Celia frowned and shoved her dessert away. “Must we talk about this over our meal? It’s been years since we’ve had a dinner where we’ve all been together. Can’t we talk about something more pleasant?”
For the rest of their time at the table the discussion revolved around neighbors, parties and upcoming social events. Shelby sat quietly, as always fascinated by the dynamics of her family. Her mother deferred to her father, John junior emulated Big John and Olivia entertained, obviously preening each time she drew a smile from her father. For as long as Shelby could remember, the world had revolved around Big John, and that was something that hadn’t changed in the years she’d been gone.
Only Michael seemed relatively inured to Big John’s presence, and he and Shelby exchanged several warm, supportive looks.
Finally the meal ended and the family members parted for different directions of the house. Shelby went up to her room, wanting to review her notes and work on the case looming ahead.
Before sitting down at the small desk, she walked over to the window and stared out at the thick, dark jungle of the distant swamp. The sun had set and twilight reigned, casting a gloomy cloak over the area. Billy had been raised in the darkness of the swamp, and that darkness had invaded his pores, making it difficult to separate the darkness from the man.
Yet in that single instant of seeing Billy with his son Shelby had realized Billy was more than darkness, had a core of love in his heart that shone through despite his attempts to hide it.
Up until this moment she hadn’t been sure of her motives for defending Billy. There had been a small piece of her that hadn’t been sure her motives weren’t ignoble. There had been a tiny part that wondered if she’d come back to seek revenge against the man who had passionately made love to her, then callously cast her aside.
She no longer worried about that. She intended to defend Billy wholeheartedly, with all the skill and passion she could muster. He deserved nothing less, and she could give nothing less.
She started to turn away from the window, then paused, something catching her attention at the edges of the swamp. A figure walking toward the darkness. Squinting, she cursed the encroaching night as she tried to identify the person. Michael? Or it could be Roger. Both were approximately the same build and both had worn dark slacks and a white shirt at dinner.
The figure disappeared from view and Shelby left the window. Sinking down at the desk, she wondered what on earth either man would be doing entering the swamp as night approached.
SHELBY LOOKED at her watch as she hurried to the courthouse, hoping the appointment with Abe wouldn’t last long. She didn’t intend to miss Tyler’s funeral.
She’d been surprised when Abe had called and asked her to meet him for an early-morning appointment. Her stomach knotted in apprehension as she entered the courthouse and looked for the room where Abe had said he’d meet her. She hoped Abe didn’t have more surprises for her where Billy was concerned. She’d had more than enough bombshells in this case.
She found the antechamber where Abe had said he’d be, and knocked briskly. A deep, gruff voice bade her enter. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door to see Abe sitting at a table. “Shelby.” Abe stood with the courtliness of a true Southern gentleman and gestured her to the chair opposite the table from his.
“Good morning, Abe.” She set her briefcase on the tabletop, then slid into the folding chair and looked at him expectantly, wondering what had prompted his phone call.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks.” She looked at her watch again. “I don’t have a lot of time this morning. What’s up?”
Abe sat back down and leaned back in his chair, his pale eyes gazing at her in bemusement. “I still remember you as a ragamuffin, running the swamp in spite of your parents’ admonitions. It’s hard to believe you’re all grown up and now my adversary.”
“We don’t have to be on opposite sides. Drop the charges against Billy and find the real killer.”
Abe laughed and swept a hand through his thin white hair. “Actually, that’s exactly what I wanted to discuss with you.”
“You’re dropping the charges against Billy?”
“With all the circumstantial evidence against him I’d be a fool to do that. However, since the case is looking so bad for you, I thought you might be interested in a plea bargain. Instead of murder in the first degree…manslaughter.”
Shelby restrained her snort of derision. “Why would an innocent man plea-bargain and agree to a charge of manslaughter?”
“We could save the taxpayers a lot of money by agreeing to a plea,” he continued.
Shelby’s snort escaped. “Since when has saving taxpayers money been a priority of yours?”
He flushed, his features tightening in frustration. “I take it you aren’t interested in my offer?”
Shelby stood and grabbed her briefcase. “I’ll take it to my client, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Abe stood as well, a challenging light in his eyes. “I’ll destroy both you and Billy in court. I’m one of the best at what I do.”
Shelby flashed him a quick smile. “So am I,” she retorted, then turned and left the office.
TYLER LAJUNE’S FUNERAL was attended by nearly everyone in the town of Black Bayou. The sun shone brightly and the humidity was as heavy as the grief that etched Jonathon and Laura LaJune’s faces.
Billy arrived at the end of the service, standing in the back of the crowd of mourners gathered around the elegant, flower-bedecked casket.
As the minister intoned his eulogy, Shelby worked her way through the throng of people to where he stood. “Is it wise for you to be here?” she asked, aware of the venomous glares he drew from the others.
“Probably not.” A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. “But I have as much right as anyone to mourn the passing of a friend.” His eyes darkened. “And God help the person who tries to stop me.”
Shelby fought the impulse to touch his arm, offer support, knowing he would rebuke a gesture that implied sympathy or pity. “I heard Fayrene was buried earlier this morning. I would have come had I known.”
The muscle in his jaw worked again. “It was well attended by the swamp community, a simple, small ceremony.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, seeming unaffected by the hostile frowns he garnered.
Shelby looked around the crowd, recognizing neighbors and townspeople she hadn’t seen since coming back to Black Bayou. Was one of them the murderer of Fayrene and Tyler? Was it possible that one of them might be the swamp serpent?
Black Bayou had always been a town of secrets and sins, of prejudice and intolerance. Had Tyler uncovered a secret? Had his quest for a good story led him to his death? Or had the intended victim indeed been Fayrene, as most of the town seemed to believe?
Her gaze lingered on a young woman standing some distance from the rest of the crowd. Obviously pregnant, she displayed strength and pride in her posture despite the tears that ran freely down her face. Shelby moved closer to Billy. “Who’s that?” she asked softly, gesturing with a tilt of her head toward the young woman.
“That’s Sissy LaJune. Tyler’s wife.”
“Tyler’s wife?” Shelby exclaimed.
“Shh,” Billy hissed, and pulled her farther away from the crowd of mourners. “She and Tyler were secretly married months ago. That’s where I was going to take you this afternoon. That’s where I suspect Tyler’s laptop computer is.”
Shelby stared at him, shocked by the information she’d just received. Tyler had secretly married? And from the appearance of Sissy, Tyler LaJune had married himself a swamp girl.
The thought opened up a whole new area of speculation. Had his father found out? Had Jonathon LaJune discovered his son’s secret marriage to Sissy and exploded? Or had somebody else killed Tyler because of his marriage? With each new piece of information that revealed itself, things got more and more complicated.
One thing was certain—if Tyler wa
s married and loved his wife, there was no way he’d compromise that love by having a fling with Fayrene. This new information destroyed the prosecution’s scenario of an affair between Tyler and Fayrene. A surge of hope filled her at this thought. Finally she had something substantial to use to poke holes in the crime-of-passion theory.
The minister conducting the solemn ceremony finally finished, and Shelby touched Billy’s arm. “I don’t think it’s a smart idea for you to linger here.” She looked to where the young widow had been standing. She was gone. “Take me to Sissy’s place.”
“You can’t use this,” Billy said when they were in his truck and headed toward the swamp.
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t tell anyone that Tyler and Sissy were married.”
Shelby stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding. That information is dynamite. It blows apart the prosecution’s whole case.”
Billy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I served as Tyler’s best man, and I made a promise to keep the ceremony quiet until he was ready to let people know.”
“But Tyler’s dead,” Shelby protested.
Billy cast her a heavy-lidded gaze. “But my word to him isn’t.”
Shelby settled back in the seat. “I didn’t give my word to anyone and this information is vital to your case.”
Billy didn’t answer. He pulled the truck off to the side of the road and parked it, then turned to her. “It’s a vital piece of information you won’t use because I won’t allow it. How long do you think the LaJunes will allow Sissy to keep the baby she’s carrying once they discover it is Tyler’s? And that’s the end of this particular discussion.” He opened the truck door. “Come on, we walk from here.”
Frustrated, Shelby got out of the truck and slammed the door. Damn him and his particular code of ethics. A promise to a dead man was more important than his defense against a murder charge. Surely she could talk sense into the LaJunes if she decided to use the fact that Tyler was married. She swallowed hard against a lump of doubt. In honesty, she wasn’t sure she could talk sense into them. Jonathon LaJune was a difficult man, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself knowing she’d been responsible for Sissy losing her baby to the LaJunes.
They left the gravel road and followed a nearly imperceptible narrow path. “Abe asked to meet with me this morning. He offered us a plea bargain,” Shelby said as she followed close behind Billy.
“A plea bargain?” He stopped and turned back to look at her.
She nodded. “He said he’ll drop the first-degree charges if you’ll cop to manslaughter.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Once again he started down the path, with Shelby following.
As they walked deeper into the tangled growth the sunlight disappeared, unable to filter through the thick brush and trees around them.
Insects buzzed and clicked a cacophony of sound, a reminder to Shelby that she was an intruder in this world of dark coolness and mystery. She used to pretend that she had been born in the swamp. In her childish fantasies Billy’s grandmother had been her mother and the swamp shanty had been her home. There had been a sense of belonging there she hadn’t found within the bosom of her own family.
She hurried to catch up with Billy, whose long legs strode with confidence through the thick brush. As they entered the dark heart of the swamp, Shelby’s throat tightened convulsively as haunting visions filled her head. What was it? What dreams plagued her? Or were they half memories trying to be retrieved from the bottom of her subconscious?
Her steps faltered and her heart pounded faster, fighting beneath the burden of claustrophobia that tightened her chest. Moonlight on still waters, two figures dancing in the shadows…a grunt followed by a muffled cry…evil in the swamp.
“Shelby? Are you all right?”
She gasped, the visions disappearing as she focused on Billy, his forehead furrowed with concern. “Yes…I’m fine.” She swiped a hand across her forehead, realized her skin was sticky with a sheen of perspiration. “Can we rest just a moment?”
He nodded and she leaned against the trunk of a cypress tree, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. But as Billy stepped closer and gently touched a strand of her hair, her heart resumed its frantic beat. Where before it had been the rhythm of fear, this was something different. Evoked by the touch of his fingers, elicited by the intimate nearness of his body next to hers, the heat of desire pumped her blood in hot, heavy waves.
He stood so close to her his scent surrounded her, infused her with its wicked wildness. His fingertips left her hair and trailed down the side of her cheek across the vulnerable hollow of her throat.
She fought the impulse to lean her head back, give him full access so he could place his lips against her flesh. She knew how easy it was to get lost in him, to forget everything but the heat of his touch, the pleasure of his hardmuscled body against her own.
She pushed off the tree and stepped away from him. “How much farther is it to Sissy’s?” she asked, wishing her voice didn’t sound so breathless.
“Not far.” He smiled, the confident smile of a man who knew what his touch did to her, who enjoyed making her heart pound frantically.
She wanted to tell him to stop touching her, stop making love to her with his eyes, but to speak of these things was to acknowledge the power he had over her. It angered her, how his most simple touch made her blood sing, caused her heart to surge in anticipation.
With a softer smile still curving his lips, he held out a hand to her. In that single gesture her anger died and she was once again a frightened girl being led through the darkness of the swamp by Billy Royce.
She placed her hand in his, and as it warmly enfolded hers she knew she would do anything possible, whatever it took, to keep him out of prison.
Within a few minutes they broke into a clearing where a small wooden house had been built on piers, keeping it high above the swamp water below.
Although it was nearly noon, here the dense greenery and trees made it appear to be perpetual twilight. Birds called from a nearby tree, as if signaling their approach.
The front door opened and Sissy stepped out, a figure of pity in her faded navy dress and with her swollen stomach and red-glazed eyes.
“Hi, Billy.” Although she spoke to him, her gaze remained on Shelby, curious yet wary.
“Sissy, this is Shelby Longsford, a friend of mine. Can we come up and talk to you for a few minutes?”
The young woman nodded, then disappeared back into the house. Billy and Shelby climbed the stairs and entered the small shack.
Immediately Shelby felt that this was a place where love had dwelled. The walls were lined with pictures. Photos of Tyler as a boy, as a teenager and as a man, images of him and Sissy in various poses, their faces filled with joy and laughter, with love and dreams of a future.
“Please, sit down.” Sissy gestured toward the table and offered them a glass of iced tea. As she fixed their drinks, she moved with a fluid grace despite the bulk of her pregnancy. When she’d placed glasses before them both, she joined them at the table. “The funeral was nice, wasn’t it? Tyler had so many friends.” She caressed her stomach, and Shelby felt an aching sorrow for her.
“Sissy, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, knowing the words were inadequate, but needing to say them nevertheless.
Sissy nodded, her fair hair falling over her shoulder in a heavy curtain. Again her hand moved across her swollen belly as if to comfort the child within. “We’d made such plans, Tyler and me. He said all he needed to make him happy was me, our baby and his writing.” She closed her eyes for a moment, her features radiating a quiet dignity, an inner strength. She opened her eyes and this time looked at Shelby. “We should have known better. Angelique told us it was a mistake, that swamp and town don’t mix. That’s why Tyler died, ’cause he was with me.”
“Sissy, that’s not true,” Billy said, a gentleness to his tone Shelby had never heard. “Tyler’s death had noth
ing to do with him marrying you. In fact, we think his death might be the result of a story he was working on. Somebody told Shelby that Tyler worked a lot on a laptop computer, but we haven’t been able to find it.”
“It’s here,” Sissy said. “Tyler knew he was going to meet Fayrene at The Edge and he was afraid to take it with him that night. You know that crowd at The Edge is rough. He was afraid somebody would steal it from him.”
“Did he say why he was meeting Fayrene?” Shelby asked.
“He was working on something important and he said Fayrene might have a missing piece of the puzzle…that’s what he said, but I didn’t really understand. Tyler never talked about his story-writing to me.” She held her hands out in a gesture of helplessness.
“Sissy, could I borrow Tyler’s laptop for a couple of days?” Shelby asked. “I promise I’ll bring it back to you, but I think it may be very important in helping us catch Tyler’s killer.”
Sissy rose from the table and disappeared into a back room. While they waited for her return, Shelby looked around with interest. Though small, the place was meticulously clean. Curtains hung at the window, hand stitched with lace trim. A vase of wildflowers brightened the end table and stood next to a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
Shelby wondered if Tyler had read the sonnets to his wife in the quiet of the night, with the rhythm of the swamp surrounding their home. Her heart ached for Sissy, who would now rock her fatherless child alone, with only the rhythm of the swamp as company. She realized there was no way she could use the information about Tyler and Sissy. She couldn’t risk hurting Sissy.
“You can keep it as long as you want,” Sissy said as she reentered the room, the laptop in hand. “I don’t know much about computers, so there’s no hurry.”
Shelby cradled the laptop, aware that it might hold the key to Tyler’s murder and Billy’s redemption. “You going to be all right?” Billy asked Sissy.
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