Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte

by Susan C. Muller

  “That’s the one.”

  “How about here?” Her hands moved lower.

  “That one, too.” Had she heard the tremor in his voice?

  She pressed her body, wet and slick, against his back as her hands moved around to his chest. “Have you washed here yet?”

  “I haven’t had time to get to the front half. I think it’s pretty dirty.” It was looking less likely that he’d have to sleep on the sofa tonight.

  “Then let’s take care that.” She took the soap from his hand and worked up a lather before completing the job she had started.

  “Your turn,” he said, facing her. “You were in and out of here so fast you might have missed a spot or two.”

  He used shampoo instead of soap, it made more suds, and ran his hands over her body, lingering on the most interesting spots.

  He leaned down and found her mouth, eager and waiting and tasting of peppermint toothpaste. As hot water streamed over their bodies, he lowered them both into the old claw-foot tub. She straddled him and he bent his knees so she could lean against his thighs.

  Suddenly she squealed as a blast of frigid water cascaded over them. What a time for the hot water to run out. Her body shivered against him as he bolted up and groped for the faucet.

  A smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the tub. He might need all night, but he planned to make sure every inch of her was warm and dry.

  They’d had an exhausting day, and a long, energetic night, so Remy wasn’t surprised when they slept late. He slipped out of the bedroom, his bare feet silent on the cold wood floor, and grabbed his forgotten boxers off the bathroom mat.

  The coffee had just started to brew when the garbage truck rounded the corner, breaks squealing. Slipping on his jeans, but not taking time to fasten them, he ran, still barefoot, out to drag Gabby’s can to the curb. When he swung around, Mrs. Perkins from next door stared at him open-mouthed, her hand on her own trashcan.

  There went Gabby’s reputation.

  “Want me to get that for you, Mrs. Perkins?” he asked.

  “Why, thank you, Remy. You always were a gentleman.” She smiled and winked.

  Maybe Gabby’s reputation was safe, after all.

  Once back inside, he heard the coffee gurgle, filling the kitchen with a heavenly aroma. He poured a cup for himself and one for Gabby then set both on a tray he found under the counter and carried it into the bedroom.

  The bed sagged as he sat on the edge. “Gabby, chère, it’s time to wake up.”

  Gabby took one look at him and gasped. “Oh, shit.”

  What the hell? Not again. Not after last night.

  She bolted upright. Coffee cups flew into the air and hot liquid hit him square in the chest, then ran down into his jeans. He jumped off the bed, causing coffee to pool on the sheets.

  “Oh, shit, oh, shit,” Gabby repeated. “I should have been at work ten minutes ago. My boss is going to kill me.”

  The sheet had dipped below one breast and he eyed her shamelessly. “If you go like that, he’ll probably forgive you.”

  “What? I’m not going to work. Not with Adrienne missing.” She saw where he was staring and pulled the sheet up, only to have it fall down again a second later.

  “Why don’t you call in sick while I make us some more coffee?” He took one last look before heading for the kitchen. Gabby’s body wasn’t a sight he wanted to forget if she sent him packing once Adrienne was safe.

  Gabby couldn’t figure out what to put on. She had no idea what the plan was for today, but if it involved tromping through the woods, she didn’t want to be wearing sandals. Her feet and ankles stung with tiny scratches, and one toe had a thorn embedded deep enough that she wasn’t sure how to get it out without help.

  She stared blankly into her closet, killing time. She wasn’t in any hurry to face Remy.

  So many thoughts swirled around in her head she felt dizzy. Was Adrienne truly safe? What could her disappearance have to do with some scuz-bag of a drug runner?

  And then there was last night, and Remy. She’d seen him eyeing the bedroom and then the sofa. If he’d decided he didn’t want her and had slept on the sofa his rejection would have been more that she could handle. As it was, being with him, sleeping with him, was all temporary. He’d be gone as soon as they had Adrienne back, safe and sound.

  If he left her again, she’d manage. She had before. But the thought of learning how all over filled her with sadness. For now, she’d take what she could get. She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten in the shower with him. But the night was worth the embarrassment.

  He was probably used to women like that; bold and adventurous. She seldom had reason to call him now that Adrienne was almost grown, but she’d learned to call his office or cell if she didn’t want to hear a woman’s voice.

  Her favorite jeans were over the back of a chair so she slipped them on and grabbed a bright blue blouse, one she’d received several compliments on. She could worry about shoes later.

  She gathered the coffee-stained sheets and carried them to the washer. When she had the machine sloshing and humming along, she returned to the kitchen.

  Remy handed her a fresh cup of coffee and a piece of toast. “It’s not much, but we’re about out of food. We may need to stop by the store on our way back from the sheriff’s office.”

  Her stomach clenched. Good as it smelled, one slice of toast and a little coffee was about all she’d be able to manage until all this was over and her life was back to normal.

  Remy watched her nibble on the toast. “Did you get hold of your boss?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s all heart. He gave me the day off for ‘personal reasons,’ but if I’m not back to work by tomorrow, he’ll dock my pay. And if I don’t make our Thursday morning meeting, I’m fired.”

  Remy studied the bottom of his cup. “Then we’ll have to find her before Thursday.”

  So he was worried she might lose her job, and what? Expect him to take care of her? “I hope so. Thursday night is Adrienne’s graduation.” Gabby heard her voice catch as a lump formed in her throat. “I want to see her walk across the stage. The principal said we could take her place if we wish. What do you think?”

  His phone rang before he could answer.

  “Hey, Adam, what did you find out? Let me put this thing on speaker so Gabby can hear.” He pushed a button and Adam’s familiar voice came through. She was surprised how much the sound reassured her.

  “Narcotics nearly crapped themselves when they heard all the information we collected. They’ve been after this gang all year. The plate number the maid gave us came back to a kid who’s rising fast in the organization.”

  “I’m so happy we could make them look good.” Sarcasm dripped from Remy’s voice.

  “You will be when I tell you the best part. This all ties back to a gang shootout that left three dead. A bunch of Katrina transplants who settled here and tried to muscle into the drug trade. It’s one of Tenequa’s cold cases. Hard Luck gave us the green light to keep working on this. We can even come back to Louisiana if we need to. Now that the A team’s on this full time, we’ll get your daughter back for you and make you look like a hero. Hell, I’ll even let you sit next to me at the tickertape parade, if you’ll buy a decent suit. I told you never to question the dynamic duo.”

  A grin split Remy’s face, his teeth showing white against his dark stubble, but she still had her doubts.

  What did all this mean for her daughter? If Adrienne had stumbled across these violent gang members, was she in hiding or dead? And what did a positive pregnancy test have to do with any of this?

  Chapter 16

  Heat radiated off the hood of the car in waves and it wasn’t even eleven. Remy didn’t want to think how it would fe
el by two. He and Gabby watched the sheriff’s station from a block away, but the sun glinted off the grimy window and he couldn’t see who was inside.

  Only one patrol car sat in front, but so did the shiny, black Hummer. That’s all he needed to know.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea? You said they were uncooperative and seemed to resent you.” Gabby peered down the street toward the cinderblock building. “I could go in alone.”

  “No, we both have to go in. I don’t need them to be cooperative. I just need to let them know we intend to stay on their ass about this.”

  He glanced at Gabby. She was as beautiful as ever, but she wasn’t a trained police officer. He hated to ask, but he needed her help.

  Was that why he hated to ask, or was his reluctance due to jealousy, possessiveness, the thought of those yahoos ogling her? He didn’t have the right to those emotions.

  “For our plan to work, the sheriff has to be flustered, distracted, if only for a moment. Do you think you could . . .? Would you be willing to . . .? I need you to unbutton the top button of your blouse.”

  She stared at him, her mouth open in surprise.

  “Maybe even the top two buttons.”

  Her eyes widened as his intentions dawned on her. Would she be offended? Did she trust him enough to go along?

  She bit the corner of her lip as if considering, then reached up and undid her blouse and finger-combed her hair. She freshened her makeup as he eased the car to the front of the building.

  He shut off the engine as she spritzed herself with a tiny, purse-sized bottle of perfume. Between the perfume and the open cleavage, concentrating was tough, but he whispered in her ear as he helped her from the car. “I’ll bet you’re not too happy about your ex-husband barging in and throwing his weight around.”

  “I think I can remember what being pissed at you feels like. I won’t need any special acting skills.”

  No point asking what she meant by that.

  The front door to the station hung as it had the first time he came and he nudged it with his hip. Potbelly sat with his feet up, drinking coffee. Had he even moved since he stopped by on Saturday?

  “We’re here to see the sheriff.” Remy shoved the swinging gate and it flew back, smacking into the wall and sending the pegboard holding the cruiser keys tilting precariously to one side.

  Gabby followed him down the hall, close on his heels.

  “Wait a minute. You can’t go in there.” Potbelly struggled to sit up.

  “Wanna bet?” Remy headed toward the sheriff’s office without slowing down.

  The sheriff must have heard them coming. Remy found him sweeping papers into his desk drawer.

  “I should have known it was you.” The sheriff’s face darkened in anger. “Barging in here like you owned the place. Don’t they teach you any manners over in Houston?”

  “Not when it comes to my daughter. You said she’d be back in time for school on Monday. Well, it’s Monday, and she’s not here. What are you doing about it?” Remy let his voice rise with each word.

  Gabby hung back, near the door, as if embarrassed to be seen with him.

  The air conditioning hummed, but spit out only tepid air. If it was this hot in May, July and August must feel like a sauna. Potbelly and the Sheriff had both switched to their summer, short-sleeved uniforms. Maybe they weren’t as stupid as he was counting on.

  “We’ve sent bulletins out across the state. We’ve even checked with surrounding localities and hospitals. We’re doing everything we can.”

  Remy took a step back and paced the room, his hands jammed in his pockets. Come on, honey, your turn. Flash a little tit. Not much, just a glimpse.

  Gabby crossed the room and bent toward the sheriff, her voice a breathy whisper. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. He just pushed his way in. He’s really upset about Adrienne, we both are. I’m sure you understand.” She reached into her bra and drew out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes.

  Remy palmed the plastic disc in his pocket before removing his hands then stood at the corner of the desk nearest the far wall. He slapped his hands onto the desk, one in the front, and one halfway up the side edge as he leaned into the sheriff’s face, so close he could smell the man’s fear, and the sausage he had for breakfast.

  “Enough of this bullshit.” Remy leaned even closer. “Why aren’t you driving around, knocking on doors, looking for my daughter? I understand you have a growing drug problem around here. You could start with the known dealers and their associates.”

  The sheriff’s face turned crimson. He made sputtering sounds in his throat. “You, get out of my office. Now! Mrs. Hough, I will let you know immediately when we have some information about your daughter. Rest assured, we are pursuing this vigilantly.”

  Yeah right. “See that you do. We’ll be back every day until our little girl is safe at home. You haven’t seen the last of me.” Remy swung around and stormed back the way he came. The swinging gate was still squeaking as he pushed through again.

  For good measure, he slammed the front door behind them hard enough to rattle glass.

  As soon as Gabby closed the car door, he pealed out, burning rubber. He didn’t slow down until he turned the corner.

  Gabby threw her head back and laughed. “That was almost fun.” She stuck her chest out and made her voice low and breathy. “‘Oh, sir, can you help little old me?’ Do you think I can use that at Ollie’s next time I need my car repaired?”

  “Ollie wouldn’t stand a chance.” Neither would any red-blooded male.

  “Did you plant the bug?”

  “Right under the edge of his desk, near the telephone.” Something nagged at a far corner of his mind. What was he missing? He worried with the question for a minute then let it go. The answer would come to him when it was ready.

  “Do you think we shook him up enough that he’ll make a call?” Gabby’s voice sounded eager, and the excitement had put a flush in her cheeks.

  “I’d bet my pension he’s in there right now dialing up his buddies.” What Remy wasn’t willing to bet on was that he’d installed the program correctly on his laptop. Adam hadn’t been exactly helpful with the instructions.

  Gabby watched Remy from the corner of her eye. He had newspapers spread out all over her kitchen table. His head tipped forward as he cleaned not one, but two guns; the big one he carried against the small of his back and a smaller one she hadn’t known about that he kept strapped to his ankle.

  Only a week earlier she would have been incensed that he’d brought those things into her house. Now the weapons felt strangely reassuring.

  Her kitchen reeked of gun oil and cleaning solvents. Even the sauce piquante she had bubbling on the stove couldn’t drown out the stench.

  She stood behind him, watching his hands work. Any stranger would have thought him calm, but she recognized the tension emanating from his tightly bunched shoulders.

  “Will you need those tonight?” She tried in vain to keep the concern from her voice.

  “Nah, they won’t even know I’ve been there.”

  “But anything can happen. I keep thinking of Dan Cryer tearing out of his door with that shotgun pointed at you. What if he’d pulled the trigger? I nearly died of fright when you knocked the gun out of his hands.”

  “I wasn’t in any danger.” Remy smiled that smile that cut through all her defenses, and she wanted to hit him. How dare he take that attitude?

  She bristled, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t give me that. He had the barrel inches from your face.”

  “I’d love to sit here and pretend I’m some sort of big hero, but the truth is, the gun wasn’t racked. You can’t fire a shotgun unless it’s racked.”

  “What does that mean?” Was he trying to confuse her so she wouldn’t ask an
y more questions?

  “You cock a pistol and rack, or pump, a shotgun. It moves the shell into place for firing.”

  “And just how do you know it wasn’t racked?”

  “Okay, I didn’t know, but that’s the logical answer. He had it propped by the front door. Too many people come in and out that door to have it ready to fire. That’s too dangerous with kids in the house. Plus, if he wants the shotgun for protection, he’d lose the best part if he racked it ahead of time.”

  He scooted his chair back and mimed holding a shotgun. “If someone you don’t know or don’t trust comes to your door, you rack the shotgun, like this.” He moved one hand down and up then continued.

  “It makes a very distinctive sound. Kind of ch-ching, and the person on the other side of the door knows exactly what just happened. End of problem without firing a shot.”

  She punched him on the shoulder. “I was so scared I almost peed my pants.”

  He had the nerve to laugh. “Well, that’s another way to get rid of unwanted visitors.”

  Still, he hadn’t known for sure it wasn’t racked when he’d slapped that gun away and Dan Cryer was three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier even if fifteen of those pounds were fat.

  “Are you positive we need to do this? It’s a lot more dangerous that Dan Cryer.” Gabby heard the concern creep back into her voice.

  Remy scooped up his cleaning supplies. “I can’t think of another way. Sheriff Guidry is too cagey to say anything incriminating in his office. So far he’s made one suspicious phone call and spent the rest of the day playing video Black Jack. I don’t know how he seems to have so much money considering what a bad player he is.”

  “Can you speed through the part of the tape where no one is in the office?” This techno stuff was too much for her to think about with all that was going on.

  “The bug is voice activated, it only records when there’s something to hear. But if I have to listen to that canned dealer say ‘Hit,’ one more time, I might phone Guidry and explain the benefits of occasionally standing pat and letting the dealer be the one to bust. When I go in tonight, maybe I can figure out how to disconnect the volume. But Guidry probably can’t add his cards without the help.”