Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte

by Susan C. Muller

  “He’s the right person to search, then, but couldn’t he have waited till morning when it would be safer? No, of course not. Not for your daughter.”

  “Can you pray for them, Father? They’re facing so much danger and there’s nothing I can do to help them.”

  “You’re wrong. You’ve already done much to help them.” He pointed to the candles. “Now go home where it’s safe and I’ll take over the praying.”

  A tiny spark of hope settled in Gabby’s heart, then died out again.

  She hesitated. “Remy left the church many years ago.”

  The priest took both her hands in his. “Do you honestly believe that would stop me from praying for his safety?”

  “It would have stopped Father O’Donnell.”

  “Father O’Donnell was old school. He’s in a retirement home now where he can try to browbeat a bunch of old priests who are capable of handling themselves.”

  “He was already old school twenty years ago. Do you know he wouldn’t let me walk across the stage at graduation because I was pregnant?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “We’re supposed to be in the business of bringing people to the church, not pushing them away. I’ll pray for Remy and for Adrienne. Now, you go home and put some dry clothes on. I have an in with someone powerful.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Between us, we’ll get your family home safe.”

  Father Donavan walked out with her, even waiting to make sure she was in her car and that the engine started before he closed and locked the church doors, but Gabby wasn’t sure she was ready to go home and leave everything in God’s hands.

  Remy had said he trusted her. She planned to live up to that trust.

  The wind buffeted her car so that she could barely stay on the road. There had to be a spot where she could wait safely and still be close by when Remy called.

  Behind the Supermart, the loading bay ramp dipped low enough for eighteen-wheelers to back up and have their trailers even with the dock. Her little Ford Fiesta ought to be protected from the wind, if not the rain.

  She backed in and waited, staring at the walkie-talkie, willing the device to come on. But her cell phone rang instead.

  “Gabby? This is Tenequa Chaffy. I work with Remy in Houston.”

  “Yes, Tenequa. Remy’s mentioned you.” Tenequa the Terrible, Tenequa the Kid Whisperer, and Tenequa, the part-time reverend. All the same person?

  “I just left the hospital and thought you might want an update.”

  “The hospital?” Her voice caught in her throat. “What went wrong?”

  “Everything that could. Do you remember reading in history class about some Native American tribe whose shaman or priest or whatever said if they did some special dance they’d be impervious to bullets?”

  “The Ghost Dancers?”

  “Yeah, that’s the ones. Apparently, these dumbass, gang-banger, drug-runners had some voodoo ritual they believed kept them safe. They came out shooting before our guys had a chance to draw their weapons. It was a fucking blood-bath, here and in De Lyon.”

  “Oh, no. Was anyone killed?”

  “Not as many as could have been. After the first few went down, some must have had enough sense to figure out their invisible bulletproof vest ranked right up there with the emperor’s new clothes. Three were killed in Houston and two in De Lyon, including Dan Cryer, Jr., the guy Remy had me check on. Cryer, Sr. is in jail, along with the local police chief.”

  Gabby blew out a breath. Relief that someone was dead had to be morally wrong, but she’d deal with that later. For now, all she could think of was that Adrienne wouldn’t have to face him.

  “Over in your neck of the woods, the Comeaux sheriff had a heart attack while being led away in handcuffs. He’s in the hospital in intensive care.”

  Was that her fault? Another thing she’d have to deal with in the confessional.

  “What about our guys?” She’d only met Adam and Ruben, but she already thought of the Houston police as our guys? Did that have a deeper meaning she wasn’t ready to face? “Were any of them hurt?”

  The wind howled and static filled the line for a moment. Please, please, please, don’t let me lose the connection now.

  “Adam’s mother wanted more than anything to be present when the baby was born, but Adam’s father slipped and broke his leg while tying up their boat. He had surgery in Austin this morning. Of course, after deciding not to induce Jillian until tomorrow, she went into labor all on her own.”

  “Was Adam there?”

  “He’d silenced his phone during the raid so he didn’t know she’d called. She was at the gun store when her water broke so she asked some weird customer named Snake Eye to drive her to the hospital. Meanwhile Adam was at a different hospital with Ruben, who got shot twice.”

  This was getting worse and worse. And she’d thought she had enough on her plate worrying about Remy and Adrienne.

  “Snake Eye sent one of his lieutenants, a twitchy little creep named Mouse, who looked so disreputable that I wanted to slap the cuffs on him just on general principle, to find Adam and get him to the right hospital. End of story.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Gabby almost shouted. “How’s Ruben, how’s Jillian, did Adam make it to the hospital in time?”

  “Adam made it in time, so he won’t have to live with missing the birth for the next twenty years. Ruben was wearing his vest. He has two broken ribs but is acting like that’s nothing. If you ever broke a rib, you know he’s lying. We took a lot of bad people, including some crooked law enforcement personnel, off the streets in Houston and in Louisiana. And that’s about it. After a day straight from Hell, Ruben, Adam, and Remy, along with the entire Houston Narcotics and SWAT teams, are looking like heroes. Now, I’m going home, say my prayers, and go to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

  Fine for Tenequa, but Remy and Adrienne were still out there, and bed was the last place on Gabby’s mind.

  Chapter 34

  As the last of the lantern-light sank beneath the waves, an inky blackness surrounded Remy. He struggled to keep his balance while trying to start the skiff’s engine.

  The pain in his chest and leg had disappeared, but one arm didn’t seem to have the strength it should. If he couldn’t start the engine, they were doomed. The wind and current would bash the skiff into a log or tree trunk, dumping them into the water.

  With all the debris swirling past them and gators lurking in the swampy depths, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Remy glanced forward to see Adrienne clutching herself and shivering violently. He wasn’t sure if the moans he heard came from her, the wind, or towering trees bending double.

  He gritted his teeth and tried again. The roar of the engine catching was the most reassuring sound he’d ever heard.

  The boat shot forward, but even with the motor running, he barely managed to keep control.

  “Here, honey, put this on.” He pulled the plastic rain jacket from his backpack and handed it to Adrienne. If only he had something better to offer her. How could he protect her from all the dangers swirling around them?

  Adrienne battled the wind to slip the flimsy jacket on over her thin gown. As soon as she had it arranged, he handed her the compass and flashlight. He couldn’t make it out of this hellhole without her assistance, yet did she have the strength to help him?

  “Whenever I call out, point to the south-west, but hold the light low in the boat. I need to keep my night vision.” Not that he had much in this darkness.

  Light wouldn’t have helped. All the landmarks he’d followed had vanished. Water now surged over dry land, camouflaging the entrance of one tributary from another.

  What the fuck was going on? Houston could produce a doozy of a downpour, especially during a tropical storm, but he’d neve
r seen anything like this. This had to be a full-fledged hurricane.

  For fifteen minutes he wove his way through floating debris, occasionally calling, “Now.” Adrienne would then point more one direction than another as he adjusted his path.

  He glanced ahead in time to see Adrienne grab her stomach and double over, but if she made a sound he couldn’t hear it over the wind.

  Rain continued to pour down on them, like being hit with a fire hose. He couldn’t risk going any faster.

  Once or twice, he considered driving the boat onto land and huddling under a tree until the storm passed, but then he’d hear a snap as something broke off and crashed to the ground.

  He didn’t know much about the swamp, but he’d definitely heard the term ‘widow maker.’

  Without taking his eyes off the bayou, he felt around in the backpack for the walkie-talkie. When his hand closed around the cold plastic, the knot in his throat eased. He clicked the talk button three times and waited.

  No response. Or could he have heard it if there was one?

  He counted to ten, eased back on the motor slightly, and tried again.

  There. Was that a sound?

  “Gabby, can you hear me?” To hell with anyone listening.

  Static was the only answer.

  “We’re coming in, chère. Be ready.”

  The wind still howled and the rain beat on the roof like a steel drum band, but the buffeting on the car proved minimal. Gabby forced her shoulders to relax. She wouldn’t be any good to Remy or Adrienne this way.

  The walkie-talkie might have pinged, or it might have been gravel hitting the roof. She held the cold plastic close to her ear and clicked back three times, just in case.

  This time there was no mistaking the answering clicks.

  A garbled sound broke through the static, but she could hear no discernible words.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” she called, but no answer came.

  Remy? Or the wind?

  She couldn’t take a chance. She had to be ready.

  She eased out of the sunken ramp and the wind slammed against the side of her car, nearly rolling it over. The lights only illuminated a few feet in front of her. Pieces of plywood, broken lawn furniture, and boxes that once held fruit or vegetables either rolled or scooted across the cement in front of the car.

  Paper trash swirled through the air. She was almost afraid to use her windshield wipers in case the wind ripped them off, but she couldn’t see at all without them.

  She made her way to Dan Cryer’s house and her heart sank. State police cars and vans lined the front of the house. On some, the lights still flashed, on others, the light bar hung uselessly over the side.

  His dock was completed gone and the water reached almost to his back door. She drove past without stopping.

  When she reached Sherri Lynn’s, the only difference was the lack of police cars. Water had overflowed the banks and reached almost to the street. Another few inches and her trailer would be flooded.

  A sob tore from her throat as she stared at the destruction. How was she going to get to Remy? He was counting on her. Adrienne was counting on her.

  She lifted her foot off the brake, stomped on the accelerator, and sped down the street. Her heart lodged in her throat as she flew over debris that lifted her car into the air.

  What was she doing? She never broke the speed limit. Not even on a sunny day with no traffic. Too many years spent ferrying kids to school and soccer games.

  The sheriff’s station appeared deserted, but the huge monstrosity of a black Hummer was parked to the side. The overhead light and camera were nowhere to be seen, leaving the entire area dark.

  The wind almost ripped the door off her car when she opened it. She squealed, but the sound carried away.

  She tried the Hummer and the station’s front door, both locked, so she got into her car, backed across the street, and aimed her car at the front door. With her eyes closed and her hands gripping the wheel hard enough to stop any circulation, she stomped on the accelerator.

  The passenger-side fender crumpled as it hit the building and the air bag exploded in her face. The blow stunned her so that several seconds passed before she could focus well enough to shift into reverse.

  In front of her, the building’s door swung back and forth on one hinge, its screech discernible over the wind.

  There went her perfect driving record.

  Inside, on the peg she’d noticed while sweet-talking the sheriff, hung the keys to the Hummer.

  Just add grand theft auto to that reckless driving ticket. Oh, and breaking and entering. Heavy on the breaking part.

  She shivered as she ran, keys in hand, for the sheriff’s car. Her clothes molded to her body and her hair plastered to her face. She was so wet her fingers puckered.

  The water hitting her face tasted brackish. Was it rain or something foul sucked up from the bayou? Either way, she spit the revolting water out.

  The Hummer proved an oasis of calm compared to the outside, but the wind and rain still managed a muffled roar. Her feet didn’t reach the pedals so she fumbled with buttons and levers until the seat crept forward. The engine sprang to life, and she switched on the heater.

  Driving back to Sherri Lynn’s was a fraction easier in the big car. She drove over the curb and past the trailer. The big tires held the car above the water line until near when she envisioned the bank.

  She left the headlights on and angled the spotlight toward a break in the trees. Everything outside the line of light disappeared into darkness.

  One step outside the car and she sank into water above her knees. Fear choked her as the current tugged at her body. This wasn’t going to work.

  Using the door handles for leverage, she dragged herself to the rear of the car. When she opened the hatchback, she found a rope and harness.

  She struggled with fastening the harness around her body, then looped the rope around the front bumper and attached the other end to the carbineer. She eased out each step, feeling for solid ground.

  The rope ran out at the edge of the lights. She leaned back in the harness and gazed down the bayou into utter nothingness.

  Where were Remy and Adrienne?

  “Which way, Adrienne?” Remy peered into the blackness that wasn’t as deep as it had been when they started out, but he still couldn’t see anything that helped him navigate.

  “I don’t know,” she wailed. “I dropped the compass when you hit that log a few minutes ago. I can’t find it. I still have the light, though.” She shined the beam on both sides of the skiff.

  Remy’s stomach dropped. Nothing looked familiar. Water covered every square inch and the only way to guess at the bayou was that some places seemed to have fewer trees.

  He eased the boat up a few feet. “Do you see anything?”

  “No, it’s all dark.”

  “What about over here?” He pulled forward.

  “Daddy, Daddy, look. Is that something?”

  “I can’t tell. Is the sky brighter, or is that a light?”

  “It’s moving. Can you see it?”

  Remy stared. The tiny pinprick of light moved in a circle. It might be a broken light hanging off a building and blowing in the wind. But it was the best shot he had.

  He steered the boat toward the light and the dot seemed to grow bigger. If it was a deserted fishing shack or empty building, he’d made the wrong decision and they wouldn’t be any better off.

  If it was one of Dan Cryer or Sebastian Guidry’s friends, they were in a shitload of trouble.

  Adrienne swung the flashlight in a big arc over her head. Remy almost shouted at her to stop, that they didn’t know what was waiting for them. But it didn’t matter.

  No person could be a bigger
enemy than this swamp.

  He watched as Adrienne wailed and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

  As they neared the light, its motion changed from circular to back and forth in a quick blur. Remy’s heart soared. That wasn’t the wind. A human had to be behind that movement.

  Chapter 35

  When Gabby saw the light swing back and forth, she almost cried for joy, but the water had risen to her thighs, and even with the rope and harness, she was in danger of being swept away.

  Could it be Remy? Did he have Adrienne with him? If so, she’d go back to church and light a dozen candles.

  The light neared and she stuck her key-chain penlight back in her pocket. She could see the boat now and that had to be Adrienne sitting in the front.

  “Momma.” The word sounded faint, but definitely Adrienne.

  The sky lightened and the wind dropped. Even the rain let up. Gabby pointed toward the Hummer. Remy steered the boat up the bank until the bottom stuck in the mud.

  Adrienne climbed awkwardly out of the boat and Gabby threw her arms around her daughter’s shoulders.

  “Get her to the car. Fast,” Remy shouted. “She’s in labor and probably suffering from exposure.”

  Gabby gaped in disbelief. In labor? How could that be? She wasn’t more than six months along and not even showing when she disappeared. Her poor baby. Was she about to have a miscarriage?

  Gabby stepped back and studied Adrienne in the beams of the headlight. Her belly extended far past than what would be normal at this stage of the pregnancy. She yelled over the storm. “What the hell did they do to her?”

  “Those strange pills and vitamins Sebastian had Yvonne making. Who knows what was in them, but he needed this baby now, and he didn’t care what harm he caused.”

  She twisted toward Remy. “Maybe we should take her into Sherri Lynn’s trailer.” He was still in the boat, gathering items off the floor and stuffing them in his backpack.