"Lacy." Hilaire groaned. "She came in early today— she must have heard me talking to Sable." She came over and grabbed the girl by the shoulder. "You told John, didn't you?"
"I didn't, Hilaire, I—" Lacy looked up into the blonde's furious face and gulped. "But he made me do it. He said they were gonna help her get away from the cops." She shot an accusing look at J. D.
Sable's cousin shook her hard. "J. D.'s been hiding her from the cops, you crazy girl!"
"Hilaire." With effort J. D. clamped down on his own outrage. "Lacy, if Gantry was the one who killed Marc, then he won't help Sable. If he didn't kill him, then he knows who did, and they're both in terrible danger. You have to tell me where they took her."
The girl broke down into tears. "They're not on the bayou, but I don't know where they went. John said Caine would take care of everything."
Hilaire pulled Lacy into her arms. "I've already called a few people I know. Caine's boats are at the dock and he gave all of his men the day off."
"Shit." J. D. needed someone who knew how Gantry thought. "Where is Remy?"
"He went into the city this morning, to see your father."
J. D. called the restaurant and left a message for Louie to meet him at the police station, and then he did the same on Terri's home answering machine. When he finished the calls, he checked his watch. "How long has it been since they left?"
"Three hours." Hilaire released Lacy and touched his arm. "What can I do?"
"Talk to everyone. I have to find out where Caine took her."
"You better come see this, Lieutenant Gamble," one of the girls called from the break room in the back. "Some silver-haired lady is talking about you on TV."
He went back and watched the broadcast on the small black-and-white set, then cursed. "I have to get back to the city and stop this before my mother starts rounding up a lynch mob."
"Good luck, honey," another girl said, making a face at the set. "I know I wouldn't want to take her on."
He went over every aspect of the case in his head on the drive back to the city. Gantry wouldn't have snatched Sable without a good reason—something to do with his arrest, probably. Gut instinct told J. D. the big Cajun wasn't the murderer, and if Sable was right, neither was Remy. He was still at square one as to who had killed Marc.
Reporters and cameramen swamped the front of the police station, so J. D. parked on a side street and went in through the back. Louie met him outside the elevators.
"Where's Mom?"
"Your mother is upstairs, talking to your captain." Louie sighed. "I guess you saw the TV."
"Yeah, I did." He entered the elevator with his father, and then pushed the stop button as soon as the doors closed. "Did you talk to Remy?"
Louie nodded. "He read some letters his wife saved, but he didn't tell Isabel everything. Marc was engaged to someone else when he met Genevieve. His parents came to see her when he broke off the engagement and they scared her into leaving. Marc came back to the bait shop every weekend for the next ten months, begging them to tell him where she went."
"So he was obsessed with her."
"Marc came looking for Sable's mother the day after the fire," Louie told him. "Ginny's neighbors thought he was the one who hired Bud Gantry to set it. They told him she was dead."
"So all these years, he really never knew about her." J. D. hit the start button. "Then Sable shows up out of the blue, and buildings start burning again."
"Cort told me Bud Gantry is dead, that he died a month after he was convicted."
J. D. nodded. "He's dead, but his son is alive."
When they walked out onto the third floor, J. D. saw his mother in the waiting area, with Laure and Moriah Navarre.
"J. D." Moriah saw him first and heaved a sigh of relief.
"Jean-Delano." Elizabet gave her husband an odd look before turning to hug her son and press her smooth cheek against his. "We've been so concerned."
He drew back. "Concerned enough to appear on every news station in town, I understand." He nodded toward the window and the waiting reporters. "The public appeal was quite effective. The tears were a nice touch, too. You haven't done that since I brought home a C on my report card."
She lifted her chin. "I was prepared to do anything to bring you home safely. Now that you're away from that girl, surely you can see—"
For the first time in his life, J. D. turned his back on his mother. "Laure, I'm so sorry about this. You deserved better for you and Marc. Forgive my mother for interfering—she means well."
The widow tried to smile. "You don't have to apologize to me, Jean-Delano."
"Moriah." He took her hand in his. "I know my mother had led you to believe some things about us, but I should have corrected that a long time ago."
Her eyes shimmered but she nodded.
Elizabet threw up her hands. "You are going to let this girl ruin your life? Again?"
"She is my life."
"No. I forbid it. I forbid you to have anything to do with her."
"This isn't a C on my report card." J. D. gave his mother a cool look. "I'm in love with Isabel, and as soon as this is over, I'm marrying her. You can make that your next announcement to the press."
"J. D.?" Moriah put a hand on his arm. "That night, before the dance at Tulane, a group of us went over to Sable's dorm. We'd sent her a message before that, telling her to meet you outside. The boys threw a bucket of swamp water on her. We started the whole thing. Sable was only fighting back when she threw the mud."
"Moriah?"
She turned to his mother. "It's true, and that's not all we did, either." She faced J. D. "We hated her, and we tormented her. We did everything we could think of to make her break up with you. That she endured that as long as she did only shows how much she loved you." Moriah ran from the room, and Laure excused herself to go after her.
"They did that to her?" Elizabet seemed dazed. "I never knew, J. D. I thought—"
"Yeah." J. D. wanted to put his fist through the wall. "So did I."
Louie put an arm around his devastated wife. "Let's go home now, Eliza." He glanced at his son. "Your mother loves you, Jean-Del. She only wanted to protect you."
J. D. would worry about his mother later. He took out his badge and gun as a red-faced Captain Pellerin emerged from his office.
"Gamble." His boss looked ready to detonate. "You've got some explaining to do."
"No, I don't." He handed his gun and badge to the captain. "I quit."
"You bitches thought you'd get away from me," Billy said as he circled around them. He held the shotgun leveled at them and used the back of one hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Guess you weren't as smart as you thought you were."
Cecilia felt the floor of the trailer rock beneath her feet for a moment, and then something touched her hand. Lilah's fingers, folding around hers. That made her realize what she had to do, and she pushed Lilah's hand back.
"Billy, this is my fault," she said, stepping between her husband and her friend. "I just told Lilah I needed a ride into town. I'm the one you should be mad at. You let her go on out of here and you can do whatever you want."
"CeeCee, don't." The dancer sounded furious. "He isn't going to shoot us."
"You don't think I will, you goddamn dyke?" Billy jabbed the end of the shotgun at her. "Women messing with women." He spat on the floor. "Disgusting bitches, you're going burn in hell for that."
"You narrow minded little asshole, I never touched her!" Lilah shouted. "She's always been faithful to you, God only knows why."
Billy's attention was focused entirely on the dancer now, and Cecilia knew she'd never have another chance. Suddenly all the times Billy had brow-beaten her, scared her, and forced sex on her came rushing through her head. He'd treated her like an animal, and now he thought he could just shoot them?
Never again. I'm never letting him hurt me again. It gave her the courage to pull back her leg and kick her husband in the crotch as hard as she could.
"No, honey. Don't." She bent over to look into her husband's eyes. "You hear me, Billy Tibbideau? You're not worth the powder and shot to blow you to the devil."
Billy choked and clutched at his crotch with both hands before he curled over and vomited onto the floor.
"Come on, Lilah." Cecilia picked up her photo album and backed away to the trailer's door. "Let's go now."
The dancer hesitated, and then reversed the shotgun. "This is for raping her four nights a week, you bastard." She rammed the stock into the side of Billy's head, which made him topple over into the pool of his own vomit.
"He won't come after us now." Lilah looked at her, completely unrepentant.
"No, I guess he won't."
They walked out of the trailer and Lilah took a minute to stow the shotgun in the trunk of the car. Cecilia waited until she turned around before she rested her hands on her friend's shoulders and leaned in.
Her lips are so soft, she thought as she kissed Lilah. I hope I'm doing this right.
When she drew back, Lilah opened her eyes and touched her fingertips to her mouth. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to." Cecilia gave her a shy smile. "You'll have to tell me how to do the other stuff, though. I'm still not sure how it all works when you're both girls."
"Oh, honey." Lilah uttered a shaky laugh and hugged her for a moment before she opened the passenger door. "Come with me and I'll show you everything."
The two women had been gone for nearly an hour when Billy regained consciousness. The vomit covering his face and chest, along with the throbbing agony between his legs, made him puke a second time.
"Fucking bitches." He couldn't get up; she'd kicked him so hard she'd ruptured him or something. His pants were soggy with his own piss and shit. He rolled over and swallowed against a third surge of bile.
He was down, but he wasn't out. Not yet. As soon as he could, he was going after them. He'd hunt them down and make them pay for what they'd done to him.
Beat them until their bones break, boy, his dead father shouted inside his head. Screw them until their cunts tear and bleed. Then you skin them alive, an inch at a time.
The trailer door opened and closed behind him.
He turned his head, saw who it was. "Look what they done to me. I gotta go to the hospital. You gotta take me."
Cold eyes moved over him. "No, Mr. Tibbideau. Our association is finished." A gloved hand reached inside the pocket of an expensive coat.
"You take me or—" his eyes widened when he saw the hand reappear. "No. No!"
The gun didn't fire, it hissed. A snake's hiss, which made no sense to him. Neither did the fire in his chest, or the blood pouring from his mouth. The floor rushed up to meet his face, and then everything made perfect sense.
Ishoulda listened to you, Daddy, Billy thought as the gun appeared over his face. You were right.
The gun hissed two more times.
Chapter Thirteen
Sable strained at the cords around her wrists and ankles again, but Caine had tied her up too tight for her to wiggle free. "Where are you taking me?"
"We're going to go see a friend of mine." He turned off the highway.
"What friend?"
"Did I ever tell you that your mother was the sweetest, kindest woman I ever knew?"
"No." She was cramped and frightened and not sure what Caine was capable of. For now, letting him talk seemed safest. "I didn't know you were friends with her."
"We weren't. She was just kind to me." A faraway look came into his eyes as he stared at the road ahead. "I used to go hang around the bait shop whenever my folks were fighting. Her parents let me sleep there when it was bad at home. She always brought me something to eat and she'd sit and talk to me sometimes. Nobody talked to me except Ginny. I think she was the one who convinced Remy to hire me on."
He sounded as if he'd worshipped her. "I'm sorry, Caine. I didn't know."
"Don't be. Ginny told me about your father and how much she loved him, right before she left. I didn't understand why she had to go, and then she came with you and I did." He glanced at her. "She let me hold you when you were just a tiny little thing. I'd never been around babies, and I'd never seen anything as delicate and helpless as you were."
She swallowed. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Your mama asked me to mail a letter for her a few days after she came back with you. It was addressed to your real daddy. Marc LeClare."
"She wrote to him?"
He ignored the question. "A week after I mailed that letter, my daddy came home and gave my mama a whole bunch of money. He told her she had to say he was home all night, and then he left." Caine paused to pass a slower vehicle. "I followed him to your grandparents' house. I was only thirteen—I didn't understand why he brought the bottles and the gas can. I thought maybe he'd borrowed them from your granddad. Then I watched him fill the bottles with the gas, and I knew what he meant to do."
Her throat constricted. "You watched him set fire to our house."
"I didn't stay and watch after he threw the first bottle in the attic. He was a big man, and I couldn't stop him by myself. I ran down to the dock to get Remy." His hands clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles jutted. "I wasn't fast enough, though. When we came back, my daddy was gone and the whole house was on fire. Remy heard Ginny screaming and ran inside. He broke out a window and handed you to me. You were crying and your hair, your pretty red hair, it was all burned off." His voice broke on the words.
She covered her face with her hand.
"I carried you away from the house, and Remy got your mama out. His clothes were on fire, and his hands and face all black and burned. Other people came, but the roof fell in and no one could get to your grandparents. Your mama came to me, and grabbed you. She was staring at the house and saying his name, over and over."
"Whose name?"
"Marc LeClare." His voice changed. "I went with her to the hospital where they took Remy. I told her everything, about my daddy and what he'd done and the money. She went real quiet, and then she said she should have never written to him, never told him about you."
"Marc didn't know about me." Now she was frightened and confused. "He said he never knew."
"No one on the bayou had any reason to hurt you and Ginny. It could have only been one person."
She shook her head. "No. I don't believe you."
"There was no one else with that kind of money." Caine's voice grew harsh. "Marc LeClare paid my father to burn you and your mother to death. Marc was the one who brought you to that warehouse. He was the one who wanted to kill you."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. We're going to see Billy Tibbideau. Marc hired him to burn down the warehouse with you inside it."
Terri saw her partner exit the elevators and dropped the stack of case files in her hands.
"J. D.!" She ran to him and, uncaring of the disapproving eyes, flung her arms around his neck. "Oh, God, I've been so worried." She drew back and studied him. "You okay? Where have you been? I could just kick your ass right now. Wait." She hugged him again. "Okay, I'll beat the crap out of you tomorrow. What's happening?"
"I quit the force." He helped pick up her files. "Caine Gantry grabbed Sable out on the bayou. He's got her somewhere now."
"Stupid shit for brains." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes for a moment. "He won't hurt her, J. D."
"I'm not going to wait and find out."
"I promise, he won't. Caine's my cousin." She grimaced as she met his incredulous stare. "I know, I should have brought that up before, but you had enough on your mind. Caine's been in love with Sable since they were teenagers."
"You know, I didn't need another reason to kill him." He looked around and nodded toward a conference room. "Come on, we need to talk."<
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"Wait." She grabbed a couple of files from her desk.
After Terri filled him in on what little progress Garcia had made on the case, she opened one file. "This is the sheet on Bud Gantry. I can verify that Caine was only thirteen when Sable and her mother were nearly burned to death. He saw his father setting it and ran to get Remy that night. Even back then Caine was crazy about Sable."
J. D. related what Remy told his father, and she closed the file. "Okay, so Marc goes to find Ginny the next day and they tell him she's dead. He couldn't have been too broken up about it."
"Why do you say that?"
"This is the background sheet on LeClare." She tapped a section on the front page, then an entry on Bud Gantry's rap sheet. "Look at the dates—his wedding was only three weeks after the fire."
That changed everything, and J. D. went still. "We've got to get into his bank accounts."
"You're no longer working here," she reminded him.
"Run a financial check. Look at all of the LeClares' accounts, personal and business. I'm interested in large lump-sum withdrawals in the last month and twenty-nine years ago."
"You think LeClare tried to kill his own daughter? Twice?"
"Just see what you can find." J. D. checked his watch. "I'm going to see LeClare's attorney, Jacob Pernard."
Terri drove up to her apartment ten hours later. She was tired and her eyes burned from studying printouts of bank records all day. She hadn't been able to find any suspicious withdrawals, and called J. D. to tell him that, but he had only told her to keep searching. He seemed convinced that she'd find something.
All Terri wanted to do was spend ten hours flat on her back, but she'd be lucky if she got five. She kept seeing the look on Cort's face after she'd punched him in the nose.
Felt good, too, she thought as she rubbed the bruised spot on her cheek. Too bad I didn't break it.
Standing under the shower until the hot water ran out helped relax her tense muscles, but she'd barely dried off when she heard someone hammering at her front door. Thinking it was J. D., she threw on a robe and ran, only to see Cort Gamble hovering outside her front window.
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