Bayou Corruption (7 page)

She smiled as a woman banked an airboat, jumped to the ground and headed to the stairs near them. “Perfect.”

The woman stood about an inch taller than Alyssa, with long curly dark hair. She held out her hand. “CoCo LeBlanc, Alyssa's sister.”

“This is Jackson Devereaux.” Alyssa touched her sister's shoulder. “I wonder if you could take me and Mr. Devereaux out to a specific marker in the bayou.”

Slick. Smart thinking, too. He watched the interplay of emotions cross CoCo's face as she studied her sister.

“You want me to take you out in my airboat? Into the bayou? Now?”

“Please.” Alyssa and CoCo seemed to be carrying on a conversation with their eyes. Downright eerie.

Finally, CoCo quirked a single eyebrow. “Okay. Give me a second to run inside.”

He watched her enter the house before turning to Alyssa. “Will she know where the markers are?”

“Oh, CoCo knows this bayou better than anybody.”

“Really?” He couldn't imagine that speck of a woman knowing the swamp better than some of the gator hunters or fishermen. “What's she do?”

Alyssa's eyes twinkled in the setting sun. “She's an alligator conservationist.”

T
he hum of the large fan behind the seats was deafening as the airboat skimmed over the bayou. Water sprayed up, misting them all. Jackson stared at CoCo admiringly. Alyssa couldn't believe it. A cultured man impressed by a woman steering an airboat on a bayou? No, he couldn't be. But a funny feeling threatened to suffocate Alyssa, a strange sensation that made Alyssa see her sister in a new light. One that cast very attractive shadows around CoCo.

“How's Luc?” she blurted out. Man, she hoped her tone didn't sound as desperate as she felt.

CoCo shot her a hard stare before diverting her attention back to the waterline. “He's fine. Wants to come over for supper tomorrow night and see you. Especially if Grandmere comes home.”

Alyssa nodded at Jackson. “Luc's her boyfriend.”

“I see.”

“What's the marker number again?” CoCo asked.

He rattled off the number. CoCo slowed the boat and slowly turned the wheel. “Should be up here on your right.” Her gaze scanned the waterline. “There.” She pointed to a nook around a bend.

The area formed a cove. An island, no bigger than twelve feet by twelve feet, held nothing but cypress trees and lichen, all bent and covering the small recess like a canopy.

A perfect place for a money drop. Out of the way. Blocked by aerial view unless you knew where to look.

CoCo turned off the big fan powering the airboat and nudged the control of the trolling motor. The boat hummed toward the nook's slight opening. “Why'd you want to see this marker point?”

“An article I'm working on,” Jackson said smoothly as his gaze took in all the details of the area.

“You're a reporter? Like Alyssa?”

“Yeah. Can you get me closer? I want to get on that island.”

“I can get you closer, but there's probably not much solid ground. More like quicksand and murk.” But CoCo steered the airboat to the biggest clump of trees.

Alyssa leaned toward Jackson. “What do you think?”

“I think it's ideal for a drop site,” he whispered.

The boat drifted until the nose tapped cypress roots. An eerie silence shrouded the bayou. Miniature palmettos rippled in the gentle breeze. The swamp seemed to be holding its breath in expectancy. Of what, Alyssa had no idea, but goosebumps pimpled her arms.

“What, exactly, are you looking for?” CoCo asked.

Jackson shrugged. “Just anything out of place.”

“Hmm.” CoCo stared into the clump of trees. “There. See that bit of cloth near the waterline? That doesn't belong.” She glanced at her notebook clipped alongside the steering controls. “It wasn't here last week when I did my inventory.”

Energy thrummed through Alyssa. “Can you get us there?”

“I can try.” CoCo engaged the trolling motor, slowly moving the boat.

Seconds dragged on like minutes as the craft inched its way over the murky waters. CoCo settled the airboat against soil. “That's as close as we can get.”

Jackson stood, already pulling a digital camera from his shirt pocket. “Let me see if I can get it.”

“Be careful,” CoCo warned.

He set one foot on the ground, then the other. “Feels okay.”

Alyssa rubbed the scar under her lip as she watched every movement he made. “Is there a way to get here without a boat?”

“See that point there?” CoCo gestured to a craggy outreaching part of land, almost touching the island. “That's right off Milo Point Road. The swamp isn't deep over there, so you could probably wade from the point to the island.”

Alyssa gauged the distance between the point and the island to be about fifty feet. She wouldn't wade in the icky water that far, but a drug dealer who wanted his money probably would. She turned her gaze back to Jackson.

His steps were slow but sure as he crept toward the cloth in the marshy pit. He stopped a few feet out and snapped several pictures from different angles. Seemingly satisfied, he grabbed the cloth and faced the boat. He held the cloth over his head. “Success!”

A loud rumbling nearly knocked Alyssa from the edge of her seat. Her heart hammered louder than the airboat's fan.

CoCo jumped to her feet. “Jackson, don't move.” She retrieved a small noisemaker gadget. Pressing the button, a higher-pitched roar filled the air.

“What?” Jackson asked.

“Just don't move.” CoCo sounded the horrible growl again. She put the noisemaker closer to the water and pressed the button once more.

“What are you doing?” Alyssa couldn't see what had her sister in such a panic, but she knew by the serious look on CoCo's face that something wasn't right.

“Moodoo's in the area. That's his growl.”

Alyssa glanced around. She didn't see anybody. “Who, pray tell, is Moodoo?”

“One of my gators.” CoCo sounded the horrific noise again.

Shivers tickled Alyssa's spine. An alligator? One of her sister's? Jackson stood in the line of danger! She met his frightened stare.

He hadn't moved, but his gaze darted around the area. “What is it?”

A large bulk moved toward the boat at a surprisingly fast rate. The alligator hit the water so smoothly, a splash didn't even mar the level line of the water. Only a gentle ripple. A bump hit against the boat.

CoCo chuckled. “Hey, boy. Took you long enough.” She reached into a bag and tossed something out into the open water. The big reptile sped toward it. CoCo turned back to Jackson. “Hurry up and get back in the boat, for goodness sake.”

Jackson's face had paled. His stare locked onto the alligator, following the beast's movements with his eyes, and his feet appeared to have taken root.

“Jackson!” Alyssa's heart thrummed.

He darted his gaze to meet hers.

“Come on. Hurry.”

The urgency in her voice must have snapped him out of his fear-induced trance. He quickly boarded the boat and dropped to the seat. “That was interesting.”

CoCo threw something else out into the water and put the trolling motor in reverse. “It's odd. Moodoo isn't normally in this part of the bayou. Something had to have snagged his attention.”

“Like what?” Alyssa couldn't believe she could sit calmly and discuss an alligator's behavior.

“An airboat like mine. He thinks they're all me, which is why some poachers were able to hurt him about a year ago. I nursed him back to health, but he didn't learn his lesson.” Her forehead wrinkled. “But the boat would've had to have been here for at least a day for the vibrations to have beckoned him. And I haven't been near this part of the bayou in a week.”

“You have a pet alligator?” Alyssa couldn't fathom her sister's strange interests.

CoCo chuckled as she fired up the big fan powering the boat. “Not exactly. Animals just remember sounds and actions. Gators, in particular, are very smart.”

“If you say so.” Alyssa sniffed.

“What else could've drawn him into this area?” Jackson still clutched the cloth in a death grip.

“Hmm.” CoCo spun the boat into open water and sped over the bayou. “Something he hunted could've led him there. Although once he caught his prey, he would've gone back to familiar waters.”

Jackson remained quiet, as if mulling over the information.

“Anything else?” The reporter in Alyssa refused to be silenced by her distaste.

“Activity in the area would draw him and make him stick around. But there's not much movement in that part of the bayou. As you saw, it's pretty secluded and not many people would be brave enough to venture so far in.”

Which would make the location a perfect place to drop drug money.

“So, if there was activity going on here, it'd have to be someone who knew the bayou pretty well, right?” Jackson asked.

“
Oui.
But few people know that part very well.” CoCo slowed the boat as they neared the LeBlanc landing.

“Who would?” Alyssa refused to be outquestioned by the big shot New Orleans reporter.

CoCo killed the engine and grabbed a rope. “I don't know. Me, the Wildlife and Fisheries group, some environmentalists. Not too many people.” She tied off the boat and jumped to the ground.

Alyssa and Jackson stood and moved to follow.

CoCo held up her hand. “Now, who wants to fill me in on what's going on?”

 

How could two sisters be so different?

Jackson shook his head at how blasé Alyssa was with her older sister. She'd been evasive, giving just enough facts to satisfy CoCo's curiosity. Surprisingly, CoCo had let the matter drop with her sister's half excuse, rushing into the house to start lunch and leaving him alone with Alyssa out by his truck.

“Let me see it,” Alyssa demanded once her sister had shut the screen door.

He didn't have to ask what she wanted. The cloth. He'd shoved it into his pocket as soon as he'd gotten situated on the boat. Now he pulled the cloth free from the denim.

The plain cotton fabric, which had originally been pastel blue, was now dingy gray. A set of numbers splayed across the strip, written with a black marker—0211.

“What's that mean?” Alyssa peered into his face, her eyes wider than normal, allowing him to see the little green flecks around the edges. Fascinating.

“I don't know. A tracking number, maybe? Could be a date or time.”

“Where do we go from here?” She shifted her weight, slight as she appeared, from one foot to the other.

“Why don't I grab my notes and see if there's anything remotely similar?”

“Not without me, you don't.”

Afraid he'd leave her out of the scoop. He didn't bother to hide his smile. “I had no intention of that. Earlier, I offered you a meal while you looked over the notes.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her finger over that little circle under her lip. “That sounds good.”

“Would you like to follow me in your car, or can you trust yourself in the same vehicle with me?”

Fire lit her eyes. “Trust myself? Please. Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Devereaux.”

Jackson chuckled. “Then shall we?” He made a sweeping gesture toward the passenger side of the truck.

“Let me tell CoCo I'm leaving.”

She disappeared into the house and returned quickly. Alyssa threw him a final glare before stomping to the passenger side and yanking the handle before he could. She scooted into the seat and reached to close the door, but he held it. Her eyes flashed.

“Where I'm from, it's considered polite to open doors for a lady,
chère.
”

She snorted before he shut her inside.

Oh, yeah, Alyssa LeBlanc was one fascinating woman.

He slipped behind the steering wheel and turned toward Bubba's house on the other side of the bayou. The sun danced overhead, tossing hot rays through the truck's windshield.

“Tell me about your friendship with the sheriff.”

“We went to college together. Old frat buddies.”

“Keep in touch?”

“Pretty much. E-mail's made it easy. Bubba's not too big on that, though. He prefers the phone.”

“I see.”

Did she? Probably not. She had no way of knowing Bubba'd been the one who pulled him out of his downward spiral of drinking and drug use. No one knew Bubba had saved him, in more ways than one. He'd been the one to introduce Jackson to Christ. Months after Jackson had dried out, he'd made the decision to dedicate his life to Jesus. He hadn't looked back on his old lifestyle since.

“Where's a good place to eat where we can have some privacy?”

“I don't know. I don't live here.” Her tone grated against his sensibilities.

“But you used to. For several years.”

“It's changed. I've changed. The only places I went when I lived here were high school hangouts.”

Something aside from snappiness crept into her tone. Almost…pain. He took his gaze off the road. She'd turned her head to stare out the window. O-kay. Topic off-limits. He'd let that go. For now. “Bubba told me the Crawfish Café has pretty good grub.”

“All right.” She still wouldn't look at him.

He pulled into Bubba's driveway. “Won't take me but a minute to grab my notes.” He left the truck running while he darted inside.

He grabbed the notebook and file, his heart pounding. But his erratic heartbeat had nothing to do with the heat or the fast pace with which he headed back to the truck—it had everything to do with the woman waiting for him.