Dark Paradise

by Angie Sandro

  I spin, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her up onto the lip of the hot tub. Her hands lift to wrap around my neck as she struggles to hold on. “That’s enough, Clarice.”

  Clarice gasps and scrambles backward, like a crab scuttling across the sand. A bit extreme for the situation, but I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. She stares, slack-jawed enough to be impressive if I trusted her not to bite. It takes a couple of seconds before I realize I’m not the subject of her awe. She’s looking over my shoulder. I follow her gaze and almost shit my pants.

  My voice cracks. “W-what are you doing here?”

  Chapter 4

  Mala

  Kill Spot

  It totally sucks to be short.

  Sheriff Keyes’s long legs outstrip mine. He disappears down the path, and I try to keep up. Even Bessie passes me. Shouts come from up ahead. I burst into the clearing, gasping for air. Colorful spots dance in front of my eyes. God, I need to work out more. It takes a few seconds before I see George hanging from the branch of a tree with the thrashing body of an alligator directly below him. He drops to land a few inches from the gator’s mouth. My heart lurches when the head jerks, its teeth snapping shut.

  George shouts, kicking the gator in the snout, and lunges backward. The animal’s dead, not stunned, but I can’t fault George for being freaked since even in death those teeth almost took a huge chunk out of his calf. The still-twitching creature stretches a good twelve feet from snout to tail. He’ll net about fifteen hundred dollars if we get him on ice before the meat goes bad. To hit the quarter-size kill spot at the back of the creature’s skull in the dark—well, the word “miraculous” comes to mind.

  Sheriff Keyes slaps George on the shoulder. “Damn! Nice shot.”

  George staggers. His legs fold, and he slumps to the ground to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest. “Thanks, Sheriff. It came up out of the water so fast…” He pauses and looks around. His eyebrows draw up as if surprised to find he has such a large audience. “One minute, I’m on the ground, and the next, up in the tree. I don’t even remember aiming the gun before I pulled the trigger.”

  Sheriff Keyes shakes his head. His rotund belly stretches his duty shirt so much when he chuckles that I fear he’ll pop a button. “Well, that’s quick thinking. It probably saved your life. Training doesn’t mean a damn thing in this line of work if you don’t have the instinct and good sense to use it.”

  George ducks his head. “Sir, I didn’t do anything special.”

  “You let me be the judge of that, Deputy Dubois.” The sheriff walks toward the body, saying over his shoulder “See there, Mala Jean. You didn’t have to worry about George freaking out after all.”

  I swallow hard, blushing. God, I hope George didn’t catch—

  “What did he mean by that?” George looks a little pasty in the faint light. Shock can do funny things to a person.

  “It means I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I drop down next to him. “You’re lucky you didn’t get a chunk taken out of your ass. I told you not to stand too close to the water.”

  He holds his hands over his face, and his body trembles. He glances over his fingers to meet my eyes. “Shit, Mala, stop yelling. I’m fine.”

  Crap, I hadn’t even realized I’d lost control. It’s just…if anything had happened to him…

  Dr. Rathbone crouches beside him. “Are you going to be okay, son? You’re not gonna throw up, are you?”

  “I’ve got Georgie, Doc.” I pat George on the back. “Why don’t you do what you came out here for and check out that girl’s remains? She’s not getting any fresher from lying in the mud.”

  Dr. Rathbone gives me a hard look but doesn’t utter a peep. I’ve never cared for the man. Elections are held every four years for parish coroner, and he’s won for the last twelve without anyone running against him. Rumors float around town about him taking bribes and being selective on whom he chooses to autopsy. Bessie nearly foams at the mouth whenever she has a case that gets kicked out of court for lack of evidence simply ’cause the doc can’t be bothered to do his job, but the sheriff sticks by his friend. Good ol’ boys.

  Dr. Rathbone stalks over to stand next to Sheriff Keyes. They begin whispering and gesturing at the deceased. Then Keyes gives Bessie and the crime scene techs orders to start setting up. Soon the whole area fills with light from their big lanterns.

  George swats my hand aside, like it’s a pesky mosquito. “I’m fine, Malaise.”

  My hand clenches into a fist at my side. “Are you sure about that? You still look a little green.”

  “I said I’m fine. You don’t need to coddle me.”

  Logic tells me that his anger and embarrassment over his loss of control in front of the other officials, especially the sheriff, is directed toward himself, like mine was earlier, but he proceeds to take it out on me the same way I turned my frustration on him.

  I take a deep breath, trying to cool my temper. “Just trying to help. No big deal.”

  George shoots a glare over his shoulder. “No big deal? If I needed help looking even more incompetent than I already feel, I would’ve had my mother come out to hold my hand.”

  I throw my hands in the air. “Don’t be stupid. I don’t think you’re incompetent.”

  “No? Well, everyone else does, thanks to you.” He pushes to his feet and dusts off his pants. “Why don’t you go home? Your mama’s probably worried sick. If we need help, I’ll send someone for you.”

  My face flushes. He knows darn well that Mama doesn’t care where I’ve gotten off to. He just wants to share the humiliation. Stupid, stupid me. It takes all the strength I can dig up inside me to practically beg “Can’t I stay and help work the crime scene?”

  “You’re not trained for this. Legally you’re a liability, and in reality, you’ll just get in the way.”

  * * *

  Dawn finds me curled up in the rocking chair on my sagging front porch with a cup of coffee and sleep-deprived eyes. I’d been too wound up over finding Lainey and fuming over Georgie’s jerk-move to get any sleep. True to his word, George sends Bessie to the house, rather than showing his face in front of me again. The coward. When she steps out of the trees and heads in my direction, I go inside to warn Mama so she can hide in her bedroom from her least favorite law woman. We don’t think Mama has any outstanding warrants for her arrest, but it’s better to be safe now than sorry in lockup for thirty days.

  I meet Bessie on the porch steps with a steaming cup of coffee. Weariness sits heavy on the detective’s broad shoulders. Skin like polished mahogany glistens with perspiration, and she wipes her forehead on a large handkerchief. “Gonna be another scorcher.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sorry to do this, but I need you to come to the station so I can get your witness statement on tape. Just explain how you came across Lainey while the details are fresh in your mind.”

  I stifle a sigh, knowing my job. It’s why I studied the body so thoroughly, even though the sight made me want to vomit. “I know. I’ve been expecting it. Every time I close my eyes, I see Lainey Prince’s glazed eyes and smell the stink of her blood.” I take a deep gulp of my coffee, hissing when it burns my tongue.

  “Yeah, you look worn out. You did a good thing, dragging her out of the water and all. You could’ve left her there. Nobody would’ve been the wiser.”

  “I couldn’t stomach living with myself if I’d left her there, Bessie,” I say softly. “Her family deserves to have peace of mind. How much longer before you’re done out there?”

  Bessie takes a sip of her coffee. “We moved the body to the morgue. Andy brought out Rex. I tell you, that dog can sniff out blood from miles away. With the way the girl bled, it shouldn’t take long to find where she cut herself before entering the water.”

  Saints, I hope she didn’t kill herself on our land. We own five acres of prime swamp. The house stands on the highest hill, a fragile peninsula in the middle of all that water, on a cl
eared half acre. Only our gravel road provides entrance in or off our property, unless you count traveling by airboat through the bayou. Rex will find her car in no time.

  Speaking of, only one patrol car remains parked on the side of the driveway bordering the woods. If Andy and his K-9 had driven out, then—“What happened to the other cars?”

  “Sheriff Keyes and I rode in together. He and George went to give the death notification to the Prince family. George will come back to pick us up in a couple of hours. If you’re feeling up to it after the interview, Maggie said she’ll make you lunch.”

  Ha! Score. I’d throw myself in front of a bus for a batch of Maggie’s blueberry muffins. I guess seeing my best friend makes up for having to ride to town with George, but unlike him, Bessie trusts my judgment. So does the sheriff. I won’t disappoint them by acting like an idiot just because I have to breathe the same air as Deputy Dubois.

  * * *

  I take a long shower that steams up the bathroom. The hot spray beats into the kinked muscles in my back, working loose knots of tension I hadn’t realized I had. I lean my head against the tiles and close my eyes. The image of Lainey Prince floating in the water invades my thoughts. Even though I never met her in life, the whys of her death haunt me. Why did she kill herself? Why did I find her? From what Georgie said, she had parents who loved her and provided everything she needed: food, clothes, shelter. Maybe she killed herself once she grew up and learned how rough life could be. Still, what could’ve been so bad?

  I shake off my gloomy mood. As I step out of the tub, cold air slides around my body, and goose bumps rise on my arms. Shivering, I wrap the towel around my shoulders. Steam covers the mirror, and I swipe the edge of the towel across it. Eyes of cobalt blue, wide and staring, meet mine.

  I scream, jumping back. My foot slips in a puddle, and I fall to my knees.

  “Mala?” Mama must have jumped from the bed the second I screamed. She jiggles on the handle. “You okay?”

  My heart races. Never in my life have I felt such deep, overwhelming fear. I can’t think. The air feels thin. I can barely breathe, and what breath does come out crystallizes in the air. Panicked, I try to stand. My feet slip on ice. The top of my head slams into the underside of the sink, and I fall back again. Sparkles flash in front of my eyes as I cry out.

  “Mala, answer me!”

  Cold seeps down my palms and into my bones. “Mama, help!”

  “Unlock the door.”

  The chill worms its way up my arms and legs and settles as a heavy weight on my chest. I start to hyperventilate, dragging air into my lungs in short gasps. Tears well up in my eyes, hard frozen shards that ice my eyelashes together.

  “Please, please, Malaise.”

  “I can’t—” I stare at the door, willing Mama to open it. Why doesn’t the doorknob turn? The popped button proves it’s unlocked.

  “Open the door. Please, baby,” Mama yells, pounding on the door.

  Why can’t I move? I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a deep breath. It catches in my chest. My vision blurs…

  …then darkens.

  Chapter 5

  Landry

  Hold Together

  Deputy George Dubois, legendary prick of all pricks, stands by the back gate with his thumbs hooked in his duty belt. His expressionless face means he definitely saw Clarice with her hand down my boxers. I throw a grimace in Clarice’s direction, but she’s staring at the water. Damn right! She’d better be embarrassed trying to give me a hand job without asking permission first.

  George nods to Clarice. “I need to speak with Landry in private.”

  She grabs her clothes off the ground. It takes less than ten seconds for her to abandon me to deal with the fallout alone. How is it I always end up taking the blame for her stupid ideas? You’d think after twenty years I’d know better.

  “Landry…”

  I meet his gaze. “What did you say?”

  “I need to speak with your parents.”

  “Sorry, Dad’s in Lafayette, and Mom’s asleep. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?” The hope in my voice makes me cringe. He stares at me with cold green eyes, and I shiver. “Come on, Deputy. Give me a break. This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Why am I making excuses? I’m an adult. I signed up for the draft. I’m in college. I’m not the kid he used to babysit, but suddenly I’m twelve again when George says, “Stop dicking around, Landry. Sheriff Keyes is waiting for us out front.”

  Mom’s gonna skin me alive. I rise and walk toward him. The closer I get to George, the less intimidated I feel. I’ve got three inches and about fifty pounds on him.

  But he’s got a gun.

  I grab a towel off of the deck chair and wrap it around my waist. I’m about to go inside when I turn back around to beg George for a pass one last time. I catch the deputy at a vulnerable moment. Deep lines are etched around his eyes. It feels like he rams his fist in my gut. Why would Sheriff Keyes be here? He’d only want to speak to Mom and Dad if something bad happened. It doesn’t make any sense. My palms begin to tingle. The sensation travels up my arms then spreads through the rest of my body. I’m about to jump out of my skin. Lainey…oh, God.

  A gust of cold air chills my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. “I know why you’re here. It’s Lainey. She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Silence falls over the yard, but I still have to strain to hear George’s whispered “Yes.”

  The sound of glass shattering whips my head around. Mom stands in front of the screen door. The drink-filled tray she’d been carrying dangles from her fingers. Broken shards of glass litter the concrete.

  “Momma,” I choke on the word, breathing hard.

  Her mouth opens, and a keening wail cuts the air…like a knife…each scream jabs deeper and deeper into my chest.

  My throat tightens around my own cries. They fight to get free. To release the pressure building inside my chest, but I hold them in. I have to be strong.

  Mom takes a step forward and stumbles. I lunge for her, but I’m too far away. George catches her as she falls, scooping her up in his arms like she weighs no more than an infant.

  My legs don’t catch my forward motion. I drop to my knees. Pain stabs my hand, and I look at my palm, dazed. I yank out the sliver of glass. Blood oozes from the puncture wound and drips to the ground. The dime-size crimson splatter widens. Now it’s the size of a quarter…a silver dollar.

  “Landry, I need your help. Your mom’s cut herself,” George yells from inside the house.

  I tear my eyes from the blood and push to my feet. My thoughts are fuzzy. I feel disconnected, as if I’m watching from outside of myself. I step carefully to avoid the rest of the glass and pause in the doorway, letting my eyes adjust. Sheriff Keyes sits on the sofa next to Mom. He has his arm around her shoulder and pats her back as she cries—and it’s not her usual ladylike misting of the eyes that she dabs away with tissue during sad movies—I mean, she bawls, as in snot dripping and tears streaming over the sheriff’s starched, khaki uniform shirt. It’s a total loss of her vaunted self-control. I’ve never seen her break down before, and it makes the situation even more surreal. ’Cause Lainey being dead, it’s bullshit!

  The more I think on it, the more I know for sure. Lainey can’t be dead. I saw her not more than half an hour ago in the garage. Sure she looked kind of filmy and way too quiet, but she didn’t look dead. And that stupid itch…fleas. The cat brought the parasites into the house. Sasha’s always hunting mice and dumping them on our beds. Bet one crawled up my nose while I was sleeping, and that’s why my brain itches.

  Lainey can’t be dead.

  A sound breaks into my thoughts. It takes a second for words to form from the meaningless mutters.

  “Landry…” That’s my name.

  I blink then focus on George. “What?”

  “Snap out of it.”

  “Out of what?” My gaze travels back to Mom. She’s stopped wailing and now clings to the
sheriff, shuddering and hiccupping. A shadow crosses my vision. How long have I been standing in the doorway? In a towel. Surrounded by broken glass. Barefoot.

  I shake my head. “What the hell?”

  George grabs my sandals from beside the doormat. He holds them out to me. I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to do with them. Does he want me to go with him somewhere? Didn’t Sheriff Keyes tell Mom they found Lainey? Where is she?

  My head’s killing me. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my palm against the throbbing vein between my eyes. Hands lift my leg. George slips first one foot then the other into the sandals. “Why don’t you go sit beside your mom?” he says.

  He takes my arm, and I let him lead me to the sofa. I sit next to Mom with my hands folded between my legs so they don’t shake. Sheriff Keyes continues to rock Mom like a colicky baby. His voice is too low for me to hear what he’s saying to comfort her. I guess he and George decided to split us into easily handled chunks, but it wasn’t necessary.

  “I’m fine,” I whisper.

  “No. You’re not. Where’s your first aid kit, Landry?” George asks.

  I glance down at my injured hand. The bleeding has stopped, but dirt crusts the puncture wound. I’d better wash it out with peroxide so it doesn’t get infected. I’d hate to get my hand amputated for a stupid reason like gangrene.

  Oh, yeah. Mom got hurt too.

  Her foot’s propped on the table with a bloody dishtowel wrapped around it. I stand up and walk toward the staircase. George puts out his hand, and I ram chest first into his palm. I hold my breath against the pain in my ribs.

  “Damn it, that hurts.” I smack his hand aside.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For the first aid kit. It’s in the upstairs bathroom.”

  “I’ll get it.”