Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (27 page)

“It’s strange how the resentment about her bein’ a CEO went right out the window when we all saw her as a real person.” Tex folded his arms on the table. “I imagine Jeanette Stein’s funeral will be packed out—and emotional.”

“No doubt,” Zoe said. “Listen, I came out here to tell y’all something I just heard. Adele talked to Vanessa. Someone spray painted the word
liar
on the caretaker house the Langleys are having built for Noah.”

“Liar?” Lines formed on Tex’s forehead. “Referrin’ to what—that Flynn fella’s murder?”

“Hard to say for sure what it’s implying, but that’s the first thing everyone will think of.”

Hebert leaned forward on his elbows. “We all know what dis guy means to you, Zoe. But dis doesn’t look too good. What does Noah have to say?”

“What
can
he say? This just feeds the suspicion that he had something to do with Flynn Gillis’s murder. It’s certainly not proof. But it’ll keep the sheriff looking at him as a person of interest.” Zoe sighed. “The truth is, we really don’t know why someone would call him a liar.”

Tex looked up and held her gaze. “Maybe it’s high time we paid attention.”

CHAPTER 28

Adele sat in her room, trying to read from her devotion book but distracted by the events of the day. She had locked the front and back doors and checked them several times. When was the last time she was alone overnight—without help if she needed it? Not that she was incapable. She’d warmed up leftover meatloaf for dinner and washed a load of towels. But what if she stumbled and fell? Or spilled something she couldn’t clean up? How long could she go without a companion to assist her? She could always contact an agency and get someone to come out. But that seemed so impersonal.

She sighed. Zoe was not going to like it one bit when she found out that Isabel had quit and Adele was by herself. And she would like it even less when she found out the reason. How could she keep it from her? Zoe was like the daughter she’d never had. All the money in the world couldn’t buy the kind of love and devotion Zoe had shown her. Adele had no doubt Zoe would make sure she was cared for, should the time come when she needed more help than a live-in companion could provide. She had given Zoe power of attorney to make those kinds of decisions. If she could trust her with that, surely she could tell her why Isabel quit.

She closed her devotion book. Was she prepared to stand her ground concerning Noah and Murray, when she knew Zoe and Pierce were going to fight her on it? Was it worth it? Why did she feel a personal responsibility to open her heart to these men? The words from Luke resounded in her head.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, love your neighbor as yourself.

Weren’t Noah and Murray her neighbors? Wasn’t she trying to be like the Good Samaritan—touching wounded people who needed help? It wasn’t that risky. All she was doing was providing work—paying them for a needed service. And extending kindness. Was she willing to be disobedient to this biblical directive, just to keep the peace?

But it’s dangerous mercy,
Isabel had insisted.

Was she supposed to withdraw in fear and spend the last years of her life doing nothing of significance because someone might take advantage of her? She’d been a good steward of the fortune the Lord had given her. When she died, a healthy sum was going to Zoe and Pierce and Grace, but most of it was going to charity.

Adele laid the devotional on the nightstand. Since when did she shy away from a challenge? It wasn’t her nature to take the easy way—whether it was climbing a mountain or standing for something.

She would call Zoe in a day or two and let her know the circumstances. And then she would begin the process of replacing Isabel.

Jude sat at the conference table in his office, looking through the files on the victims of the Bathtub Killer. Why couldn’t they connect Jeanette Stein to the other victims? This killer was intentional about picking the CEOs of three major companies. What did Jeanette Stein have in common with them? Was it even significant that she had worked briefly at the Lafayette branch of Aubry Computer Systems? Had she ever even
met
Nicole Aubry?

Jude got up and went over to the window. The lights around the courthouse had come on, and the western sky was painted with streaks of glowing-hot crimson.

On the corner of Primeaux and Courthouse, a shirtless man, covered in tattoos, placed a donation jar on the sidewalk and began juggling what appeared to be colored balls.

A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, where street musicians played zydeco music.

How he loved Les Barbes—his boyhood home. Why couldn’t he find the killer who threatened its peace? Any minute he expected someone to come tell him that another victim had been found.

A knock on the door caused him to turn to where Aimee stood in the doorway.

“What’s happened?” he said.

“Nothing, believe it or not.” She smiled. “I’m going to call it a day. I’m beat.”

“Me, too.”

“How much time do you want us to spend trying to get to the bottom of the graffiti incident at Langley Manor?”

“None,” Jude said. “We need to focus on catching this Bathtub Killer before he strikes again.”

“
Liar
could mean a lot of things.” Aimee pursed her lips. “And it may have nothing at all to do with Noah. It could be directed at the Langleys.”

“Except that Castille and Doucet talked with Vanessa at length. She can’t think of any reason why someone would call her or Ethan a liar. There are a number of reasons why they might call Noah a liar. At any rate, in and of itself, it’s nothing more than vandalism. We can’t spare manpower right now to pursue it.” Jude fingered the badge on his shirt. “Let’s stay focused on finding out how Jeanette Stein fits the puzzle.”

“Maybe she doesn’t, Sheriff. Maybe she merely represents something to the killer—something we’ll never understand.”

Jude shook his head. “I’m not willing to accept that. Not now anyway. He chose Jeanette Stein. Let’s find the connection.”

“Do you think we could use the FBI’s help on this one? Maybe a profiler?”

Jude lifted his gaze. “I’ve thought about it. I hate inviting the feds into this though. You know how they are. They treat us like we’re from Mayberry. The condescending attitude gets old.”

“I know. But they have a lot at their disposal we don’t. I’d sure like someone to give us a profile of who we’re looking for.”

“It has to be someone striking back at the CEOs because of the layoffs and foreclosures,” Jude said.

Aimee captured a yawn with her hand. “I thought so too. But explain Jeanette Stein.”

“We will. We just need to keep digging.”

“The feds might help us do it faster. Before he kills someone else.”

Jude winced. She was right. Was he going to let pride get in the way?

“All right.” He walked over to his desk and sat. “I’ll call the field office in New Orleans and see what they can do to help us.”

Vanessa sat in a rocker on the deck at Langley Manor, a cricket serenade soothing her frazzled nerves. Two more cancellations on top of the accusatory graffiti that seemed to be aimed at Noah. Why would someone feel the need to accuse him of being a liar in such a public and destructive way? Had he made up the entire story about his great-grandmother’s great-grandmother Naomi and the Underground Railroad? Or worse yet, had he killed Flynn Gillis? Was that possible? Was she being naive—blinded by her affection for Noah? He had saved her life. Was she just supposed to distance herself from him and let him fight this battle alone?

A raccoon boldly scurried to the bottom of the steps and went straight for the bowls of apple slices and crunchy dog food she had set out. She sat quietly and watched him help himself. She loved it out here. The woods teemed with wildlife emboldened by the shroud of night. If she sat here long enough, how many animals might she see besides raccoons? Opossums? Skunks? Rabbits? Bobcats? Deer? Or perhaps even quail or wild turkeys? They were all out there. Not to mention that playful barred owl that sometimes got close enough to the edge of the forest that she could
who
back at him.

The deck door opened and closed, and Ethan’s silhouette moved toward her and sat in the chair next to her.

“Carter’s out like a light. He read me every word of
The Velveteen Rabbit
. I have such mixed emotions. I love it that he’s a good reader, but I miss reading to him. He insists on reading it himself.” Ethan took her hand. “What happened to our toddler? When did he get so grown up?”

“It seemed to happen overnight.” Vanessa heard the flatness of her tone.

A long moment of silence finally became uncomfortable.

Ethan spoke. “Look, I know this is not what you want to hear. But with the graffiti on top of everything else, I don’t think we can afford to assume Noah’s coming back here anytime soon, so”—he held out his palm as she started to respond—“we need to be thinking about who we can hire in the interim. The grounds have to be maintained for the guests we
do
have.”

Vanessa’s eyes stung, and she let go of Ethan’s hand. “This is so unfair. Someone has it in for Noah. He’s being set up.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do!”

She heard Ethan sigh. “Honey, you really don’t. We both want to believe Noah. But while the sheriff is sorting things out, we’ve got a bed-and-breakfast to run. We can’t let the situation with Noah consume us. There’s too much at stake.”

Vanessa wiped a tear off her cheek. “Without Noah, even the history of Langley Manor changes.”

“Not really. He just won’t be here to greet guests. I don’t think that’s a big deal in the grand scheme of things. The
history
is what it is.”

Vanessa folded her arms across her chest. “Then what do you think the graffiti means?”

“Truthfully? My first inclination is that someone is warning Noah that his lying about Flynn Gillis’s murder won’t work—and that he’d better own up to it. It could also be someone trying to negate what Noah told us about his ancestry. Either way, it’s a little depressing.”

“Do you think?” Vanessa wiped a runaway tear off her cheek.

“Sweetheart, please don’t treat me like I’m the bad guy. I didn’t create this mess. With all my heart, I want to believe Noah is telling the truth about not being involved in Flynn’s murder.”

“But you don’t believe him.”

Ethan cracked his knuckles. “I’m trying.”

“But you don’t?”

“Why are you so determined to trap me into admitting I don’t believe Noah? I told you I’m trying. That’s better than just
not believing
him.”

“He’s been nothing but honest, creative, and hardworking.”

Ethan didn’t say anything.

“Now what? Just say it.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “Not
completely
honest. Don’t forget that, when this house was vacant, he snuck in through one of the secret tunnels and decided to come and go as he pleased. He knew he was breaking the law, and he did it anyway.”

“He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Ethan shook his head. “You can’t make excuses for someone trespassing like that. He could have found a shelter. He refused help from the government after Katrina. He was responsible for not having anywhere else to go.”

“You make it sound like that’s what he wanted. He was devastated when his wife and daughters were swept away. He doesn’t even remember the months following Katrina.”

“Says he doesn’t, anyway.”

“I believe him.”

“Well, we’re not talking months. We’re talking years.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I’m wasting my breath.”

“Honey, I’ll talk to Noah face-to-face. But trust me, he already knows that the graffiti makes him look even more suspicious. And that he’s probably not coming back anytime soon.”

“It’s wrong, Ethan. I’m telling you, he’s being set up. Someone is trying to hurt him—to wreck his chances at getting a fresh start.”

“Maybe so. But until we get to the bottom of it, he can’t be seen out here.”