toward Sheriff Godchaux’s office. “I don’t know what a crime has to do with me.”

  “Me either,” Chase replied low with a frown. He glanced around as they walked as if searching for a clue.

  MJ met them halfway down the hall before they went to the sheriff’s office. Tall and strong, Myrtle Jeanne Arceneaux had been the first female African-American Vermilion Parish Deputy. Guts, brains, and dogged determination led her to become Sheriff Godchaux’s Chief Deputy. She looked the part in black slacks, matching jacket, and a crisp striped shirt. MJ’s grim expression eased as she gave LaShaun a brief hug. After LaShaun helped with several unusual problems in the past, she and LaShaun forged a friendship.

  “Morning you two. Way to start a Monday, huh?” MJ said.

  “At least we had a wonderful weekend.” LaShaun sighed. Being summoned by Sheriff Godchaux meant the good times were over.

  “What the hell is this about?” Chase lowered his voice when a group of deputies and civilians passed them.

  “Best let the boss explain. Oh, and the FBI has been called, but they’re only consulting at this point. On standby in case we need them or this case crosses state lines.” MJ opened the glass door of Sheriff Godchaux’s office cutting off Chase’s next question.

  Detective Mark Anderson stood when they entered. He moved to stand next to the sheriff’s polished wood desk. His only greeting was a crisp nod designed to include all three of the newcomers. Dave Godchaux raked thick fingers through his iron gray hair as he looked up from the computer screen.

  “Give us a minute, Det. Anderson,” Dave said.

  After a few seconds, the younger man headed for the door. “Yes, sir.”

  When the door shut quietly with a firm thud, Dave blew out a puff of air. “Mornin’ Mrs. Broussard. I hear the baby is growing up fast.”

  “She is. Seems like yesterday I brought her home from the hospital.”

  LaShaun smiled as she sat down next to Chase. MJ remained standing, as if nervous energy made sitting uncomfortable. Dave sighed again, ruffled through papers on his desk and looked at the computer screen again. He seemed to consider how to begin.

  “We got a kidnapping, little girl, six years old. She was playing in the yard outside their house, a trailer home in that park off Slater Road.” Dave looked down at a sheet of paper. “Name of Clover Leaf Estates. The mother looked for her. She was gone.” Dave crossed his arms across his broad chest and sat back.

  “That was yesterday around lunchtime,” MJ said. “The mother came in this morning to report it.”

  Chase raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. A six year old goes missing in the middle of the day, and her mother waits until the next morning to report it?”

  “And why wasn’t the child in school?” LaShaun added.

  “We’ve had a few calls to the trailer park, Chase. Domestic disputes that turn violent, drug raids, the usual. Last week our deputies chased a couple of car burglary theft suspects down Slater Road to guess where?”

  “Clover Leaf Estates. Fancy name,” Chase replied.

  “The land owner tried to build a subdivision but went bust back in 2008. So being an enterprising sort, he opened a trailer park instead. Started off not so bad, but it’s gone down in the last six years.” Dave waved a hand. Then he slid a photo across his desk. “Anyway, the little girl’s name is Dina Menard.”

  “Her mother is twenty-five and has three other kids all younger than Dina. And you’re right, Dina should have been in school. The mother has an open child welfare case. Dina misses school a lot.” MJ held up a second photo. A woman with dirty blonde hair and watery blue eyes stared vacantly at nothing. “Her mother, Sherry Bradford. The father is Dylan Menard. They lived together off and on. Dylan has a history of abusing her.”

  “And an arrest history going back to when he was a juvenile. I know, because I picked him up a couple of times. The Menard extended family is trouble.” Dave scowled.

  Chase glanced from MJ to Dave. “Didn’t we bust a drug ring and put three of them away?”

  “Yeah, in 2011. Dylan’s father, one older brother and an aunt. The aunt served fifteen months. The other two are out as well,” MJ replied.

  “So you’re thinking maybe Dina’s disappearance is related to the family’s drug business?” Chase asked.

  “At this point it could be anything. Sherry isn’t an attentive mother by any stretch of imagination. She’s supposedly in a drug treatment program. But maybe she’s back with Menard and using again. The other wrinkle is Sherry has a brother who’s a registered sex offender. He lives a mile down the way.” MJ crossed her arms. “He’s in the lobby playing the part of the concerned uncle.”

  “So you’ve got a rich pool of suspects. Why are we here? No scratch that, why is my wife here?” Chase looked fro
m Sheriff Godchaux to MJ and back to his boss again.

  Sheriff Godchaux studied LaShaun before he answered. “The mother insisted on talking to you.”

  “Far as I know, we’ve never met,” LaShaun replied to the unasked question in the sheriff’s dark gaze.

  “Maybe you’re related or something. Could be she’s heard of…” Chase stopped when his boss raised a hand.

  “Sherry and the Menards are white,” the sheriff said.

  “I’m white along with the rest of my family, but Ellie is my baby. Lots of families have mixed extended kin, even if they don’t want to claim ‘em.” Chase crossed his arms.

  “There aren’t any Menards or Bradfords related to the Rousselle family. I’d know, Chase,” LaShaun said. “I don’t understand how she even knows to ask for me.”

  “Are you joking? You’ve been involved in three high profile murder cases in this parish. With full media hoopla I might add. Who doesn’t know about you and the hocus-pocus stuff.” Dave pulled a meaty hand over his face and sighed. “Miss Bradford isn’t charged with a crime. She can ask to speak to or be represented by anyone she likes. She chose you.”

  “Sherry won’t speak to the child welfare case worker or the lawyer family court assigned to represent her. She insists on talking to you. Alone.” MJ raised both eyebrows at LaShaun.

  Det. Anderson appeared at the door and entered when Dave nodded it was okay. “Tommy Bradford is kicking up a fuss. I handled him. He’s a real low life.”

  Chase covered LaShaun’s hand with his and looked at her. “You don’t have to talk to the woman. Let the detective assigned explain—”

  “Mark tried, for almost two hours,” MJ broke in. “She answered his questions for the most part. But now she only wants to talk to LaShaun.”

  “Something weird about all this, babe.” Chase squeezed LaShaun’s hand.

  “Every time LaShaun is involved, things are weird,” Sheriff Godchaux retorted. “So what else is new? Look, the mother isn’t too stable based on her history alone. I get that. But the damn clock is ticking and a little girl needs to be found.”

  “An Amber Alert has been issued. Dave’s partner is working to get billboard’s up with Dina’s picture if we don’t find her in the next couple of days or so.” MJ gazed at Chase and then LaShaun.

  “We’re not sitting around waiting for your wife to wave her hands and work some kinda magic, Broussard. Uniforms are out interviewing witnesses. Her lowlife uncle is at the top of the list.” Dave’s mouth turned down in a sour expression.

  MJ shot a glance at their boss. “But we’re not jumping to conclusions yet, right? Even if we don’t like sexual offenders.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We need solid leads. If the mother hasn’t told us everything, then you can help,” Dave said to LaShaun.

  She stood. “I agree. Take me to her.”

  “Ok, I’m out voted. I sure as hell don’t want my family dragged into a criminal investigation with folks like the Menards. They’re a mean bunch, and they hold grudges. Just saying for the record in case things go sideways.” Chase stood.

  “From what I recall, your wife can handle herself in tricky situations,” Dave replied dryly.

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” LaShaun gave him a half smile.

  “Yeah, well…” Chase squinted at her.

  “I’m going to talk to a distraught woman, mother to mother. Totally different from those other times. We’re in the middle of a sheriff’s station. Nothing will happen.” LaShaun tapped Chase’s hefty bicep.

  His only response was a grunt of cynicism. LaShaun knew his thoughts as if he’d spoken aloud. Chase and Sheriff Godchaux remained in his office. She followed MJ to the interview room deeper into the station’s interior. Det. Anderson disappeared for a few seconds and returned carrying a cup.

  “Not sure this is a good idea. I could get more out of her if we don’t give in to her demands I think.” Det. Anderson shot a side glance at LaShaun and then back to his boss.

  MJ gazed at him with an impassive expression. “Let’s do whatever it takes to bring this child home safe, okay?”

  “Of course,” Det. Anderson said after a beat of hesitation. He opened the door, nodded to the two women and then followed. “Here’s some water, Miss Bradford. You asked for Mrs. Broussard, so here she is.”

  Sherry brushed strands of limp hair back from her forehead as she blinked at LaShaun. Dark circles under her eyes stood out starkly from her pale skin. “You look taller and younger than I thought you’d be.”

  LaShaun smiled at her. “Could be the boots, two inch heels. I don’t’ know about looking younger though. I’ve probably aged since my little one started walking. Chasing her around is exhausting.”

  “Kids are hard. Not that I don’t love mine. But there’s always so much to do, and they’re screaming for food or about a toy.” Sherry closed her eyes. “Never stops.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing your best, Miss Bradford.” LaShaun sat across from her.

  “I am, though them social workers don’t believe me. I tried finishing school at the community college. But then I got pregnant with my second baby. Illegal immigrants keep takin’ all the jobs, so it’s hard to find work.” Sherry’s eyes narrowed as she twisted her hands together.

  “I see.”

  LaShaun didn’t bother to argue with the woman’s racist statement. Vermilion Parish has little to no problem with illegals, but facts wouldn’t persuade Sherry’s thinking. She needed someone to blame.

  “Tell us anything you might have left out about that day or the night of Dina’s disappearance,” Det. Anderson said.

  “I need to talk to you alone.” Sherry glanced at Det. Anderson and MJ. “And don’t listen in. I don’t want them to find out.”

  “What?” Det. Anderson took a step toward her. “Who are you talking about?”

  MJ put a restraining hand on Anderson’s arm. “Sherry, if you know or even suspect who has Dina, you need to tell us.”

  “Maybe they’re watching, but they might just think you’re visiting your husband or friends in here.” Sherry spoke low as if to herself. “Don’t know, but I have to try.”

  “We don’t have time for games. Explain what’s going on if you care about your kid,” Det. Anderson barked. “Or maybe you did something to her.”

  “I do care about my kids,” Sherry shouted. “Everybody keeps saying I don’t, but I do my best. You don’t know what it’s like. You look at me like I’m nothin’ but trailer trash, but I try so hard. I don’t get help from their no good daddies. Why don’t you blame them, huh?”

  “Of course you’re doing all you can,” LaShaun cut in sharply to head off another reply from Det. Anderson.

  “I told you I wanted to talk to her alone.” Sherry swiped away tears from her face.

  “We’re leaving. Det. Anderson.” MJ yanked open the door, jerked a nod for him to go first, and waited. When the tall man stomped out, the door shut behind them softly.

  LaShaun turned back to Sherry. “You grew up poor. Your parents have a lot of problems, so they were no help. Then you met Dylan, and he was nice at first, but y’all partied too much. Even so, you got off the drugs when you got pregnant the first time, right? With Dina I mean.”

  Sherry heaved a few breaths before regaining a small measure of composure. “Yeah. Dylan ain’t a bad person, not really. I, uh, got back on drugs then we broke up. He didn’t get too mad when I got pregnant for some other guy, my second baby Nathan. Not that first time. I had a miscarriage after that, and then… I swore my youngest was his. I’m sure he is.” She stuck out her chin as if daring LaShaun to question her.

  “Okay, so Dylan tries his best, but he keeps getting arrested, and you’re doing drugs again.”

  “I have a few beers once in a while. I got a right to relax with all I got on me.” Sherry frowned at LaShaun. “What do you know about it… with your fancy life? You people got it good.”

  LaShaun let the “you people” remark slide because o
f a missing child. Otherwise she would have set the woman straight with the quickness. Instead she counted to ten and leaned forward with an expression of empathy.

  “You’re under a lot of stress on a good day, and now Dina is missing. I get it. So these people you mentioned, they don’t want you talking to me.” LaShaun felt waves of fear coming from Sherry.

  “Old Mrs. Vincent down the road from me says you can see things. Tell things, like you just did with me. Knew my parents and everything before we even talked. You got to come to my house.” Sherry sprang to her feet. “We got to go now.”

  LaShaun stood. “The police will need to—”

  “I told them all I know. None of them can help me with this. Come on, let’s go. Mrs. Vincent says you will know what to do or find another voodoo woman who can help.” Sherry grabbed a dirty imitation leather handbag from the back of her chair.

  “Sherry, calm down.”

  “They’ve got Dina, I’m sure of it. That Det. Anderson don’t know what he’s talkin’ about. My brother didn’t take my girl. Tommy wouldn’t put a finger on her. He got that charge because he was seventeen and his girlfriend was almost fifteen. She got scared when her mama caught them together. We’re wasting time.” Sherry’s words tumbled out in a rush as she grabbed LaShaun by both arms. “You got to come to my house right now.”

  LaShaun looked into Sherry’s wild glazed eyes. Try as she might, LaShaun couldn’t summon enough psychic energy to push past the muddle of strong emotions. Regret mixed with guilt and craving for drugs. Despite what the young woman had said, Sherry hadn’t been telling the whole truth about her drinking, or drug use.

  “Not until you tell me why,” LaShaun said.

  “The symbols. All over the walls. They say you can read the signs. Maybe the ones what took Dina will bring her back, if you go to them.” Sherry heaved in great gulps of air.

  ****

  Forty-five minutes later they stood in the rundown single-wide trailer Sherry and her kids called home. One of about fifteen trailers in the park, the interior looked as dreary as the outside. At least the three main mini-streets of the trailer park were blacktopped. At some point the property owner had kept the site fairly decent. Those days were gone. Some of the yards were nicer than others. Sherry’s wasn’t one of them.