“I still think it’s too dangerous. There has to be a better way.” She couldn’t worry about Adrienne and Remy both, her head would explode.
“We can’t keep waiting for something to happen. We have to make it happen. I need to look inside that office. See if I can discover anything that might help us find Adrienne.”
He took her hand and held it to his chest. “I trust Ruben’s intuition, honestly I do, but I can’t just sit and wait any longer. Not with Adrienne’s life at stake.”
Gabby spent half an hour soaking in the tub. In hopes of relaxing, she’d added bubbles and lavender to water so hot it pickled her skin. The thought of Remy breaking into the sheriff’s office had her neck in knots.
When she returned to the kitchen, Remy had cleaned up his mess and put away his gun-cleaning kit. The only smell, the deep, rich aroma of chicken, simmering in cayenne pepper, oregano, and garlic. She’d even added her secret ingredient, Worcestershire Sauce, because that’s the way Remy used to like the dish.
She filled their plates and was pleased to see how much Remy put away. She pushed her own food around and prayed he wouldn’t notice. The bath hadn’t relaxed her that much.
After supper, she carried the dishes to the sink and ran hot water over them. Remy held up his hand to stop her.
“I know it goes against everything Grand-mère taught you, but let’s just set them on the counter for tonight. I’ll wash them tomorrow. I’m not expecting any trouble tonight, but you never know. You need, what do they call it? Plausible deniability.”
He opened the refrigerator and took out her week-old half-bottle of Merlot. Before she could protest that she didn’t really want any, he poured the wine down the drain and set the empty soldier in the trash.
She watched in shock as he grabbed the six-pack of beer he’d bought at the Supermart. He popped the top on five of them and poured the contents down the drain, crushing the cans in his hand and tossing them into the trash next to the empty bottle of wine. He left one can sitting on the counter.
When he yanked his T-shirt over his head and dabbed the front in some spilled sauce on the stove and then dribbled the last few drops from one of the beer cans down the front, she’d had enough.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he was doing. If he didn’t trust her enough to explain, too bad.
“It’s early yet, let’s watch the news.” He strolled into the living room as if he always used his shirt to wipe up spilled food.
They settled onto the sofa and flipped on the TV. Then he slipped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. She resisted for a second, then gave in, resting her head against his chest and listening to his heart beat in her ear. Shortly, she could feel some of the tension leave his body. She’d been wrong. He hadn’t avoided going into detail because he didn’t trust her. He trusted her enough that he felt he didn’t have to explain. He knew she had his back and would follow his lead.
The local news came from Lafayette and they listened to stories about a fire and a shooting at a convenience store. The weatherman mentioned a tropical depression off the coast of Africa and no threat to them. Hurricane season didn’t start for another week. For now, the weather would remain hot and muggy. Big surprise.
When the sports commentator started talking about high school tennis, Remy switched the set off.
“Let’s try to get a few hours sleep.” He took her hand and led her toward the bedroom.
She pulled the covers back and he stretched out on his back with his hands folded across his stomach. “Can you set the alarm for ten till two?”
Within three minutes, Remy had fallen asleep but she couldn’t force her eyes to stay shut. Every time she closed them, they popped back open again. If they didn’t trust the local sheriff, then they should call the Louisiana State Police, or the F.B.I. Trying to do this themselves was too dangerous and not getting them anywhere. Adrienne, where are you baby?
Soon Gabby’s eyes burned from staring at the ceiling. Maybe she could rest them for a few minutes.
The alarm sounded with an annoying beep, beep, beep. and jerked Gabby awake. When had she fallen asleep? She fumbled in the dark and found the off button.
“Don’t switch on the light. Get dressed in the bathroom with the nightlight if you need to.” Remy’s breath tickled her ear. How long had he been awake?
When she came out, he was waiting by the back door, dressed in jeans, dark gray tennis shoes, and a black T-shirt. He set the last can of beer on the ground beside the back door.
She started out the door, but he held her back, peering at the street for several minutes before allowing her to rush for the car. The overhead light didn’t switch on when she opened the door.
When had he disconnected that?
Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. Everything suddenly felt real. What were they doing? They could end up in jail or worse, dead, before this night was over.
Chapter 17
“Is your phone set on ‘vibrate’?” Remy watched Gabby, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. If only he didn’t need her. She shouldn’t have to take risks like this.
She nodded, but didn’t take her eyes off the road. She kept the speed at twenty-five, just like he’d told her. Slow enough to make little noise, fast enough not to look suspicious.
“Keep your cell in your pocket, or someplace where the glow can’t be seen.”
She eased to a stop in the spot he’d chosen earlier, one street behind the Sheriff’s Station and between two foreclosed homes, the nearest streetlight a block away.
He twisted to face her. “I need you to promise you’ll do exactly as I say.” He waited until she nodded again.
“If I text you XXX, come around the front to pick me up. But if I text you 911, you have to get out of here. Don’t peal out, but go immediately. Don’t wait for me. I’ll make my own way. When you get home, don’t turn on any light. Get your clothes off and get right into bed. If someone comes to the door, you don’t know anything. You’ve been asleep. If the beer can is missing from the back step, tell them to look for me behind the garage. I’m likely passed out, drunk.”
She took a deep breath, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m not kidding, chère. I need you to promise or I won’t leave. If it all goes wrong, I can take care of myself, but I can’t protect us both.”
When she still didn’t answer, he said the one thing he knew would work. “Adrienne is going to need at least one parent when this is over.”
Finally she whispered, “I promise.”
He gave her one quick kiss, then another longer one. How many years had he wasted because ultimatums set his teeth on edge?
He slipped out of the car and eased the door closed with a soft click. The moon hung a slender crescent but gave him enough light to pick his way across a wooded lot to the back of the sheriff’s station.
Mosquitoes buzzed around his ears as he squatted just inside the tree line and studied the cinderblock building. A security light in the front offered a harsh glow, but the light in the back was dark.
Was it broken, burned out, or motion-activated? No way to tell for sure. A camera was hidden near the front door, but he saw no sign of one in the rear.
They obviously weren’t concerned about the back door. On the inside, that door faced the sheriff’s office, but was fastened with a padlock and covered by a file cabinet.
Didn’t matter. He had never planned to enter that way.
A whiff of wild jasmine took him back to a borrowed hunter’s cabin one night many years ago, but he shook the memory off. This wasn’t the time or place for memories. The night sounds, which had stopped when he appeared, started up again, but he remained motionless.
That light worried him.
He watched for several m
inutes, then rose. He’d have to take his chances. The light wouldn’t prove anything. An animal might have set it off.
Still, he swung around and approached from the side. He eased tight against the wall until he reached the back door of the vacant ‘Adventure Tours Agency’ half of the building.
The light stayed off.
He slipped on a pair of Gabby’s dishwashing gloves and tried the knob.
Locked.
He’d never used the set of lock picks Adam had left for him, but they didn’t appear any different than the ones he’d used before.
After three minutes, Remy’s hands began to sweat. He hadn’t counted on the thickness of the gloves or the way they held the heat in.
The lock snapped open, but the door gave a low groan as he pushed it inward. If he left it ajar would it be a red flag? He was caught anyway if someone felt the need to check.
The building was awash in dust and mildew, and Remy’s nose twitched, a sneeze building. He rubbed his nose vigorously until it quit tingling.
Only minimal light filtered into the room from the security light mounted over the sheriff’s station front door, and the moon had faded to nothing.
He stood, waiting for his eyes to adjust. A penlight rested in his pocket, but this office was too exposed to the street to risk using it.
Dim forms began to take shape in the darkness. He took two steps and banged his shin on a chair, cursing under his breath at the noise. Waving his hands in front of him, and sliding his feet, he found an old desk. He boosted himself up onto the worn surface and reached overhead.
The old building had a drop ceiling. He shoved aside one of the stained panels, the empty square above him inky black. Then he sprang off the desk and muscled himself into the crawlspace above.
Now he could use the light.
He flicked the switch on and immediately wished he hadn’t. Rat poop mingled freely with a thick coating of dust. He forced himself to take shallow breaths. What had he read about diseases that could be contracted from inhaling rodent droppings?
Keeping his weight on the support beams, Remy inched forward. When he estimated he had reached the sheriff’s office, he lifted the corner of one panel and peered down into a storeroom. Too soon. He crawled over one more panel, the beam digging into his knees.
Success. He was directly over the sheriff’s desk. Setting the panel to one side, Remy eased himself down, dropping the last few inches onto the desk. From there he jumped to the floor and shut the office door. Even then, he only used the penlight for illumination.
Where to look first? The papers he’d seen Guidry shoving into his desk drawer. Maybe if he found them, whatever had set off the alarm bells in his brain would come back to him.
He didn’t have time to read them, so he switched on the copy machine and ran them through. While the machine was doing its job, he checked the other papers on the desk and ran them through the machine. When he found an address book, he made a copy of that, too.
What else? He opened the file cabinet and searched for his, Gabby’s, and Adrienne’s names. Not there. But Dan and Danny Cryer were. So was Yvonne Dupre. Under Guidry, he found a man named Simon, one named Samuel, and another named Sebastian. Doyle Guidry was undoubtedly Potbelly.
Remy scooped up the files and ran them through the machine. He’d read the particulars later. For now, copies would have to do. He was returning the papers to their original position when he heard tires on gravel. His heart froze in his throat.
Car doors slammed. Someone had definitely stopped in front. He slammed the desk drawer closed. Grabbing his copies, he hefted himself on the desk and into the crawl space. He dared one last glance around the room. The green light still glowed on the copier and a dusty footprint glared up at him from the corner of the desk.
He had barely eased the panel back into place when he heard the front door open.
When voices sounded in the room, he’d only managed to scoot back a few feet. He couldn’t risk moving any farther.
Light seeped in around the edges of each ceiling panel and he placed one eye against the seam and peered down. Only a thin, straight line was visible. He could see the green light switch off as the copier cooled down.
Guidry parked his butt on the corner of his desk and turned to someone Remy couldn’t see.
“And your boy’s sure they were checking up on him?”
“Yep, the manager called him this morning and warned him not to make the next pickup.”
Dan Cryer’s voice, no doubt about it.
“What do you hear from Houston?”
“They were already nervous over the girl. This is really going to spook them.”
Guidry stood and crossed to the fax machine. Only his legs were visible from Remy’s vantage point. “I don’t have any notices or ‘Be on the lookouts.’ I’ll call Butch in De Lyon in the morning. I’m not waking him on a rumor. I’ll check in with the old man, but he’s working on something of his own.”
Cryer took a step forward and stood directly under Remy. Remy gazed down at the top of his head. He had a good start on a bald spot which he’d tried to cover with a comb-over.
“I can give things a day or two to cool off, but I have buyers who won’t be happy with me. This part is your job. Time to earn your pay.”
“What if the kid goes by car this time and takes a totally different route? He could meet them across the state line. That should throw off anybody watching the motel.” The sheriff moved back into view. He started to sit on the corner of his desk, but noticed the dirt, now only a smudge. He wiped it off and raised his face toward the ceiling.
Dan scratched his head, causing the few hairs he had to stand straight up. “I don’t like it. The bayou’s safer, but maybe. On a one-time-only deal. I’ll check with Houston. See how they feel about it.”
Something scurried across Remy’s back. He flinched and a rat squealed and scampered away.
“Goddamn rats,” Guidry shouted. A gunshot punched a hole in the ceiling two feet from Remy’s head. Two more shots followed, each thankfully leading away from him.
Merde! The man was crazy. Remy noticed light-holes beaming up from other parts of the crawlspace. Guidry didn’t even have to know he was up there to kill him.
If the man was that gun happy over an unexplained noise, what would he do if he found Remy, holding copies of his personal papers?
Nothing Remy wanted to think about while hiding in a dark passage and he shivered despite the heat.
He risked one last glance into the room and saw Guidry plop into his chair. The man leaned back and lifted one foot halfway to the desk, then placed the foot down again. Frowning, he stared at his desk drawer. The corner of a piece of paper poked out.
Fuck! Remy eased his breath out, drew another, afraid to move, afraid not to.
Remy watched as the sheriff’s attention appeared glued to the paper. Then, without moving, he turned his head toward the corner of his desk and then faced the ceiling. He reached for his gun again, but because he was sitting, the weapon hung on the armrest.
Remy scrambled backward as two more shots hit the ceiling, exactly where he’d been a few seconds earlier. Holy shit. If Guidry didn’t kill him, Gabby would. He could only imagine how she felt listening to the gunshots and wondering what the hell was going on inside the station.
He had just reached the vacant office when he heard Potbelly’s voice call from the other room. “What are you doing, boss? We can call the exterminator in the morning.”
The sheriff’s voiced reached through the thin wall. “We’re gonna’ need some kind of exterminator. That’s for damn sure.”
“Go, go, go,” Remy shouted as he scrambled into the car. “Don’t switch on the lights or touch the brake pedal until we’ve turned the corner.”
“W
hat happened?” Gabby didn’t take her eyes off the road.
“Sheriff Guidry, Dan Cryer, and Potbelly Guidry decided to have a party and play Pin the Tail on the Donkey. I was the donkey.”
“Did they see you? I thought I heard gun shots.”
“They didn’t see me, but Guidry suspects.” If he didn’t suspect before, he did when that fucking security light came on.
Gabby turned into the drive and Remy had his seatbelt unfastened before she had the ignition off.
“Get inside. Don’t turn the lights on.” He sprinted through the back door, picking up the beer can on the way. In the laundry room, he stripped down to his boxers and dropped his dust and rat-poop-covered clothes in the washer.
“Can you scan on the computer in your room?”
Digital clocks, one in green over the stove and one in red on the microwave, provided the only light, and Gabby fumbled locking the door. “Yes. I had to scan Adrienne’s transcript for LSU last week.”
“Go in your room, lock the door, but toss me out a pillow and blankets first. Take off your clothes, mess up your hair, or whatever, then scan as many of these as you have time for and email them to Adam.” He pulled the papers from underneath his shirt.
“Did you find something important?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to look. But Guidry was worried and that’s good enough for me.”
“What do I do when I finish?”
“Hide them. And do a good job.”
Remy waited outside her door until he heard the lock click. He’d tossed the pillow and blanket on the sofa, tugged the stained shirt over his head, popped the top of the last beer, and guzzled a couple of swallows when a patrol car drove up in front.
Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte Page 13