Bayou Betrayal (5 page)

The older man stood just inside the office. “Deputy Anderson.”

Gary moved past him and sat behind the desk, waving him to the chairs. The faint remnants of smoke and ash clogged the air surrounding the fire chief. Gary cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming by.”

The man shook his head. “No problem. Just wanted to let you know that we've determined the fire was arson. A form of diesel fuel was used as the accelerant.”

So Monique had been right. “Any clues?”

“Not yet. We've called in the arson investigation unit. They'll send an investigator down this way tomorrow. We'll know more once he gets here and does his initial walk-through.”

Gary stood and offered his hand. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

The older man shuffled from the office, leaving Gary alone with his thoughts. Again his logic and emotions were at war. On the one hand, he had the utmost sympathy and compassion for Monique and what she'd endured and would have to continue to face in the coming weeks and months. But on the flip side, excitement filled him. A real case. One that needed solving. And if he managed to pull that off before the sheriff returned, he'd be a shoe-in for the chief deputy position. Add to that the concern for Monique. Now there was proof positive her house had been burned down on purpose. What if someone was intent on finishing the job they'd started? Was it just a scare tactic, or was Monique really in danger?

But it wasn't just that he felt he'd earned the promotion. No, the new position also came with a raise. With the extra money, he could do more for his mother. Buy her some of the nice things she'd never had. With all the sacrifices she'd made for him over the years, he wanted to make her life easier, help her out more financially.

The minutes ticked by as he weighed his dilemma. He prayed for guidance, then pushed to his feet. He needed to get back to the motel to pick up Monique.

She was standing in the doorway when he pulled into the parking lot. Decked out in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt of his mother's, she looked barely eighteen. The urge to protect and shield her sparked in him again. Especially when she smiled at him as she hobbled to the car.

He jumped out and opened the passenger door for her, then shut it firmly after she was tucked safely inside.

“I really appreciate the ride. I called the front desk and booked the room for a couple of weeks. I need to call my insurance company Monday. I don't suppose they're open on Sunday.” She let out a heavy sigh. “So much to do that I almost don't know where to start.”

He turned the car toward her place. “Monique, the fire chief has made his preliminary report.”

“And?”

“Arson.”

“I knew it.” She nodded, but more to herself than him.

“They've called in an arson investigator.”

“Good. I'll need to let my insurance company know.”

Did she realize she'd be the first person they looked into? With arson, they always investigated the person who owned the property, who stood to gain from a loss. Especially when it was heavily insured. Did she have a big policy? “Who's your insurance with?”

“Bayou Insurance.” She let out a chuckle, and his heart skipped. Throaty and deep, her laugh did strange things to his insides. “Isn't that just a fitting name?”

He filed away the information and joined her chuckle. “I guess so.”

“So, I'm going to have to look for a rental or something until I can find another place to buy. Know any good rentals?”

“You aren't going to pack it up and go home?”

She cocked her head. “And let someone run me off with my tail between my legs? Not hardly. I've had quite enough of other people wreaking havoc in my life, thank you very much. I won't let myself become a victim again. Besides, I sold my house in Monroe—I have no family there. This is my home now.”

She exuded a quiet strength, one he had to respect. If only she didn't look so young and exposed. “Sure, I can recommend a couple of rental places.”

“I'd appreciate that.”

He steered the car into her driveway and felt rather than heard her gasp. She opened the door as soon as the cruiser came to a stop.

“Oh, my.”

The air still reeked of smoke, but at least his eyes didn't burn. He followed her toward her car, holding her elbow as she picked her way over the rocks and loose gravel.

She stared at the still smoldering embers that had once been her home. “There's nothing to salvage.” She swallowed hard. “Everything's gone. My wedding album, the china Kent and I got for a wedding present…It's almost as if my life is slowly being erased.”

“I'm sorry.” And he truly was.

She met his stare. “I'll find out who did this, and see justice served.”

Her tone left no question as to whether or not she was serious. “This is a police matter now. You need to let us handle it.”

She turned her gaze back to the rubble, and didn't reply.

W
hy was she so nervous?

Monique fumbled with the buttons to the dress she'd bought yesterday. Her hands felt better, to the point where she hadn't needed as much gauze this morning. Her feet, however, were still an issue. No way would she be able to wear dress shoes to church this morning. She'd have to make do with the slip-on Crocs Ms. Della had given her.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, she again questioned her nervousness. Going to a new church for the first time always put people a bit on edge. But it was more than that for Monique. She hadn't darkened the door of a sanctuary since Kent's funeral. And today her reasons for attending weren't to mend the rift between her and God, although she knew she'd have to deal with that relationship later. Today, her main reason—her only reason, to be honest—was to check out Felicia Trahan Bertrand, the pastor's wife and Monique's cousin.

She couldn't depend on Gary Anderson to adequately question Felicia about the menacing phone call. His entire attitude whenever she suggested either of her cousins could be involved in the call or the arson was laughable. He simply didn't take the possibility seriously. Sure, the woman was a pastor's wife, but in Monique's experience from assisting Kent in his private investigation business, no one—not preachers nor their wives—was above suspicion. Determination to uncover the truth drove her to finish dressing and flip off the bathroom light.

No more procrastination. She grabbed her purse and keys, secured the motel room door, and shuffled to her SUV. The nice desk clerk had given her instructions to Pastor Bertrand's church just outside Lagniappe's city limits.

The sun shone brightly over the bayou and little sunbeams danced on the cracked windshield of her Expedition. She shook her head. The cracks hadn't been there before—the heat from the fire must have caused them. Just something else she'd have to handle.

She pulled into the packed parking lot of the church. Didn't anyone attend the church in Lagniappe? She hadn't expected this many cars. How would she be able to pick out her cousin and study her?

With great hesitation, Monique made her way toward the timeworn church sitting on the edge of the bayou. A burst of wind skimmed over the water, carrying a fishy odor on its wings. Monique crinkled her nose and gripped the handrail. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself by falling down the steps. Nope, that wouldn't be good at all.

A man not much older than she, with shaggy hair and a big grin, held out his hand. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Her voice was barely over a whisper. What was wrong with her? The butterflies in her stomach refused to be still.

“I'm Spencer Bertrand.” He took her elbow and helped her up the last stair, glancing at her hands but politely making no mention of the gauze.

Her cousin's husband, in the flesh. “I-I'm Monique. Monique Harris.”

“Are you visiting the area?” His eyes were soft, caring, like a preacher's should be.

She licked her chapped lips. “I just moved to Lagniappe.”

“Then, welcome.” He opened the door to the sanctuary for her before turning to greet the next group of people making their way up the stairs.

Monique let out a slow breath as she stepped into the entryway. The sanctuary loomed before her like a hungry, gaping mouth. She shivered and knew it had nothing to do with the crisp January morning.

Music surrounded her as she walked down the well-traveled carpet, trying to spot a vacant pew somewhere near the back. She wanted to be able to watch, see if she could spot her cousin, the preacher's wife. As she eased into an aisle seat, the bass reverberated in her chest so that she actually
felt
the worship song.

All around her, people whispered or greeted one another. Some stood and sang along with the music. The old familiar peace beckoned to her, calling into the deepest part of her soul. Uninvited tears filled her eyes. She blinked and shook her head, not ready to let go of her anger, her outrage. Her fear.

A young woman with honey-colored hair walked up the center aisle, stopping at each pew to speak to someone. Monique couldn't take her eyes off the woman. Although a noticeable limp marred her movement, there was a quiet grace about her. An ethereal glow flowed from her.

She smiled at Monique and moved toward her, hand outstretched. “Hello. Welcome to the church.”

Monique touched the woman's hand with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you.”

“I'm Felicia Bertrand.”

Freezing, Monique struggled to form her own name. This was her cousin! “I'm M-Monique Harris.”

Felicia's smile widened. “I'm glad you're here to worship with us this morning, Monique.”

“Thank you.” Monique ducked her head.

“Well,
bonjour,
Gary.”

Felicia's cheerful greeting brought Monique's head up with a snap. Sure enough, Deputy Gary Anderson stood in the aisle, grinning at Felicia as if she'd hung the moon. In a pair of jeans and a sweater, he looked much more masculine than in that silly deputy sheriff uniform. She stopped her thoughts right there. No, she couldn't notice how the navy sweater set off his Caribbean-blue eyes.

The warmth in those eyes was brighter than the overhead lights of the sanctuary. “Good morning, Felicia. How are you?”

“Fine. Where's Ms. Della?”

“She's attending services in Lagniappe today. You know how she likes to support both churches.”

Felicia laughed. “That she does, and she does it so well. You be sure to tell her I said hello and expect to see her here next Sunday, yes?”

“I'll do that.” Gary's hand found its way to Monique's shoulder. “I see you've met Monique.”

Dread of what he'd say next had Monique fighting the urge to throttle his outspoken self. The pain and gauze were the only things that stopped her. Was he here to protect her, or Felicia? Did he think she'd just openly accuse her cousin, right here in the middle of church? She shrugged off his touch.

Felicia glanced from Monique to Gary. “You two know each other?”

“Yes. Monique's house burned down Friday night.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” Felicia stared at Monique with nothing but compassion blinking in her eyes. “I didn't know. I'd heard about the fire, of course, but had no idea anyone was living there. You bought the old Pittman place?”

“So I've been told.” Monique studied the other woman intently. No shocked expression. No changing the subject. Nothing to indicate any knowledge or involvement.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Confess to putting someone up to calling and threatening me?
“No. No, thank you.” Somewhere in her heart, she already knew Felicia had nothing to do with that ominous call or the fire. The deputy had been right.

And that irritated her all the more.

“You must come to my house after church, yes? Spence and I always have a small gathering for lunch. Today it'll just be my mother since my brother and sister-in-law are out of town. Say you'll come.” She touched Gary's shoulder. “You, too, of course.”

He laughed and rubbed his stomach. “I never turn down an opportunity to sample your cooking, Felicia.”

She chuckled and shook her head before winking at Monique. “Men. All they think about is food, yes? So, please say you'll come. I'd love to get to know you a little bit. Nothing overbearing. I promise.”

How could Monique resist this gentle woman? “Uh, okay. If I can find your house. You'll have to give me directions.”

The preacher chose that moment to take to the podium. Felicia straightened.

“Don't worry about it. I'll make sure she gets there.” Gary stepped across Monique to sit beside her.

“Great. See you both later.” Felicia turned and made her way to the front pew.

Monique stiffened as the call to worship began. She stood when everyone else did.

“You're welcome,” Gary whispered in her ear.

Oh, she really did want to throttle him.

 

Monique sat right next to him, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

Gary shifted on the pew again, awaiting Pastor Bertrand's closing prayer. He cut his eyes to the woman beside him. Monique hadn't so much as breathed in his direction since the service started. She'd inched away from him, practically hugging the edge of the pew, making sure her shoulder didn't even graze his.

He didn't understand the animosity radiating from her. He hadn't spilled the beans about who she was and why she'd come to Lagniappe. He'd been nice and cordial. What was her problem?

Maybe she was uncomfortable because she was in church when she'd told him she wasn't on speaking terms with God. Maybe her demeanor had nothing to do with him.

He'd had the intention of staying away from Monique, of keeping everything professional, yet he'd agreed to join her at the Bertrands'? No, that was business. He'd observe the way Felicia reacted when Monique told her of their relations. For his report only, of course.

She finally glanced at him. He smiled. She sent him a glare that could melt the wax off the altar candles.

Nope, her manner had everything to do with him.

The opening bars of the closing hymn filled the sanctuary, the words of praise settling over him like a salve. He ignored the woman beside him, stood and lifted his voice with the rest of the congregation. No way would he allow anybody, not even a beautiful, intriguing woman, to come between him and worship. Besides, Monique was nothing more to him than the subject in his case, right? Right.

Before the last strand of music died away, Monique hopped out of her seat and hobbled toward the entrance of the church. Gary nodded at friends as he made his way to the door. He slowed his pace when he saw that Pastor Spence had engaged Monique in a conversation of sorts. Smiling, he moved behind her.

“Felicia tells me you'll be joining us for lunch. I'm so happy you're coming,” Pastor Spence said.

“Hope you don't mind—Felicia invited me, as well.” He offered his hand to the preacher. “Great sermon today.”

“Thanks. Yep, she told me. The more the merrier.” Pastor Spence smiled back at Monique. “Do you know how to get to the house?”

“I'll make sure she gets there okay.” Gary put his hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away from his touch and glared at him.

Spence threw him a confused look, to which Gary only shrugged. “Uh, well, good,” Spence said. “Okay, I'll see y'all shortly.”

Monique pushed out the door and walked down the stairs, her escape hampered by her injuries. Gary paced himself alongside her. “Have I done something to offend you?”

She stopped and stared at him, those wide green eyes of hers flashing with anger or annoyance, he couldn't tell which. “Did it ever occur to you that I don't need someone to speak for me? That I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself to my relatives all by myself? That maybe I didn't want her to know about my house burning down just yet? Maybe I wanted to tell her who I was first. Did you ever think about that?”

He shook his head. She wasn't making a lick of sense. “I didn't tell her you're related to her, and if you think it's a secret your house burned down, think again. Small towns thrive on gossip.” Gary struggled to keep his tone light, refusing to match her snippy tone. “Besides, you're the one who wants me to question her and Luc about the warning call.”

“But I wanted to tell her in my way, in my time. She didn't know it was my house that burned, which indicates you hadn't talked to her yet. You aren't taking me seriously.”

She had a point. He'd intended to call Felicia and question her, but he'd just been busy with other things. Regret moved around his spine like kudzu. “Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped any bounds. I was only trying to help you.”

“I wanted to do this myself,” she said more to herself than to him.

“If you don't want me to go to lunch, I'll just give you directions.”

Jutting out her chin in that cute, defiant way of hers, Monique paused for a long moment. “She invited you.”

“So she did, but I can always cancel if you'd prefer to go alone.”

Time stretched between them. Members of the congregation called out greetings to him as they crossed the parking lot. Car doors slammed. Kids laughed, their feet clomping against pavement. The sun warmed the breeze swirling around the gravestones in the adjacent cemetery.

“No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that.” With a contriteness in her tone, Monique lowered her head. “I really am sorry. It's just that I was nervous and uncomfortable to begin with, and I'm working on being totally independent.”

She lifted her head. Moisture had pooled in her eyes. “Ever since Kent died, I've wanted to be able to stand on my own, but every time I turn around, I can't. Something happens that makes me feel helpless again. I'm so tired of having other people's actions dictate what I do.”