Through an opening in the curtains, Remy watched from the darkened room. Good, he could make out the younger deputy, Mercier, sitting in the driver’s seat. They had a slight chance of not being shot down in cold blood.
He hurried to Gabby’s door and whispered, “They’re here. Send what you’ve got and hide the rest.”
His Glock and badge rested on top of the TV, but he placed his backup pistol under the edge of the sofa. When he stepped back to the window, the glow from inside the squad car showed Mercier talking on his radio.
Maybe Guidry was unsure enough that he wouldn’t barge in shooting.
Remy felt the roar of his pulse in his ears. He could kick himself for placing Gabby in so much danger. Had he thought these guys were playing a game?
They might both die, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He stepped to Gabby’s door and whispered, “They’re not coming in right now. Keep sending what you can.”
He dabbed a little beer behind each ear, like women did with perfume on TV, then stretched out on the sofa, one hand hanging toward the floor, touching his pistol.
Chapter 18
Dawn had lightened the sky when the second patrol car pulled up. Potbelly was behind the wheel. The sheriff hitched up his pants as he stepped out on the passenger side. Both men had changed into their uniforms.
“Showtime,” Remy called through Gabby’s door. “Don’t come out till I tell you.”
Remy watched as Guidry stomped up the front steps then banged on the door with the side of his fist. “Steinberg, open the door.”
Remy groaned. There went any chance Guidry planned to tread lightly. The sheriff had his own version of hellfire and brimstone ready to rain down on them, and he’d placed Gabby directly in the man’s path. What an idiot he’d been. Now he had to fix this mess. He couldn’t let Gabby pay the price for his arrogance.
Remy paused on his way to the door to rake his hands back and forth through his hair several times. He only had one chance. He had to make this work.
He flung the door open and faced Guidry. “What the hell? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Time for all good working stiffs to be up-and-at-em.” Guidry glared at him.
“I’m not working. I’m on personal leave.” Remy reached back and scratched his butt.
Guidry pushed past him and came inside. Mercier and Potbelly followed behind like well-trained dogs. Guidry let his eyes run up and down him, then eyed the pillow and blanket on the sofa and laughed. The two deputies made no attempt to hide their snickers as they kept a close watch on him while Guidry went into the kitchen.
Remy could almost see his nose turn up in disgust. “This place looks like a pig sty,” he said. “And I’ve known bars that smelled better. Where’s your wife?”
“The ball breaker?” Had he ever really called Gabby that? “She’s in her room. With the door locked.”
“Get her,” he growled.
Remy shuffled down the hallway. “Hey, babe.” He rapped on the door. “Get your butt out here. Company.”
Gabby came out, her hair slightly tousled and her robe open enough to show legs worthy of a blue ribbon at the county fair. Her face broke into a grin. “Sheriff. I’m so glad to see you. Tell me you found Adrienne.”
“No, ma’am. I’m here to see your husband.”
“My ex-husband.” Gabby had a hint of distaste in her voice.
Good girl. She’d paid attention.
“What do you need to see me about?” So far, so good. The man wasn’t exactly polite, but he hadn’t drawn his gun and started shooting.
“Where were you last night?”
“Here, what’d you expect?”
Maybe in the drug business, you had more than one person gunning for you.
“Can you vouch for that, ma’am?”
“Well, we ate dinner around eight and then watched TV. I went to bed after the news. I think Remy stayed up awhile. I could hear voices on the TV.”
“Could he have left without you knowing?”
“I don’t think so.” She leaned closer to the sheriff and lowered her voice. “I kind of hide his car keys at night. Evenings aren’t his best time. But he generally passes out by eleven, so I doubt he was in any condition to leave the house.”
While they were talking, the two deputies wandered around the house, lifting things and moving them around.
“Hey, what are you doing? I didn’t give you permission to go in there,” Remy yelled at Mercier.
“The way I understand it, this isn’t your house, and this isn’t up to you.” Guidry turned toward Gabby. “Do we have permission to look around?”
“Sure, I guess so. Just don’t break anything.”
A timid knock sounded on the back door and Mrs. Perkins stuck her head in. “Gabby, Remy, I brought you something.” She wore a tracksuit and florescent running shoes. In her hand was a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls.
Remy took an appreciative inhale. The mouth-watering aroma almost wiped out the smell of dirty dishes. Almost, but not quite.
“Great, something decent to eat. Put the coffee on, babe. My head is killing me.” Remy smiled and winked as he took the plate from Mrs. Perkins’s hand.
“Why, Sheriff Guidry,” Mrs. Perkins said with a smile, “I didn’t know you were here or I would have brought over more. Are Doyle and Ethan with you?” She stepped into the living room and called, “Fellows, would you like me to bring you anything?”
Mercier and Potbelly reappeared from the back of the house looking flustered.
Remy shoved a whole sweet roll into his mouth. Heaven. This time he didn’t have to pretend to smile as he licked icing from his fingers.
“I’m off to the church for senior aerobics, but I can pop back home and put in a fresh batch if you want.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “We’re here on official business, ma’am. We don’t have time for this today.”
“I know. Isn’t it just awful about Adrienne? Such a nice girl. I’m glad to see you’re working on her case.”
The two deputies stood, awkwardly studying their hands.
Remy moved closer to Guidry and blew beer breath into his face. “Shouldn’t you be out looking for Adrienne instead of searching the one place we know she isn’t?”
Adrienne cocked her head to the side. Did she hear a boat motor? Their last visit had been in the early morning. Was that their routine? She waited, but the sound faded away.
Not her captors, if it had been a motor at all.
Last time they hadn’t come for four days. Did she have two more days to wait?
She felt better now, calmer. She kept herself busy. In the mornings, she cleaned the little cabin, sweeping the floor and making up her cot. Food still held no interest for her, but she forced herself, spending time preparing each meal and eating at the rickety table. She even said Grace before meals, something she and her mother had gotten away from over the last few years.
In the afternoons, she sat in the old rocker on the porch. Sometimes she read, and other times she watched the birds and listened to their song. She’d already finished one book and hesitated to start the next in case she finished and had nothing to read.
The thought of gators and snakes and spiders still terrified her, but it was as if they had called a truce. She owned the days, but the nights belonged to them.
She watched through her window as each night the moon had grown smaller and smaller. Now it had disappeared entirely.
Fear of running out of butane had convinced her to turn the lantern off when she went to bed, but she was only able to manage that because she clutched the flashlight.
Yesterday afternoon she had stood at the edge of the porch and practiced swinging a chair at someone climbing up. She had grown
so big and awkward she couldn’t manage with any chance of success. This couldn’t be normal. Pregnant women didn’t grow at this speed, did they?
She had no one to ask. The baby was healthy, though. At least he seemed to be. He squirmed and kicked and sat on her kidneys until she had to pee every twenty minutes. Last night he’d had the hiccups, and she’d rubbed her growing tummy and sung “Friar Jacques” until he stopped.
Discouraged, she went back inside. They weren’t coming, not this morning. She’d almost welcome the sight of their skiff, coming around the bend in the bayou.
Her vitamins sat on the table, and she reached for the bottle, shaking out one pill. She stopped with the pill halfway to her mouth. What were these things? They didn’t come from any doctor or pharmacy. They almost smelled like the gris-gris bags the old man had hidden around the cabin.
She raced to the screen door, flung it open, and tossed the pill into the bayou.
Let’s see what happens when the gators or fish eat these things.
If Moby Dick stuck his head up in a few days, she’d know for certain she’d made the right decision.
Remy washed the last dish and gave it to Gabby to dry. Finally, the kitchen was back to normal. The color had returned to Gabby’s cheeks, too. She must have been worried shitless to have asked Helen Perkins to come over while the house was in that condition. But Gabby’d made a smart move. Guidry wouldn’t dare pull any kind of stunt with that old woman as a witness.
His phone sounded the first notes of “The House of the Rising Sun”, and he rushed to the living room to grab it. Adam’s name flashed on the screen.
“What the hell have you been up to?” greeted Remy before he could say a word.
“And good morning to you, too. Did you like the little gift I sent you?”
“You’ve gone and done something reckless, haven’t you? I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“I did what I had to do to get things moving. Adrienne’s been gone too long,” Remy growled back. “Now, was it worth the risk? Did I find anything of value?”
“Ft. Knox with the vault door open. I took it to narcotics this morning and they almost kissed me. What’d you hear over the bug? When is the next meet?”
Crap. He might as well admit what happened. There wasn’t much chance he could fool Adam. “I had to disconnect the bug. The sheriff and both his deputies came by to pay me a little visit. I couldn’t take the chance they’d find it.”
“And just why would he even be looking for it? Does he know you broke in?”
“He knows somebody broke in, he’s just not sure it’s me. Gabby kind of hinted that I was a drunk and he’s not sure what to think about me now.” This was worse than talking to Hard Luck. It wasn’t like Adam hadn’t bent a few rules in his time, and Remy had no doubt Adam would bend them again to protect Jillian or their new baby.
“You have to get out of there. You’re lucky he didn’t come in shooting, or try to frame you by planting some drugs. He wouldn’t even have to arrest you himself. He could let the Staties do it.”
“I thought of that. Gabby had a witness drop by and we searched the house from top to bottom after they left. We can’t leave until we find Adrienne.”
“I’m not kidding you. Think this through. You can manage the search from here. At least send Gabby. She could stay with Mamacita. According to Ruben, Mamacita needs a chaperone. Since she’s started dating, he’s had seven kinds of fits. No one likes their mother to date, but he’s making an ass of himself.”
“I could try to send Gabby, but I don’t think she’d go.” He glanced into the kitchen where she’d put away the last of the dishes.
Would she refuse to go, or did he just not want to ask her? The delicate peace they’d managed might not stand up to the light of day. But if he could get her to Houston once, she might see it wasn’t Sodom and Gomorrah.
“Shall I ask Ruben to talk to his mother?” Adam nagged.
“Not yet. I’ll talk to Gabby.” It was the right thing to do. Keep her safe. But damn, he didn’t want to.
He headed back to the kitchen when Gabby met him in the doorway. “The phone’s for you.”
“Who is it?” Did anyone he knew have Gabby’s number?
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was Elvis.”
Chapter 19
“Tell me again why we have to go to New Orleans,” Gabby said as she handed her suitcase to Remy to stow in the car. Leaving with Adrienne still missing was madness.
“You remember the guy from the funeral home?”
Sure she remembered him: coal black hair, piercing eyes, sex oozing from every pore. Way too good-looking to be wasted in a funeral home.
“The girl he showed me had a tattoo. Some type of voodoo symbol. You know who Papa Legba is?”
“I remember a little: keys to Heaven, dispenses destiny, an old man with a cane. Am I right?” Grand-mère had taught her all of that, but it had been so many years, she’d forgotten.
“Yeah, only this one had a quarter moon above the right-hand corner. Does that mean anything to you?”
“No, I never heard of that.” She watched Remy drop the last of her luggage into the trunk.
Remy tossed her the keys. “Do you mind driving? I’d like to study these papers from the sheriff’s office on the way.”
First last night, now today. The old Remy would never have let her do the driving. She buckled up and backed out of the driveway.
“I still don’t understand what that guy”—she could only think of him as Elvis now—“said that sent us running off to New Orleans.” She’d only been to the city once in her life, and it was a memory she wanted to cherish, not ruin by hunting in back alleys for Adrienne. Her daughter had not run away to the Big Easy.
“He has a buddy that works in the ER. Some girl came in with a drug overdose last night and she had the same tattoo. Complete with quarter moon. His buddy had seen it once before and said it symbolized dark voodoo. He gave me the name of a Voodoo Priestess in New Orleans who might be able to tell us what all this means.”
Remy glanced behind them as if watching for trouble. “It’s been a week, and we still don’t understand exactly why Adrienne is missing. Until we do, I’m searching blindfolded.”
“Couldn’t you just call the lady? I don’t want to leave in case Adrienne calls or comes home.” The way Remy had rushed her out of the house before she could stop and think didn’t feel right.
“We’ve both got our cell. Adrienne will call one of us if she’s able and Helen Perkins is watching the house. You can’t question someone successfully over the telephone. You have to look the person in the eye to know if they’re telling the truth or only giving you part of the story.”
Remy watched the side-view mirror but didn’t speak again as she passed the one stop light and left town. That was rich, him complaining that people didn’t tell the whole truth. He was the one hiding something. Just when she was learning to trust him.
She had reached the interstate with only the sound of the wind against the car for company before he spoke.
“The minute he mentioned the tattoo, I remembered something. On Monday, when we went into Guidry’s office, he reached across the desk to scoop those papers into his drawer. When he did, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his arm. I swear it was the bottom half of the same tattoo.”
That still didn’t explain why she had to come with him. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
He shuffled the papers in his lap as if searching for an answer. Finally, he twisted to face her.
“Adam thinks it’s dangerous for you to stay in that house in case Guidry shows up again. He wanted you to go to Houston and stay with Ruben’s mother. I should have given you that choice. It was selfish of me not to, but I didn’t want to be away
from you. I was afraid I’d lose you again.”
Holy cow, had Remy really just said that? An apology and a declaration of feelings. Who was this guy?
Remy shouldered both their bags into the hotel, not one of the big fancy ones, but still a hell of a lot nicer than the one he’d been able to afford for the single night of their honeymoon. The only night they’d ever been alone for their entire marriage.
He dropped the bags and paced while Gabby went to the restroom and combed her hair, still unsure he’d made the right decision to bring her. Ten minutes later they headed out to the French Quarter, Gabby’s hand small and warm in his.
Midweek, mid-afternoon, the streets weren’t empty, but they didn’t have any resemblance to the way they’d look in four hours.
All the antique stores, jewelry stores, costume stores, and souvenir shops had customers, but enough room left to move around. That wouldn’t last long.
The whole area appeared slightly sad. Some things simply weren’t meant to be seen in the daylight.
Expensive restaurants that would soon have a waiting list now sat empty. Street cleaners had finished washing away last night’s trash and spilled beer, but a dingy feel still remained.
He steered Gabby past Jackson Square and then down side streets until they found a back alley with a pocket-sized wooden building that had been painted blue at one time. A handmade sign reading Sister Eva, Voodoo Priestess hung above the door, and his heart sank. How could anyone who lived here help them?
A bell rang as they pushed through the door. Sharp, herbal smells permeated the shop. Roots and herbs hung from the ceiling in bound bunches. Shelves held baskets of dried grasses and flowers. Bottles and jars filled with milky substances and closed with discolored cork stoppers sat on the glass countertop.
On the wall behind the counter stood two locked cabinets. One read Essential Oils, the other Holy Water.
Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte Page 14