Bayou Betrayal (19 page)

He entered the house to find Monique walking down the hall, closing her cell phone. “Homer's shut in the bedroom, and the alarm company said they'd verify with your office.” She shrugged. “I guess that's to make sure a deputy's really onsite?”

“Yeah, they do that.” He popped the latex gloves on with a snap. “Do you have a digital camera?”

“I have all of Kent's.” She turned, then froze. “No. All his equipment burned up in the fire.” She trembled. “Why didn't I leave those in the truck with the guns?”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Shh. It's okay.”

She sniffled and leaned against him. He could so get used to this.

Sirens wailed, louder and louder. Strobing lights shone down the driveway.

Gary stepped away from her. “Mike's here with the kit.”

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and let out a sigh.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine. Thanks.”

Mike stuck his head in the door. “In here?”

“Come on.” Gary took the case from Mike and opened it. He passed the digital camera to the other man. “You know the drill. Whole living room, but focus on the window and the floor. Start with the floor so I can bag evidence. Then I need you to check the ground around the area outside. Try to find a footprint, track, anything.”

“You got it, boss.”

Gary stilled for a moment. Boss? He liked that. Shaking his head, he withdrew evidence bags from the kit. Mike finished snapping photos of the floor and moved on to the window. Gary slipped some of the glass into a bag, careful not to slice his gloves. He took the rock, carefully removing the rubber band and placing it in another bag.

He unwrapped the paper from the rock and smoothed it. Bold, black, block lettering stated the ominous message.

F
ury held her hostage.

Monique stared at the letter Gary held. To keep violating her things…The nerve of the creep.

Gary slipped the letter into an envelope. “We'll have the lab analyze this pronto. Fingerprints, paper, everything.”

Monique didn't feel any better once the letter was tucked away. So what if it was out of sight? The letter had been yet one more thing to invade her peace. Her sense of belonging.

The other deputy moved outside, camera flash lighting constantly. When would the barrage end? When this jerk followed through with his threats? This one said it was her last warning. Would he come after her?

She had her guns, hadn't even gotten them out of the Expedition when she moved here, which was good, considering they'd have burnt up in the fire. She knew she could defend herself but the point was, she shouldn't have to. Counting the call to Hattie, this was his fifth contact. About five too many.

The deputy on the outside talked to Gary through the hole in the window. “I have some duct tape in the kit. If we tape it from both sides that should be good to hold it overnight.”

“Good thinking.” Gary dug in the kit and pulled out the silver tape. He secured several strips over the hole on the inside, then took the roll outside. He came back inside and bent to retrieve all the evidence bags.

“Maybe you should call Luc to come stay tonight.”

“I have the alarm system and Homer. I'm fine.” What could any of them do? Nothing. Not Gary, not the entire Vermilion parish sheriff's office. And she wouldn't call Luc and put him in danger. She could handle this on her own.

She
would
handle this herself.

Gary stood and placed the evidence bags in the case. “If you'll get me a broom, I'll clean up this glass for you.”

“You know what you can do for me? Find this guy. Make him stop bothering me.” Maybe she was misdirecting her anger, but seriously…five times he'd pushed her, and the police still hadn't apprehended him.

Gary's Adam's apple bobbed against the collar of his sweater. “We're doing everything we can, Monique.”

“It's not enough. He's still able to get to me. My security system, my dog—they're all measures I've taken to protect myself. What has the sheriff's department done but come after the fact and clean up the mess? I've had enough.”

“That's not fair. We have laws, rules that we have to foll—”

“You follow those rules but it doesn't get me anywhere, does it? You don't know who this guy is, where he is, why he's targeting me.”

“We don't have much to go on. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I also know I can't take much more of this.” Her voice hitched on the last word, but she didn't care. She was tired of being violated. Tired of being threatened. Tired of getting no answers.

Gary stared at her, pain shimmering in his eyes.

No, she wouldn't let her attraction for him distract her. This guy had to be found and stopped. Before he finally came after her, instead of her property. She steeled her heart. “Are you finished here?”

“Monique.”

“Are you done,
Deputy?
”

His jaw hardened as he glanced out the window. “I think so.”

“Then I guess you should go. Get back to the office and file a report.”

“Monique.”

“Just go. Please.” Her throat tightened, but she needed him to leave before she broke down. It was all too much for her right now. “And don't you dare call Luc or Spence. I don't need a babysitter. I can handle this just fine on my own.”

“I'll call you in the morning.” He took a step toward her, stopped for a moment, then turned and strode out the door.

She dead-bolted the lock and activated the alarm system. Leaning against the door, she inhaled slowly. Until he'd left, she wouldn't break down. She couldn't chance him coming back for something and seeing her crying.

After retrieving the broom and dustpan from the kitchen pantry, she cleaned up the glass. She'd have to call someone to replace the window in the morning. Would she forever be spending her days repairing or replacing what this creep took from her?

She made her way down the hall and opened the bedroom door. Homer nearly knocked her over. She stroked his head and moved back into the living room. The taillights from the cruiser and Gary's truck dimmed as they turned onto the road.

Sinking onto the couch, she released the pent-up tears. Her body shook as she sobbed. Homer jumped onto the cushion beside her, nudging her with his snout. She wrapped her arms around the bulk of a dog and cried into his fur.

What a mess her life had become. She'd once thought she had a charmed life. Ha. That was back when she'd just married Kent and they were building his business. So much had happened since then. So much change. Not that all of it was bad—finding her cousins was wonderful, but losing Kent had nearly killed her.

Now it seemed someone was determined to finish the task.

She sniffed and gave Homer's chin a good rub. She glanced around the room. Maybe she should be satisfied that she had a house, a family and a good dog. But her heart screamed out for more. It wanted love.

Gary's image drifted across her mind.

She'd been horrible to him. It wasn't his fault this jerk kept coming after her. “Oh, Homer, I'm such an emotional mess.”

The dog tilted his head and stared at her. A moment later, he licked the end of her nose.

She laughed and hugged him again. Her gaze lit on Felicia and Spence's housewarming gift. Such a peaceful photograph. Without intent, she read the second part of the Scripture aloud. “You will protect me from trouble.”

Really? Sure didn't feel like she was being protected. Kent hadn't been protected. Her mother hadn't been protected. Monique's entire life hadn't been protected. How could this Scripture make such a promise?

Curious and determined, she grabbed her purse from the buffet just inside the door. Homer looked at her like she was crazy and went to his food bowl in the kitchen. Monique's hand automatically wrapped around Kent's Bible in the side pocket of her purse. She went back to the couch and flipped through the pages until she found Psalm 32. She began reading at verse1. She sucked in air when she got to verse 9.

Had she become like a horse or mule? Too stubborn to go where she should?

Something in her heart jumped in response to her questions. Her eyes went back to the text.

Was God trying to get her attention? Lead her into understanding? Had she resisted to the point where she had to be controlled?

Everything inside her seemed to hum.

New tears searing her eyelids, she dropped to her knees and prayed.

 

He didn't deserve the promotion.

Gary berated himself as he dragged himself into the office that night. Monique had been right—he hadn't been able to find the arsonist, much less catch him.

“I'll get the reports put into the system,” Mike called as he moved down the hallway.

“When you're done, would you mind staking out Ms. Harris's house?” Gary asked.

Mike grinned and slightly ducked his head. “For some strange reason, I think it best if I did all the stakeouts. Didn't exactly sound like she was happy with you tonight.”

“No, she wasn't.” Gary ran a hand down his scrubbed face. “Thanks. I'll cover things here in the morning so you can get some sleep.”

“No worries. I'm used to functioning on little to no sleep. Military does that to you.”

Mike would actually be a great chief deputy. Attentive, smart and the guy had great cop instincts.

Gary shuddered as his dream took a nosedive. He shoved away the grief and focused on filling out the lab requests. Why couldn't he get a lead on this guy? There had to be something, some little clue he'd missed.

After finishing the lab forms, he pulled out his notebook. Maybe rereading his notes, fresh, would give him a new approach. Or at least a direction in which to go.

An hour into reading and Mike stuck his head in the door. “All done with the reports. Need me to do anything else before I head to Ms. Harris's place?”

“No. Thanks, Mike.”

After the deputy left, Gary continued to reread his notes. Then the reports on Niles Patterson, Terrence Fenton and Kevin Haynie. There was something here, he just knew it. Felt it. His vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes. Why couldn't he find it? Frustration rammed against his skull.

Father God, I come to You in desperation. I know the link to the arsonist is here, but my human eyes are blinded. I pray for wisdom, for You to show me the light on which direction to take.

He'd better call it a night before he fell asleep at the desk. Shutting his notebook, he slipped it back into his pocket and then pushed the reports back into their folders. He checked to make sure he hadn't mixed up any papers when his gaze fell on the rap sheet of Kevin Haynie. His eyes went to the incarceration history.

Eight months incarcerated on petty drug charges. Released February of last year. Served six months parole, was released from parole in August.

Something…

He flipped through the pages to get to more detail. Finally, he found the presentence report, judge's orders and incarceration paperwork.

Sentenced to eight months at Oakdale Federal Correctional Institution in Louisiana.

The same prison Justin Trahan was serving time in!

Could be nothing—a druggie, murderer and arsonist didn't exactly make common bedfellows, but stranger things had happened. And it gave Haynie a connection to Monique.

Gary turned on his computer and waited for it to boot up. If he could find out if there was a relationship between Justin and Kevin, he'd have a lead. He struggled to keep his hopes from soaring.

After logging into the government system, he accessed the prison facility in Oakdale, then did an inmate search. While Oakdale had a satellite prison camp, which Haynie should've qualified for with his short sentence, he'd been put in low security, which was where Justin served. Gary recalled being shocked that a double murderer had been sentenced to a low-security prison, but Justin was a Trahan, and that meant money. Big bucks had a lot of pull, even on a federal level. And if Justin was somehow connected to these threats against Monique…

Gary pulled the warden's e-mail address, opened his mail program and shot off an e-mail requesting more information regarding Kevin Haynie and Justin Trahan. Too bad it was so late. But using his deputy sheriff's title and return e-mail, he should get an answer first thing tomorrow morning.

Might be nothing, but it was more than what he had to go on now.

 

Grrrr!

Monique rolled over and eyed Homer. The dog stood at the window facing the bayou, his hackles raised.

She jumped out of bed and wrapped herself in a robe. “What is it, boy?” she whispered.

Homer continued to bark, mixing in a deep growl from his chest.

Goose bumps prickled her skin. She slipped on her Crocs and tiptoed to the window. Hiding behind the curtains, she peeked through the pane.

A full moon bathed the bayou, glistening and shimmering as the wind gently caressed the Spanish moss draped over tree limbs. Soft ripples made their way over the water to the bayou's edge.

The dog barked louder, followed by a growl.

“Shh, Homer. Quiet.”

The dog stopped barking but continued to move toward the window. She grabbed his collar and jerked him behind her.

Then she heard it—movement outside the house.

She rushed to her closet, and grabbed her lockbox. Her fingers went numb as she fumbled with the lock. Finally, it opened, and she pulled out her 9 mm. Monique slipped it from its holster and slid off the safety. “Stay,” she ordered Homer before creeping down the hall to the kitchen door.

After disengaging the alarm system, she eased off the dead bolt, pushed the door open a crack and peeked out. Nothing. She stole outside to the steps, nudging the door closed behind her. She stopped and listened, adrenaline pushing her ears into supersensitivity.

Footsteps came around from the back of the house.

She crept down the steps, avoiding the one that creaked, with gun held in ready position. The January air cooled the sweat lining her palms. She flexed her fingers and readjusted her hold on the gun's grip.

Slowly, she worked her back to the side of the house. Dew on the hedges smeared against her robe, chilling her. Her heart thudded in double time as she crept along the house.