by Robin Caroll
The torrential rains continued to beat down, soaking Luc to the skin as he retrieved the mail through the window. He parked the vehicle, then ran to the porch, gripping the mail. Luc stomped his feet and shook the rain from his shoulders before entering the house. If he tracked mud on the entry rug, his mother would have a conniption. She’d complain about the water anyway.
“Luc, is that you? I hope you wiped your feet,” his mother yelled from the kitchen.
Smiling, he shook his head and dropped the mail on the sideboard. Some things were simply a foregone conclusion. His mother’s dramatics being one. “I did.”
“Good. Supper’s almost ready.” She hummed an old tune.
He sniffed—cayenne pepper and okra permeated the air in an enticing aroma. Gumbo, one of his favorite meals. His stomach rumbled, so he headed to the kitchen to see if he could swipe a quick taste.
His mother wore an old apron over a housedress. Lipstick tinted her lips, and a little smudge of flour decorated the tip of her nose. He narrowed his eyes and went over for a quick hug. He couldn’t detect any telltale stench of liquor.
Pulling back, she looked into his eyes. “What was that for?”
“It’s just nice to see you so content.” He shifted his weight, guilt pressing against his chest as he swallowed back his suspicion of her being tipsy. He planted a peck on her cheek. “Besides, when did it become against the law to appreciate one’s mother?”
She smiled, lighting up the whole room, despite the approaching night outside. “You’re a sweet boy, Luc Trahan.” She laid a hand against his cheek for a brief moment before turning back to the stove. “That nice man from the casino called.” “Oh?”
“He said he’d have your grandfather’s personal belongings sent over sometime tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I forgot about that.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a spoon. “This smells divine.”
“Ah, so that’s it. You buttered me up so you’d get a taste.” She shook her head.
He dipped the spoon into the creamy sauce, blowing on it before sliding it into his mouth. His tastebuds exploded, and he sighed his appreciation. “Nobody cooks as good as you do, Mom. This is amazing.”
“Beau’s lawyer called while you were out.”
That stopped his enjoyment. “And?”
“He said he’s been in touch with Justin and that he’ll need all the family to meet after the funeral—for the reading of Beau’s will.”
“Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that.” Truthfully, his mother would need some income since she’d never worked a day in her life. Maybe they could sell the house and split the profit. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the questions and uncertainty. He reached toward the pot again.
His mother swatted his hand, but the blush spread across her face. “Flatterer. Now get, so I can finish.”
Luc chuckled as he dropped the spoon into the sink and headed back to the living room. Now his stomach really growled. Had lunch only been four hours ago? He grabbed the mail off the sideboard, then plopped onto the recliner. The old leather groaned when he lifted the footrest. He flipped through the envelopes.
Sales flyers, grocery ads…all addressed to the occupant. He tossed them into the trash can beside the chair. Four envelopes with the return address of medical facilities. Bills for Felicia’s treatments. How would he be able to continue paying for her medical attention? He set the bills in another stack on the table before continuing to go through the stack.
A handwritten envelope addressed to Beau Trahan from Dwayne Williams.
He ran his finger over the return address. A raindrop had smudged the ink, but the writing was still legible. His heart quickened. Why would CoCo’s lawyer be writing his grandfather? He took in a gulp of air and slipped his finger under the envelope’s flap. The ripping sound echoed.
Luc withdrew the single piece of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. He took a deep breath, then let his gaze scan the single paragraph.
Mr. Trahan, it is my belief you played a mitigating role in the death of my sister, Beulah Williams. It is my intent to uncover the truth and see that those who are responsible are brought to justice.
Finding it hard to breathe, Luc blinked furiously. He stuffed the letter back into the envelope and shoved it in his jeans pocket, then pushed to his feet, lowering the footrest with a loud pop. He snatched his keys off the buffet and hollered, “Mom, I’ve got to run a quick errand. I’ll be back later.”
His mother peeked around the open doorway. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes widening. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know. I need to find Bubba.”
The concern blinked in her eyes. He planted a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Not giving her a chance to ask for further explanation, Luc turned and rushed out the door.
Rain pelted down, causing visibility to be nil in the early evening. He should have grabbed a baseball cap. He turned to the door and heard Felicia’s voice blending with his mother’s. If he went back inside, he’d just have to answer more questions. Ones he didn’t feel up to answering right now. He sprinted for his vehicle.
Luc headed toward the sheriff’s office, taking a quick glance at the digital clock—5:46. He hoped Bubba would be working a little later than usual. He didn’t relish the thought of having to drive clean out to the other side of the bayou if the sheriff had already gone for the day. He touched his jeans pocket—the folded envelope rustled. Why did he feel the need to reassure himself?
The pounding rain made the drive longer than normal, but Luc managed to make it to the station inside of thirty minutes. Sure enough, Bubba’s cruiser sat parked out front. Luc rushed under the awning. He took a moment to catch his breath before jerking open the door.
“Why, Luc Trahan, what brings you by this time of the evening and in such nasty weather?” asked Missy, the town’s dispatcher. She fluffed her platinum curls and batted her eyelashes. She actually batted them.
“Is Bubba still around?” Dumb question since his car was parked outside. Women coming on so strong always made him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, since he and CoCo had broken up, half the women in town seemed determined to change his single status. Now, with Beau dead…the Trahan fortune had to be willed to somebody.
“Sure, I’ll tell him you’re here.” She flashed him a big smile and lifted the intercom receiver. “Sheriff, Luc Trahan is here to see you.” She nodded and hung up the phone. “He’ll be right out.” She popped her gum as she continued to stare and smile.
The popping grated on his nerves.
“How’s your momma and Felicia?”
“Fine. Good, considering.” Maybe if he didn’t look at her she’d go back to doing whatever it was she’d been doing when he’d entered.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” No such luck. She would continue talking to him until she turned blue in the face.
Fate smiled upon him. Bubba ambled up behind Missy. “Luc. What’re you doing here?”
Luc sprung to his feet. “I have something to show you.” He glanced into Missy’s interested eyes, then back to Bubba. “Can we go in your office?”
“Sure.” Bubba pushed the swinging door to let him behind the counter.
Following the sheriff, Luc felt Missy’s eyes burning into his back. Now she would be more than interested, she’d be downright curious about what he had to show Bubba. Someone else speculating—just what he didn’t need.
“Have a seat.” Bubba waved toward a wooden chair in front of his desk and then plopped down in his own. “What’s so important you got out in this weather to show me?”
Luc took a deep breath before pulling out the crumpled envelope. He pushed it across the desk. “This came in the mail today.”
Bubba’s eyes widened, and he lifted the envelope. “You opened this?”
“Yeah. I was curious why CoCo’s lawyer would be sending Grandfather anything.” He inched to the e
dge of the chair. “The return address isn’t his law firm’s, it’s his personal one.”
“I see.” Bubba pulled out the letter. His eyes darted back and forth as he read. He set the letter down and peered at Luc. “This definitely throws another twist into an already messy case.”
Luc swallowed. “I know. It does bear looking into, right?”
“Most definitely.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’ll pay Mr. Williams a visit first thing in the morning.”
“Can I go?” Excitement pushed Luc’s leg to bounce.
“It’s official police business, Luc. You can’t go. You’re the grandson of the victim.”
“I rea—”
Bubba held up his hand. “I know. I promise if I find anything, I’ll call you.” His gaze raked over Luc. “That’s the best I can do.”
“Okay.” He pushed to his feet, the excitement drained from his limbs. It’d been another long day. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“I’ll let you know what I can, as soon as I can.” Bubba moved around the desk and clapped Luc’s back. “Hang in there, buddy. We’ll find who killed Beau and see that justice is served.”
The intensity of the rain had decreased. Luc strode to his vehicle, then sat behind the wheel, trying to organize his thoughts. The security lights outside the police station blinked. Through the rain, they cast prisms of light across the windshield. Like a spell. Luc swallowed. Would everything remind him of CoCo?
He started the ignition and pointed the SUV toward the LeBlanc’s place. No matter what Bubba found out tomorrow, CoCo had a right to know her lawyer could be involved in his grandfather’s murder. Luc didn’t want to wait to tell her.
As he headed down her street, he couldn’t help but question his own motives. Wasn’t he going to tell her for a more personal, selfish reason?
So he could see her again.
CoCo waited until Tara had retired to her room to speak to Grandmere. Her grandmother sat on the couch, flipping through one of her handwritten journals. She glanced up as CoCo plopped beside her.
“What is it, ma chère? You look like you have something on your mind.”
“I do. Can you tell me anything about the history of this house?”
Grandmere closed her leather book. “Anything in particular you want to know?”
How could she extract the information without setting off alarm bells in Grandmere? She licked her lips. “I know it’s pre-Civil War. Has it always been in our family? Like during the war?”
Her grandmother smiled. “My grandpere built this house himself, ma chère, well before the war. My father was born and raised here.” Her eyes became unfocused. “Did you know several families holed up in this here house when the Yankees came?”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Many local families had already lost their homes and took refuge here.” She smiled that distant, I’m-not-in-the-present smile. “They brought their silver to bury alongside my family’s in the backyard.”
CoCo fought to not jump with all the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She forced herself to speak calmly. “Silver? Buried here?”
Grandmere broke out of her memories and stared at CoCo. “The Yankees found most of it anyway.” She looked to the floor, the wistfulness covering her expression again. “Some say that money is hidden in these walls, but I’ve never seen proof of such.”
“Money?” CoCo’s heart sped into overdrive. The coin. The coin!
“Oh, ma chère, I think that’s just a story. Legend. Something to tell the little ones.” Grandmere smiled, years taken off her appearance by the gesture.
“You never told us that tale.”
Her grandmother shrugged. “There were other things to occupy your minds.” Her voice held a hint of grief.
The sentiment was contagious. CoCo’s own heart twisted at the thought of the loss of her parents. She shoved the memories and pain from her mind. “People really believe there might be money hidden in this house?”
Grandmere laughed. “Most folk like to believe in treasures, pirates and hidden riches, ma chère.” She lowered her brows. “Why all the questions?”
“Just wondering. Never heard the story before.”
“Wasn’t important.” Her grandmother grabbed her book and struggled to her feet. “I think I’m going to retire.”
CoCo pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s parchment-paper skin. “Good night, Grandmere.”
Her grandmother shuffled down the hall, her steps weighted with age. CoCo closed her eyes and offered up yet another prayer for the woman she dearly loved. Why couldn’t Grandmere understand salvation was hers for the asking? Stubbornness, that’s what stopped her.
A knock rapped on the door, causing CoCo to spin around. Who’d come calling this time of the evening? She cracked the door, her heart tripping as she peered at Luc Trahan’s large form on her porch.
“CoCo, I need to talk to you.” His voice still sent spirals of joy through her.
She toughened her tone. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
His eyes, the ones that always spoke directly to her heart, blinked. “Please, just hear me out. There’s new information.”
Curiosity always had been a weakness of hers. She pulled the door open. “Come on in, I guess.”
He hovered at the threshold, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides of the doorjamb. “Actually, I’d rather talk to you alone. Can we sit on the porch?”
She glanced over her shoulder. No sign that the knock had disrupted her grandmother or sister. “I guess so.” CoCo flipped on the porch light before following him to the porch and taking a seat in one of the big rockers.
The rain had softened to a gentle mist, but had cooled the air. A breeze swept off the bayou, filling the wind with the smell of fresh soil. CoCo breathed in the scent, drawing strength from its familiarity.
Luc hunkered down in the rocker next to her. “I found a letter today. A letter to Beau.”
She cocked her head. “I’m listening.”
He paused, as if to garner fortitude. “From your lawyer.”
Now that could be interesting. “About the eviction?”
“No. It was a personal letter to Beau, not even on Williams’s law firm letterhead.” He shifted in the rocker, the wood creaking under him. “It basically accused Beau of being involved with the death of his sister.”
She couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping. “What?”
“I know. The letter also said Dwayne Williams would prove it.” He ran a hand over his dark hair.
“Oh, my.” Things seemed to fall into place. The quick initial appointment…Dwayne’s fast acceptance of the case…his comment about already having an investigation going on Beau. CoCo’s hands shook when she lifted them to cover her mouth. “This puts a new spin on things, doesn’t it?”
His eyes were soft as he studied her. “I took the letter to the sheriff tonight. He’s going to talk to Williams in the morning.”
Words failed her. The enormity of the situation hit her. “Could I have unwittingly been a party to Beau’s murder?”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Of course not. No one is responsible for the actions of others.”
She grazed her teeth over her bottom lip and met his stare. Hadn’t he blamed her for his father’s death, making her feel responsible for the actions of an animal? She jerked her hand from his and shot to her feet. “I need to call Dwayne—find out what’s going on.”
“No.” He stood and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You can’t. You aren’t supposed to know about the letter.”
“He’s my lawyer. I deserve to know what ulterior motives he had for taking my case.” Another thought marched across her mind, filling her with trepidation. “Luc, he’s my representation in the investigation of Beau’s murder.”
Luc pulled her to him, drawing her into a hug. She laid her head against his chest. Just for a moment, she’d let his strength feed her. She needed the support ri
ght now. Her world had just tilted on its axis, and she couldn’t think straight.
“Bubba will find out more tomorrow.” The words came not only from his mouth, but she could feel the rumble from his chest.
Along with the thudding of his heart. Hers matched his, beat for beat. What was she doing? This was Luc, the man who’d deserted her, blamed her for his father’s death, walked away when she needed him most.
CoCo pushed herself free from his embrace and met his stare. His eyes held questions, but something else glimmered there. Something familiar…something recognizable…oh, she knew that look. Attraction. She swallowed and broke eye contact. One thing she didn’t need was to get tangled up in an emotional tornado with Luc Trahan. Not again.
“Are you okay?” He moved toward her.
She backed up a step. “I’m just wondering what’s going on.” She pressed her lips together.
“I meant what I said before. I don’t believe you or your family had anything to do with Grandfather’s death. And about the diner—I’m sorry. I was way out of line.” He let out a long sigh, as if it’d been pent-up too long. “I realize how innocent words and events can sometimes make you look guilty.”
Could that be the voice of experience talking? “What do you mean?”
He stared out into the darkness. “I need to be honest with you, CoCo. I’m a suspect in my grandfather’s murder.”
TWELVE
Surprise stole her voice.
Luc turned to meet her gaze. “It’s true. Bubba’s running tests on that gun you found because one of Beau’s shotguns is missing from the house. If it comes back registered to Grandfather…” He held her look.
Who in their right mind would think Luc could have anything to do with the murder of his own grandfather?
“Just because a gun is missing, doesn’t mean you killed your grandfather, Luc.”
“He and I argued the day he died. Seems that gives me motive.” His voice cracked and his eyes glistened.
Her heart ached. She’d seen that same expression when his father had died. Now he looked broken in spirit. CoCo moved to him, taking both his hands in hers. “No one would believe you had anything to do with his death.” She stared straight into the depths of his eyes. “No one.”