Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (25 page)

Perhaps it was for the best. If she gave into grief, she'd
be unable to deal with the situation. Clearly, her father's mind had snapped,
and he seemed almost unaware that Zach was preparing to take them back that
afternoon. Had her father's insanity been there all along, just beneath the
surface of his vital, laughing exterior? Had he really killed Jed and that
prisoner?

Her mother and grandmother?

She turned away from the question, refusing to seek an
answer. She only knew he thought his purpose was good and needed medical
treatment, not prosecution.

Without warning, her mind wandered to Zach. Was Maddie
keeping careful watch for alligators and snakes? Was the water quiet or would
another of those unexpected vortexes try to swallow him up?

Her father had told her to forgive Zach for accusing him,
and she supposed she might owe him that. If she'd taken this journey without
him, she undoubtedly would have died along the way. But he'd had the evidence
he'd whipped from his pocket even before they'd boated from the cabin. He'd
made love to her, sworn his love for her, when all along he'd planned to take
her father back for questioning.

Even if she wanted to try, she doubted her forgiveness
stretched that far.

* * *

"Izzy is a little bitch, no?"

Zach jerked his head from the oar he'd been poking in the
water and regarded Maddie with annoyance.

Things weren't going well at all for his plans to leave
Quadray Island that afternoon. Somehow the boat had lost anchor, and though
Maddie greeted the news quite calmly, it scared the hell out of him. They'd
found it about half a mile down, bobbing in the sullied water a good swim out,
which Maddie graciously let him make alone.

He'd paddled the boat back in, and she'd climbed right
inside, perching on the middle bench and continuing her nonstop complaints
about her mistreatment at Liz's hand. This last one just about snapped his
fraying patience.

"She's angry because I think her father might have
committed murder." He jumped as something brushed his bare leg. Swamp
grass, just swamp grass. "Keep an eye out for danger, would you?"

The oar hit an object. He reached in the water, and came up
with a gas can. "Here," he said, handing it up. "Store
this."

"You don't hafta ask so grumpy." She stood up and
carried the can to the bow, her slight weight barely caused the boat to rock.
"You gonna hang around and get them all?"

"Might as well. We're not going to make it out today
anyway." He peeled a strip of grass from his hip and idly tossed it away.
It floated very slowly downstream, tugged by unseen currents. Just like the
mental one flowing between him and Maddie, he thought. "I'm surprised you
aren't furious with me, too. I thought Frank meant a lot to you, and I did
accuse him of horrible crimes."

She shrugged. "What you want me to say? He done
it."

Zach felt a physical shock. Painful. He'd made the charges,
sure, but only for questioning, and the woman's admission made him a bit sick.

"You willing to say that in a court of law?"

Maddie laughed. "What? You think I'm tetched?"

"Then why tell me? They can force you to testify."

Her laughter faded, but a smile remained. "Not after
Frank and me marry."

"I didn't know he asked you."

She looked down and flicked a leaf off her gauzy gown.
"He will. Frank will pop that old question soon, real soon."

Because she had leverage, Zach concluded, and he questioned
her truthfulness. But she did seem confident, which meant she knew something
Frank wouldn't want let out. So much weird stuff was going on, and it just
didn't come together in a nice, neat bundle. Frank's one-sided conversation in
the cavern hinted at hallucination and delusion. But the sudden influx of
money? That implied illegal activity.

What if someone else really had been in the cavern? A
contact, who'd been hidden and refused to answer. Drugs would be the most likely
guess, but for all of his suspicions, Zach couldn't see Frank trading drugs.
Money laundering, maybe. Whatever it was, it fit with his original theory that
Jed had stumbled onto a crime ring.

Were Frank's crazy assertions about Ankouer just a coverup for
what Zach had suspected all along? If so, that meant the man wasn't insane. But
why would he kill his wife and mother-in-law? And some twenty years apart at
that.

Links, links all over the place, and none of them connected.
He wished now that his eagerness to resolve Jed's death hadn't caused him to
act so hastily.

His oar struck another can, and he pulled it dripping from
the water, then waded to the bow of the boat. "I'm giving it up," he
said, putting the can in the crate with the others.

He'd stayed in too long anyway. Fighting his jitters at
sloshing through stagnant water and hunting for rectangles filled with gas
without the benefit of boots to protect his feet had kept his mind off the
jigsaw puzzle But not anymore. He had a question he should have asked long ago,
one only Liz could answer. He was eager to ask it.

"Come on, Maddie," he said as he moved toward
shore. "Let's drag the boat on land. I'm not taking a chance of it
floating away again."

"A big man like you can't do it by himself?" she
asked.

"Some help would be nice."

She kicked off her sandals, hiked up her skirt, and got in
the water, pushing the stern as he heaved the bow onto dry land. After he
dragged it safely to moor, he turned to put his clothes back on.

"Where's your pirogue, Maddie?" He pulled on his
briefs and jeans, then slipped into his shirt. "I figure you want to tow
it back."

"I leave it on the other side of the island. We can
fetch it in the morning."

"Yeah," he replied, lighting a cigarette and
preparing to leave. "That's where Liz and I left ours. Hope it hasn't met
the same fate."

"It ain't," she said confidently.

As they headed back, each carrying a crate, it occurred to
him she sounded as if she knew theirs had disappeared. He asked her about it.

"What other could it be? If you had a boat, you'd'a
gone before I found you, no?"

Zach accepted the answer as reasonable. Who would stay on
this hellhole if they didn't have to?

As they rounded the alcove, Frank's voice came to his ears.

"Money. All the time we argue about it, me and your
maman
,
with her saying if it come so easy, why not take it?"

"You did what was right," Liz said. "But I'm
sorry you had to. Sorry about everything."

Maddie swatted her arm. "Shoo gnat!"

Liz turned abruptly, brushed Zach with a scathing look, then
lapsed into silence. Her eye followed him as he and Maddie carried in the
crates of gasoline cans and placed them with the other supplies.

Money, Zach thought. They'd been talking about money. Where
had Frank gotten it? And was it connected to the murders?

Well, he'd soon find out.

Liz got up then and went to the butane stove, stirring
something that smelled like canned beef stew. Zach waited until she returned,
then told her they'd be staying until the morning. With a blank expression, she
replied she'd made that assumption.

The smell of bubbling stew set his stomach growling. His
hunger and weariness went bone deep, but before he fell asleep that night, he'd
get his answer from Liz if he had to browbeat it from her.

"I need to talk to you," he told her later,
dishing up his dinner as he spoke.

"About what?"

"To clear up something regarding your father."

Her eyes held more chill than an arctic winter and he was
afraid he'd freeze before her answer came. "All right. I have some things
to clear up myself."

He handed her the serving spoon and she dabbed a small
amount of stew on her plate as he grabbed a chunk of bread. "After dinner,
help me clean up," she said. "We can talk then."

"A smart way to get someone to wash dishes," he
remarked, hoping to thaw the air. Instead it turned down a few degrees, and she
picked up some bread, then walked away.

You sure do have a way with women, Fortier, he thought as he
trudged to his unforgiving seat on the boulder to eat another lonely meal. He'd
barely finished his stew when he saw Liz get up and go for the wash pan.
Shoving one last chunk of bread in his mouth and forsaking his usual
after-dinner smoke and drink, he went to join her.

He helped her dump the paper plates and leftover food into a
plastic bag, then started scrubbing the cooking pan while she tied it up. They
were outside of the alcove, near a hole Frank had dug for garbage, and out of
earshot. Their shared task gave an illusion of easy companionship Zach was
loath to disturb, but he couldn't put it off forever.

"Where does your father get his money?"

"That's the important information you need?" She
shook the trash to the bottom of the bag, then twisted the top edge.

"It's more important than you think."

"He earns it by running his tour business. You should already
know that." After securing the bag with a tie, she set it down and moved
closer to him, crouching to stare into the soapsuds he swished in the pan.

"You answer one for me, Zach." Her face and voice
were as even as they'd been that morning she'd encountered the destruction in
her mother's kitchen. Somewhere between the time he'd left for the gasoline and
returned, she'd regained that cool self-possession. "The authorities
concluded that Jed accidentally drowned. Why are you so convinced he was murdered,
and that my father did it? Couldn't the prisoner have hit him while trying to
escape, causing them both to drown?"

Zach shook his head. "While they were handcuffed to
each other? Besides, there's no irrefutable proof they drowned."

"But you said it was labeled a drowning."

Zach scrubbed a sticky portion inside the pan a bit harder
than it needed. He was supposed to be asking the questions, but somehow the
tables had turned. "The coroner based his conclusion partly on water and
debris found in their lungs. But"—this was hard to talk about—"those
corpses were all chewed up, holes in the lungs, holes all over, even in the
heart. Water and other particles could easily have seeped in afterwards."

"And how does that lead to my father?"

He ceased his vigorous scrubbing and met her eyes.
"That's what I'm trying to clear up,
 
cher
. Up there"—he gestured toward
the mountain—"up there, I just as much heard your father confess he was
responsible for people's deaths. He sounded . . . deranged. I thought my theory
that Jed had been snuffed by a crime ring was wrong. That your father . . .
that in his madness he was making sacrifices to this demon he talks
about."

"
Le fantome noir
," Liz said in a bitter
tone.

Zach nodded. "But what doesn't add up is the money. He
remodeled the cabin, installed plumbing, brought in electricity. That's a new
boat and motor out there, and then there's my old house he owns and doesn't
even live in. Port Chatre's no prime real estate spot, but it still takes some
bucks to do all that."

She stared at him with an expression of outraged amazement.
"And that's why you think he's a cold-blooded killer?"

"No, I don't think he did this with his own hands, just
that he hooked up with some real scumbags. I mean, what was that little talk
you two were having about money? The one you cut off so quick when Maddie and I
came back."

"You want those answers, you'll have to ask my
father." She abruptly turned away from him. A quick flash of anger ignited
in Zach's belly, surprising him. He'd been feeling confused, sad, guilty, but
only now did he realize how much Liz's refusal to listen enraged him. He darted
out his hand and closed it over her shoulder.

"Let go of me, Zach," she demanded.

She resisted his attempt to turn her around but was no match
for his strength. When she finally faced him, her eyes were narrowed with fury.

"Where did your pa gets the money?" He repeated
harshly.

"He didn't get it. I paid for the renovations, gave him
the boat, even your old house."

"You? We're talking several hundred thousand here.
Where'd you get that kind of money?"

"The stock market's done very well for me."

His immediate skepticism made Zach feel slightly sick.
"Why didn't you say so the first time I asked?"

She looked away a second, her temper obviously cooling.

"I feel treasonous even now saying it. You know how
proud Papa is. He wouldn't want anyone knowing." Her voice took on a sad
note. "He wouldn't even live in your house. And when I offered to buy him
a new tour boat, he said it would ruin his image. Why are you making these
awful accusations, Zach? Please tell me why?"

"If you'd . . . Those item . . ." He reached in
his pocket and pulled out the evidence bag she'd refused to look at before.
"I found these in your pa's yard, Liz! And the things he said inside the
cave . . ." Now he looked away. His anger had faded, too, and he didn't
even want to believe the words he was speaking. "He spoke of Jed, the
prisoner too, and— Dammit all, Liz, he also talked about your mother and
grandmother's death!"

"He believes Ankouer killed them, killed all of
them."

"That's what worries me. I'm wanting to blame it on the
money, on his getting mixed up with some bad types. I want to believe he's not
directly responsible. But what if he's gone over the edge? Thinks he's
protecting you from Ankouer. . . ."

A look of horror crossed Liz's face.
 
Dear God
,
 
Zach realized,
she was asking herself the
same questions!

"I love you,
cher
," he said softly, knowing
exactly how she felt "But I'm having a hard time believing you. If you
know something, you'd better tell me now."