Bayou Betrayal (18 page)

“I loved you more.”

She smiled and stood, patting his shoulder. “Exactly. But you wouldn't have understood all that back then.”

“I still don't get your point.”

Grabbing his plate and glass, she set them in the sink and then faced him. “Maybe Monique is at the end of the teenager phase in her spiritual life right now, where Father's calling her out to supper and she's being stubborn and not talking to Him. That doesn't mean she doesn't still love Him.” She kissed his cheek. “Think about that for a while.”

She wiped the table in front of him with a dish towel. “And think about maybe how you could help her see that sometimes understanding takes time. That's why they say hindsight is twenty-twenty. Monday morning quarterbacking is always easier than playing on Sunday night.”

As usual, she was right.

Gary pushed to his feet and kissed her temple. “How'd I get so lucky to have such a wise mother?”

“Just blessed, I suppose.” She laughed.

“I guess so. Thanks for everything, Mom.”

Driving back to the station, he considered his mother's advice.
Dear God, guide me to be a living testament of You for Monique. Show me how to help her understand Your will.

W
hat was she thinking?

Almost a decade had passed since Monique had been out on a date with anyone besides Kent. Why had she agreed to go out with Gary?

Because he was the first man since Kent who made her feel that maybe love could come her way again.

Standing in front of her closet, she stared at her meager options. Why hadn't she bought anything dressy when she'd gone clothes shopping with Felicia and CoCo? Since the fire, she'd only shopped for clothes once, and hadn't gotten anything that'd be considered remotely dressy.

She glanced at the two-year-old Catahoula she'd adopted this afternoon from the Humane Society. He sat staring at her with those incredible brown-and-blue puppy-dog eyes of his.

“Whatcha think, Homer?”

He tilted his head and made a throaty whine.

No help. She was crazy. Certifiable. She let out a sigh and grabbed her black tuxedo slacks and a white button-down shirt. They'd have to do. “Come on, Homer.” She padded into the bathroom, the dog on her heels.

She'd barely finished applying her makeup and fighting with her hair, which refused to cooperate, when a knock sounded at the front door.

Homer ran down the hall, his toenails clicking against the wood floor.

Monique tossed the brush into the basket on the vanity, stuck her tongue out at her reflection and followed the dog. “Homer, quiet down. Sit. Good boy.” She opened the door slowly, keeping the dog in her peripheral vision.

Gary stood in the doorway, dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a blue sweater that brought out the clarity of his eyes. Her heart pounded against her throat. “You look lovely.” He handed her a small bouquet of mixed flowers.

Oh, her heart really thumped now.

“Th-thank you.” She opened the door all the way. “Come on in. I need to let Homer out before I leave.”

Gary knelt in front of the dog, who continued to make intermittent throaty growls. “You really adopted one.”

“Yep. He's a good watchdog, at least from what the lady at the Humane Society said.” She noticed the cautiousness with which Homer sniffed Gary. “I think she's right.”

“A Catahoula, huh?” Gary stroked the dog's head.

“Why not? Figured it was appropriate, since the breed began here in Louisiana.”

“They're great treeing dogs.”

“So I've been told.” Monique smiled and raked her teeth over her bottom lip. “Come on, Homer. Outside.” She moved to the kitchen and opened the door.

The dog ran around, sniffing around the bayou's edge.

“He's already a great companion. He laid at my feet while I sat in my rocker this afternoon reading.” Heat infused her cheeks.

“I'm glad you like the chair.”

The dog ran back up the steps. Monique shut the door behind him. She checked his bowls, refilled his water and then grabbed her purse. “Ready?”

Gary nodded and led the way out the front door. Homer stood in the doorway. Monique snapped her fingers. “Stay, Homer.” The dog whimpered but dropped to his haunches.

She locked the door and pushed a button on her key fob. A beep sounded inside. “There, all set. I just hope Homer doesn't press too hard against the windows, or the alarm will go off.”

“They got everything installed, yes?”

“All the bells and whistles, pun intended.” She grinned as he led her to a truck. “Where's the cruiser?”

“I'm not on duty tonight. Is Luc coming back over to crash on your sofa again tonight?”

She smiled. “No. No curfew tonight. Since I got the alarm system and dog, I told him I'd be okay on my own.”

Little zaps tingled through her as he placed his hand on the small of her back while he opened the passenger door. Tucked inside, she watched him walk in front of the truck to get behind the wheel. She couldn't help but notice the confidence in his walk, the strong lines of his posture….

He opened the door. “I took the liberty of making reservations at Cajun's Wharf. Hope that's okay?”

“I guess. I have no clue.”

“Good. They serve really good food, but just finished some remodeling, so I'm anxious to see how it's changed.”

On the ride to the restaurant, she told him about the meeting with Marshall Hudson. She finished as he pulled into the parking lot. “So, needless to say, I'm thinking that special fund should be deposited into the regular Trahan trust account.”

“Sounds good to me.” He shook his head and led her into the restaurant. “Ole Beau…he was devious, that's for sure. But from what I've heard, because of Justin's reputation, Beau would've had reason to think Justin would have heirs coming out of the woodwork.”

The hostess seated them almost immediately. A corner window table—wow, he must really rate. A candle sat atop a mirror in the center of the table, creating a romantic setting. Soft classical music filtered in from the overhead speakers. And the aroma filling the restaurant…it made her mouth water just to sit and smell the spices.

Over bread and tea, they made small talk. She sensed that he wanted to talk to her about something specific but held back. “How was your day?”

“Not bad. I spent it working the case. I'd like to run a couple of names by you, just to see if you recognize them.”

“Sure.”

“Know a Niles Patterson or Kevin Haynie?”

She swallowed the bread. “No, should I?”

“Just some locals who popped up on the suspect list.” He brought her up to speed on the interviews he'd conducted.

“I'm sorry. I wish I recognized either of them.”

“Me, too.”

The waitress appeared with their entrees of jambalaya, providing a welcome reprieve. The food was excellent, prepared with just the right amount of spice for flavor, but not enough to burn her throat.

For some reason, Monique didn't sense the ease she normally felt around Gary. Had she been out of the dating scene so long she couldn't relax and enjoy a date with a man she genuinely cared about? Her emotions were all tangled and twisted. Maybe she should've figured out what she really felt before she accepted his invitation.

But as she looked across the table into his eyes, she knew that, given the same opportunity, she'd accept his invitation all over again, without analysis.

Despite the discomfort and awkwardness.

 

He was blowing it big-time.

Gary struggled for something to say, when all he wanted to do was approach her about her relationship with God. Ever since his mother had talked with him, he'd been recharged and excited about discussing faith with Monique.

But now, sitting with her, he was afraid he'd upset her if he broached the subject. It wasn't like he could just blurt out, “Hey, you need to mature a little so you'll understand why God did whatever He did that made you so mad.” Nope, wouldn't be the smartest way to introduce the subject.

He paid the check and they stepped out into the cool night. “Want to walk along the boardwalk for a little bit, or are you cold?”

“I'm fine. A walk sounds nice.”

Taking her hand, he led her down the steps behind the restaurant to the boardwalk running alongside the bayou. Little battery-operated lights lined the walkway. The water lapped gently against the wood pylons, keeping time with their footfalls. The clean scents of earth and water surrounded them. A perfect scene, marred only by his own hesitation.

They walked a way before she stopped and turned to face him. “Would you just spit out what's on your mind? I can't stand the awkwardness anymore.”

Gary looked into her animated green eyes, about to tell her how important her relationship with God was to him when something went awry. He carefully took her face in his hands. Her skin felt smooth and soft under his palms. Ducking his head, he put his lips to hers.

She responded, and his heart lurched. He pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss. Strange things happened to him suddenly. His stomach tightened, his pulse raced and heat infused his spine. Like the flu or something.

He ended the kiss, fighting not to gasp for air, and stared into her clouded eyes.

She laid a hand against his cheek. The flu symptoms worsened. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip. Oh, he'd need an ER soon.

Tweedle. Tweedle. Tweedle.

She jumped back and opened her purse. “I can't imagine who'd call, except Felicia or Luc.” She flipped open her cell and pressed it to her ear. “Hello.”

Gary took the moment to regulate his breathing. He'd never felt this way, reacted this way to a woman before.

“Yes, this is she.”

How had he gotten so sidetracked? Something about the way she looked at him…

“Yes. Code word is Justin, J-u-s-t-i-n.”

He jerked his attention to her.

Her stare met his. “Hold on a moment.” She pressed the mute button. “It's the alarm company. My alarm's been activated. The breakage sensor on the front window. It might just be Homer. They want to know if they should call the police.”

“Tell them I'm with you and will check it out.”

She pressed the button again. “I'm with a sheriff's deputy now. He said he'll take me home and check it out.”

Gary silently prayed it was only the dog.

“Yes. Thank you.” She closed the phone. “They said they'll call back in fifteen minutes for verification.”

“Let's go.” He led her up the steps and to the truck. After opening the door for her and letting her get settled, he opened the glove box and pulled out his service revolver.

Gary raced through town, wishing he'd brought the cruiser so he could use the lights and sirens. Cutting his eyes to her, he noticed her pallor. And the worry settling in her brow. “It's probably just the dog.”

“I hope so. I don't know.” She chewed her bottom lip.

He pressed the accelerator harder. Within minutes, he turned into her driveway. Lights flashed from her porch, as well as the motion sensor beams mounted on the four corners of the house. A wailing screech nearly burst his eardrums as they opened the doors.

Monique pressed the button on her key fob and silence settled over the bayou.

Gary withdrew his gun from its holster. “Stay here. I mean it.” He crept alongside the house, eyes peeled for any type of movement. Rounding the corner to the back, he came upon Homer, barking furiously.

Gary ignored the dog and kept moving around the perimeter. He stared intently at the bayou. Lots of places someone could hide. Although with the sirens and lights going off, if someone had been at the house, they were probably long gone now.

Unless they were just plain stupid.

He finished his walk-around and holstered his gun before returning to the truck, where Monique stood holding Homer's collar. “I didn't see anybody.”

She sighed and pointed to the window. “Probably Homer. Looks like he broke it trying to get out.” She moved toward the house.

He looked at the front window, studying the breakage pattern as he followed her. “Hold on, Monique.”

She spun. “What?”

“I don't think the dog broke the window.”

“Then what did?”

“I don't know. Let me check it out.”

She unlocked the door, and he preceded her into the house. Homer nearly knocked him over, trying to nudge inside. “Down, boy. It's me.”

Monique took hold of Homer's collar while Gary moved into the living room, hand on the butt of his firearm. Again, he didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to stick around after the alarm went off, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

He flipped on the light in the living room. Everything looked the way it had when they'd left mere hours ago. But what did he know about little things out of place?

Then he saw it. Shards of glass littered the floor in front of the window.

A large rock with paper held securely by a rubber band lay in the middle of the glass.

Monique gasped behind him. “What's that?”

“A message, I'd guess.” He secured the holster for his firearm. “Let me run out to my truck and grab some latex gloves. Go ahead and call your alarm company back and tell them what's going on. I'll call Mike and have him bring the crime scene kit over.” He nodded at the dog. “You need to put him up somewhere. I know he's probably already been all over the evidence in here, but we need to minimize contamination of the scene as much as possible.”

As he headed out to the truck, he called Mike, all the while wishing he'd brought the cruiser. He explained to Mike what he needed, grabbed his spare latexes from the glove box and headed back inside. Although he was fairly certain no one was in the house, he didn't want to leave Monique alone.