Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte

by Susan C. Muller

  Should Remy have recognized her work number? No, she didn’t tell him when she changed jobs. At the time, she’d gotten a perverse pleasure at keeping the information from him. Wasn’t that stupid? What if there’d been some emergency?

  She pointed to another number. “This one belongs to the Fontenots. They live down the street and Adrienne used to babysit for them. She hasn’t done that lately, not since his mother moved in with them.”

  Remy scrolled down the list. “Here’s the number I’m concerned about. It only appeared in the last few months. All the others, she’s talked back and forth with as far as the memory goes.”

  Gabby grabbed the phone out of his hand and began scrolling up and down, as if a name would magically appear. The only thing she learned was that Remy and Adrienne talked at least once a week. Why hadn’t she known that? Then she froze.

  “I don’t know this number. Who is it? Why has Adrienne been calling this person?” There went her voice again, inching up. Soon she’d be screeching. She took a deep swallow and handed the phone back to Remy. “Should we call and see who answers?”

  “Not yet. I’ll have Ruben trace the number first thing tomorrow. I want to be prepared with as much information as possible when the person answers. There’s not anything more we can do tonight, and we’re both exhausted. Let’s get some sleep. We need to be fresh in the morning.”

  He planned to go to sleep like nothing had happened?

  She set her mug of soup down harder than she intended and the sound reverberated through the small room. “Should we talk to the other girls? See if they know anything?”

  “It’s too late to go by tonight and they’ll just give me the brush-off on the phone. This calls for face time. Can you manage that same little trick you pulled at Evie’s?”

  Well, at least she’d done something right. “I’ll try. I’ll keep the mothers away as long as I can, but I only have time to glance in the other rooms. If she’s hiding under the bed or in a closet, I won’t see her.”

  “Watch for her backpack or her shoes. They won’t think to hide those. Now let’s get some rest. I need to stop at Wal-Mart first thing in the morning, before we start the interviews.”

  He wanted to go shopping? With Adrienne missing? He’d always fussed about his clothes, but this wasn’t the time to worry about how he looked.

  She finished her soup and set the mug in the sink. “Then you better get up early, because I don’t plan to wait for you.”

  Remy watched Gabby’s back as she stomped toward her room. He held his breath as the door slammed. Over the years, he’d gotten better at dealing with women, at least he liked to think so, but that didn’t help him now.

  He was quicker to recognize that Gabby was angry than he would have been in the old days, but he still didn’t know what he’d done to set her off or how to fix the problem. If she’d tell him why she was mad, he’d apologize—probably.

  Didn’t she know that every move he made, every thought that crossed his mind now, was to get Adrienne back?

  Without warning, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. His legs suddenly felt like banana pudding. His shoulders slumped. Now what was he supposed to do? He glanced around the house.

  He couldn’t sleep in Adrienne’s room, that would be like giving up on her, admitting defeat, and his one glance into Grand-mère’s old room indicated it had been turned into a sewing or craft room.

  His head jerked up when Gabby’s door opened. Boards creaked as she shuffled barefoot across the floor.

  “Here,” she said, tossing him a pillow and blanket. This time she didn’t slam the door, but the click of it closing was just as final. And just as painful.

  Guess that answered his question. The old sofa grinned up at him. Hell it wasn’t as if he hadn’t slept there before.

  What were the chances it had gotten any more comfortable over the years?

  Gabby tossed from one side of her body to the other. Ugh. She couldn’t find any position that felt right. First she yanked the covers up, then she kicked them off. Every night sound might as well have been a bullhorn or a train whistle.

  What was wrong with her? No. What was wrong with Remy? Hadn’t he learned anything over these years?

  He made his plans, then acted on them, never consulting her, never asking her opinion. When she told him what she wanted him to do, he got his back up and did the opposite.

  But maybe she was the one who hadn’t learned anything. Why did she have to get mad? If she wanted to know what he was doing, couldn’t she just ask him? She knew better than anyone how he felt about ultimatums, yet she kept dishing them out.

  Living here in Grand-mère’s house couldn’t have been easy for him all those years ago. That first night at supper he didn’t have any place to sit. He’d had to perch on a stool until they bought another chair at a garage sale. And they’d never had any privacy. The house only had the one window air conditioner at that time and they’d had to leave their bedroom door open or die of heat. She knew how deaf Grand-mère had been, but Remy claimed to have his doubts.

  Yet when he’d wanted to spend the weekend at his mother’s, she’d objected. She’d been too embarrassed by severe morning sickness.

  No wonder they hadn’t made a go of it. They were both so young that he still had braces on for their wedding pictures. But he’d acted like a man from the beginning, jumping in to help every way he could; fixing the fence, repairing the screen door that hung every time it rained, clearing the table and washing the dishes after every meal so she and Grand-mère could prop up their swollen feet.

  And always worrying about finding a job to support her and the baby.

  That was it in a nutshell, the reason she’d been attracted to him in the first place. Respect. She’d been such a frightened little bunny, afraid of her own shadow. While he’d seemed so strong, capable. Yet seeing the admiration in his eyes had taught her to believe in herself, that she was stronger than she realized.

  She had made it alone these last years only because he’d showed her she could.

  She strained to hear the sound of his breathing. Did he still have that little whistle when he slept on his back?

  Angry with him or not, she had to admit; having him here made her feel safer. And the one thing she’d never doubted was that she trusted him.

  Remy inhaled until his lungs protested. How could he have forgotten how much he loved Louisiana coffee? There had to be some store in Houston that sold the rich-flavored beans. Since Hurricane Katrina, whole sections of town now overflowed with New Orleans transplants.

  He’d eaten boudin sausage, crawfish etouffee, and gumbo worthy of the finest restaurant served in storefronts the health department would have padlocked if they could have found them. They were bound to sell chicory coffee.

  When had he turned back into such a Cajun? He’d spent years trying to erase every trace of his Louisiana heritage only to have it come rushing back within hours of crossing the Sabine River.

  He set his mug on the counter and faced Gabby. “Are you ready to go? I’d like to catch the girls this morning before they have time to scatter.”

  The look she shot him could have frozen molten lava.

  He tamped down a surge of frustration. She was the one who’d bitched last night about wasting time. Now she sipped her coffee like they had all day.

  Then he relented. The circles under her eyes appeared even deeper than last night. Had she managed any sleep? Yet even tired, she was the best thing he’d set eyes on since the Regan administration and his heart struggled to go places he refused to think about. Returning to Houston after they found Adrienne was going to be tough. He’d have to learn to forget her all over again.

  Gabby drained the remnants of her cup in a swift series of gulps and nodded. “Let me get my shoes and purse and I’ll be
ready.” She disappeared into the back room.

  He frowned. Why did Gabby still use the bedroom they’d shared? She could have moved into her grandmother’s old room; it was bigger, if not by much. Did she feel the need to stay close to Adrienne, or was this another example of her clinging to the past?

  Adrienne’s phone, which he’d stuck in his pocket when he got dressed, now started to vibrate. He yanked the cell out and stared at the number. The same one Gabby couldn’t identify last night.

  “Gabby, come here, fast!” He held the phone out, his heart thundering. Was this the break they needed?

  “What is it?” Gabby had on one shoe and limped toward him.

  “Here, answer the phone, but try and sound as much like Adrienne as possible.” He was a fool. They should have discussed this possibility last night, made a plan.

  “Hi,” she whispered, then tapped the speaker button so they both could hear.

  “Annie-pie, where have you been? I’ve been going crazy worrying about you. Why didn’t you come back last night? I should never have let you talk me out of going with you.” The voice sounded young, male, and desperate.

  “Who is this? Where is my daughter?” Gabby cried into the phone.

  So much for trying to sound like Adrienne, but how could he blame her? He’d have done the same thing.

  Silence, followed by a soft click and then the dial tone.

  Shit. What kind of trouble was his daughter in?

  Gabby’s eyes plead for forgiveness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I scared him away. Now we’ll never find her.”

  He put his arms around her and held her tight. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, and the sound pierced his heart. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” There was no point in making her feel worse than she already did. “That’s the most we could have hoped for. If anything, he might feel guilty enough to call us back.” He held her a second longer than necessary, inhaling her familiar scent.

  Gabby reached for his pocket, where he’d stowed the phone. “Let’s call him back. Maybe he’ll tell us something.”

  “Not yet. If we start bugging him, he’ll keep the phone turned off. I’ve already called one of the detectives I work with. He’s checking out the number.”

  Remy had the distinct impression that he’d interrupted something when he’d called Ruben early that morning, but the big guy had seemed genuinely concerned and had promised to get right on his request. Remy had no doubt wheels were already in motion.

  “Go find your other shoe, Gabby. We have several stops to make, and I want to be ready when Ruben calls back with the information.” Maybe they could wrap this up fast and get Adrienne home where she belonged. But his gut told him otherwise.

  Gabby chewed on her lip. “Whoever this guy is, if he’s calling her phone, he doesn’t have her or know where she is.”

  Damn. He hated it when she was right.

  Chapter 4

  Comeaux’s Wal-Mart looked just like every other Wal-Mart Remy had ever been in, if a little on the shabby side. That was probably the idea. If you could find shampoo or dog food in Houston, you could find it in Comeaux. Although he was willing to bet they carried more of the Cajun spices, maybe even alligator meat, than the one he used in Houston.

  He could see the steam coming out of Gabby’s ears. He’d better hurry before she blew, but why the hell did she care what he bought? It was his money.

  The store offered a good selection of hunting boots and he grabbed a pair, along with two pair of jeans and four T-shirts. He hesitated before adding a package of boxers and a bag of socks.

  If things went well, he’d have Adrienne back by nightfall and he’d be headed for home in the morning. If so, he could return today’s purchases in Houston. If not, he didn’t want to waste time coming back.

  Gabby had followed in silence until he headed for the dressing room. “Remy, what the hell are you doing? I thought you wanted to talk to Adrienne’s friends first thing today.”

  Whoa, Gabby must be mad if she actually used profanity, and in public.

  A woman with a young kid started for the dressing room but stopped and yanked the kid in another direction.

  He glanced Gabby’s direction and realized that embarrassment had made her even madder

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll explain,” he said, ducking into one of the stalls.

  Fifteen minutes later, wearing his new clothes, he led Gabby out of the store and across the parking lot.

  The car was already boiling and he switched the air conditioning on high but a thin bead of sweat formed at his hairline before the interior started cooling. He lowered the window as he pulled onto the street, hoping the breeze would blow the hot air out.

  He glanced at Gabby. She leaned against door and crossed her arms. Uh oh. He recognized that look. He’d better explain what he had in mind, and he better do it fast.

  “When my brother and I moved here, we learned pretty quickly the value of blending in. I learned to speak Cajun and suck the heads off crawfish. When I followed Marc to West Texas to work in the oil fields, we both started wearing cowboy boots and western shirts with the pearl buttons.”

  Oops. Wrong thing to say. She still hadn’t forgiven Marc for enticing him away, but what was he supposed to have done? He’d had to find a job, and there weren’t any in Comeaux. If she’d just followed like she’d promised they’d still be together, maybe.

  “Then I moved to Houston and signed up with the police academy.” Another place she could have joined him, but by then her grandmother was sick, and she’d found a job keeping books at the auto parts store, and then another year passed.

  Gabby could pitch a fit at any moment. He needed to hurry or watch their fragile truce crumble. “I didn’t really need the western clothes, but I was used to them.” Okay, the guys were right. He did like the extra inch or two the boots gave him. But it wasn’t vanity. The elevated heels gave him an advantage when dealing with scumbags.

  He glanced at Gabby. Her lips were pressed into a thin white line. Damn, he wasn’t explaining it right.

  “When you interview people, suspects or witnesses, you have to be a chameleon. The more you have in common with them, the better. In our squad, Tenequa can flip from the kid whisperer to Tenequa the Terrible in two seconds flat. Adam has these big, weight-lifter shoulders, but a pretty boy face and glasses. Ruben, well, he’s gigantic. They call him Poncho Grande, but not if he’s in the room. If he leans forward and raises his voice it’s like having a grizzly roar in your face. But he can just as easily sit back and lower his voice like singing a kid’s lullaby.”

  She sighed, and he glanced at her again. Her eyes were narrowed, but she hadn’t said anything so he kept talking while he drove.

  “I don’t appear threatening, unless I decide I want to, and I can act a lot of parts. I can play up my New Jersey accent, or throw in a little Cajun. I can be a good ol’ boy, or a badass cop. But here, in bayou country, western clothes and cowboy boots aren’t going to cut it. And when I talk to those girls today, I need to look and act like guys they see every day.”

  Another glance caught the scowl Gabby threw at him. Her voice had a tight, clipped edge when she spoke.

  “I don’t care what you need to buy to get ready. Just tell me what the plan is. Adrienne’s my daughter as much as yours. I have a right to know what’s going on. Don’t keep things from me.”

  That’s what all this was about? He hadn’t told her why he needed to go to the store? Hell, why didn’t she just ask? But maybe he should have thought to include her.

  Changing might not be that easy. Keeping things to himself was his MO. He’d been married to her for less than three years, a good part of that time living in different states. He’d been married to Cindy for less than two years, and he even worked alone. His partner had re
tired last spring.

  He wasn’t used to consulting with anyone, taking their feelings into consideration, discussing his plans. Learning to work with someone, his ex-wife no less, promised to be tough.

  He shot a quick glance Gabby’s direction. Hell, he’d better learn how fast.

  Remy parked the car in front of Margaux’s house. The aging, single-story, wood-framed home looked a lot like Evie’s, only a notch or two better. No paint chipped exterior, and the lawn appeared recently mowed. As they climbed the steps up to the front porch he didn’t sense any immediate danger of the foundation caving in, and the inside of the house smelled like red beans and rice, instead of wood rot.

  In the car, Remy had slipped Gabby the bottle of baby aspirin he’d grabbed at Wal-Mart. Once again, she drew the girl’s mother away with the excuse that she needed some water.

  Alone with Margaux, Remy watched as the girl twisted a strand of chestnut hair around one finger before finally answering his question. “Adrienne sat behind me in English on Wednesday, and she didn’t say anything about missing Thursday or Friday, although she did look a little pale. I just thought she was sick when she didn’t come to school. We don’t sit together at lunch anymore.”

  Margaux stared at the kitchen door where her mother had disappeared then mumbled, “Our schedules don’t mesh this semester.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  If he looked up the word opposite in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Margaux and Evie. Margaux might have been slim, but she certainly wasn’t thin. She had curves, and she knew how to use them. Her T-shirt fit like a second skin, and her shorts hung so low on her hips he worried they might fall off. Three to four inches of skin, including her pierced navel were exposed at the top of her shorts and he was afraid to let his eyes wander near the bottom edge.

  The term Jail Bait had probably been coined just for her.