False Pretenses (19 page)

Jude drew his gun, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest, and hunkered down behind a trash barrel.

Stone dropped down behind him. “All three shots came from the tennis courts on the north side of the park.”

“Yeah, I saw the flash. Help me get that kid out of the open—over there, behind that bougainvillea bush. Let’s go.”

Jude rose to his feet and scurried, stooped over, to where the wounded teen lay on the ground.

“We’re going to get you out of the line of fire, son.” Jude holstered his gun and took the boy’s wrist as Stone grabbed his ankles. “Ready?”

Stone nodded.

The two of them lifted the boy about a foot off the ground. They carried him ever so gently and set him on the ground behind the bush, then slowly rolled him over on his stomach.

Jude spoke into his shoulder mike, “We have shots fired at Roux River Park. One civilian down. Three gunshots from the north end of the park. Type of firearm unknown. No suspect description or vehicle at this time. All available units roll to the park Code 3 to assist with containment and evacuation. Use south entrance unless given specific perimeter position. Request any help the police department can spare. Have paramedics roll to the south end of the park. Tell them not to enter until requested. Repeat: Paramedics are not to enter until requested.”

Jude held up a tiny LED flashlight and looked carefully at the boy’s wound and glanced up as several deputies attempted to herd the drunk teenagers behind the concession building. He saw Gil Marcel and whistled, motioning for him to come.

In the next instant, Gil knelt next to him and Stone. “Yes, sir.”

“Gil, I want
you
to coordinate the perimeter. I’ll secure the park and set up the command post. Chief Norman’s officers should be here soon. Go.”

“Stone, I need you to stay with the boy and control the bleeding until the paramedics arrive. Have you got a clean handkerchief?”

“Yes, sir. I think I do.”

“Here, take mine, too.” Jude took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Stone, then looked into the wounded boy’s eyes. “What’s your name, son?”

“Deshawn … Macey.” The kid lay with his head turned sideways and resting on his hands.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’re going to be all right. Deputy Castille is going to apply pressure to the wound to help slow the bleeding until the paramedics arrive. It’s going to hurt a little, okay?”

Deshawn nodded, his eyes narrowed, his lips tightly pressed together.

Stone placed the folded handkerchiefs, one on top of the other, over the gunshot wound, then knelt over the boy and pressed down on the handkerchiefs with his palms.

Deshawn whimpered as the white handkerchiefs almost instantly turned red. “Will someone call my mom?” The young man was panting, his eyes wide with fear.

“Sure we will.” Jude peeled off his uniform shirt, then pulled his T-shirt off over his head and handed it to Castille.

“My m-mom’s a nurse,” Deshawn said. “At Hargrave. She’s on duty tonight.”

“Then she’ll probably want to meet the ambulance.” Jude made sure his voice sounded reassuring. “Deshawn, try to relax. Deputy Castille is going to have to press harder to get the bleeding under control.
” God help us if he can’t.

Jude gave a nod, and Castille bore down harder, the T-shirt quickly soaking up the blood.

Deshawn winced. “I-I know your son. Saul. We were in the same science class. He’s cool.”

“Thanks. His mother and I think he’s pretty special.” Jude buttoned his uniform shirt and avoided looking into Deshawn’s eyes. He could only imagine how he would feel if it were
his
son lying there, dying. He glanced over at Castille. “Keep pressure on the wound. I’m going to go make sure the paramedics are cleared to get in here and then set up a command post. Let’s hope Chief Norman sends enough extra personnel to help process twenty-nine drunk teenagers. And that we get the shooter before he strikes again.”

Deshawn took hold of Jude’s wrist. “Am I going to die? I just want to know.”

The boy’s bluntness cut through all his defenses. Jude shook his head. “Not if I can help it, son.”
But it’s really out of my hands.

CHAPTER 19

Zoe heard the bathroom door open and Pierce’s footsteps moving down the hall in her direction. She clutched tightly to her pillow, her heart banging so hard she felt as if it might explode. How did she even begin to tell him the truth about herself?

God, help me, or I’m going to die of a heart attack before I can say anything.

Pierce crawled into bed and draped his arm over her. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

“Yes. I’ve been waiting for you. There’s something we need to talk about.”

“Oh?” He gently stroked her hair. “Am I in the doghouse?”

“No,
I
am.”

“You?” He sounded amused. “Why?”

Zoe wiggled out of his embrace and sat up on the side of the bed. She turned on the lamp, her back to Pierce. “Before I tell you, I just want to say that I love you with all my heart. What I’m about to reveal will be easier to handle if you can remember that.”

Zoe turned and pulled her legs into the bed and sat with her back against the headboard, her pillow held tightly to her chest.

“Good grief, what happened to you?” Pierce raised himself up on one arm. “Did you wreck the car?”

“No. Just hear me out. I’ve tried to imagine how this conversation should go. There just isn’t an easy way to deliver this news.”

“For crying out loud, Zoe. You’re my wife, the other half of my heart. You can come to me with anything. What is it?”

“I’ve lied to you … all these years.”

“About what?”

“For starters, the name you knew me by, Zoe Benoit, wasn’t the name my parents gave me. I was born Shelby Sieger. And my parents aren’t the deceased Pierre and Violet Benoit of Dallas. They are the probably-still-alive Frank and Raleigh Sieger of Devon Springs, Texas.”

Pierce got up on his knees and looked into her eyes. “Why would you lie to me about something that important?”

“I-I was ashamed. I couldn’t bear for you to know the truth about me, that my father was a mean drunk … who abused me … every way you can imagine …” Zoe choked on the words and wondered if she had the courage to continue. Finally she added, “My mother knew but was too afraid of him to do anything about it.”

Pierce leaned back against the headboard, his gaze straight ahead, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m sorry, Zoe. That’s horrible. But you should’ve trusted me with it.”

“If that was the whole story, I might’ve. But there’s more. It’s all connected.” Zoe hugged her pillow tighter. “After I graduated from high school, I worked two jobs—one for a housecleaning service and the other for Walmart. I put as much space between me and my parents as I could for a couple years. The sexual abuse happened less frequently, but the violence escalated. I wanted to move out, but I couldn’t afford a car
and
rent. My friend Hannah knew the situation and let me move in with her without paying rent until I could get my finances worked out. But my dad went ballistic. He wanted me to come home. He came to the apartment drunk and carrying a ball bat. He threatened to hurt us. Hannah got scared and called the police.”

“Did you tell them he’d been abusing you?”

“No. I was too scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t want to end up in court, having to describe the awful things he’d done to me. But after that, Hannah said I needed to find somewhere else to live. So I looked for jobs out of state and took one in Alexandria, Louisiana as a live-in maid for a woman named Adele Woodmore. She was a widow with a huge estate. The position included a nice room, all meals, and a small salary. I was safe there. My parents had no idea where I was.”

“Did Adele know you by your real name?”

Zoe nodded. “My work references were good. I worked three years for the same two employers, and neither knew anything about my home life. It wasn’t until later I decided to change my name. I worked for Adele for six years. She treated me well and would have been happy for me to work there the rest of my life. But I was totally dependent on her. The small salary I made went mostly for a car and incidentals, and I would never have been able to save money to get out on my own. I really couldn’t support myself. It was depressing.”

“Are you rabbit tracking, or is this relevant?”

“It’s totally relevant. Adele wore a diamond ring—more like a rock—that her late husband had given her. One day when she was napping, I-I got the idea to take it off her finger and let her think she had misplaced it or dropped it. I knew she trusted me and would never suspect me. I couldn’t believe I was doing it. But I did. I took the ring.”

“Good grief, Zoe! What were you thinking?”

“That she was rich and would never miss it. And I could sell it and use the money to start a new life. I saw a chance to change my circumstances, and I seized it.”

Pierce shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

Zoe told him how she had convinced the police she knew nothing about the ring. How she had hidden the ring for six months in the pocket of a jacket she never wore, then sold it to a jeweler in New Orleans for fifteen thousand, split the money into three bank accounts to avoid suspicion, and waited almost a year to change her name.

“Why did you choose the name to Zoe Benoit? That seems a little random for a Texan.”

“It wasn’t random at all. I didn’t want to feel like white trash anymore.” Zoe felt her face burn, even now. “I wanted roots I could be proud of, and passing myself off as Cajun seemed perfect if I planned to stay in Louisiana. The first time I ever laid eyes on Les Barbes, I knew it’s where I wanted to live. And start my own eatery. It was a dream that kept building over time. So before I changed my name, I started reading everything I could get my hands on about the Cajun culture. I even learned a little Cajun French. One day I read an article in the newspaper about a Dallas couple who died in a house fire.”

“Let me guess,” Pierce said sarcastically. “Violet and Pierre Benoit?”

Zoe nodded. “They had one child, a surviving daughter, Zoe, who was my age. I saved the newspaper article and decided to change my name to Zoe Benoit and say that my parents had died in a house fire. That way I never had to acknowledge my real parents or my upbringing.”

“But you told me all kinds of stories about your happy childhood days.”

Zoe’s eyes turned to pools, and tears trickled down her face. “I made them up. I almost believed those stories after a while. I wanted it to be true.”

Pierce bit his lip and wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t get it. Why are you telling me this now—five years into the marriage? Why didn’t you just let me live with my illusion.
Why
, Zoe? Nothing can ever be the same now! You’re a liar and a criminal! What am I supposed to do with that? Tell me! Because I don’t know!”

“Pierce, please don’t yell.” Zoe covered her head the way she used to do when her father was about to hit her.

“Oh, spare me the drama,” he said. “Who
are
you? Do I even know the real you? Sieger? Were you just going to lie to our kids about being Cajun? Make up names and dates of births and deaths for grandparents, too? Were you just going to hope and pray we never pursued our family tree? How far were you willing to go?”

Zoe reached over to the nightstand, plucked a Kleenex from the box, and blew her nose. “There’s more.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I would never have had the courage to tell you the truth. But something’s come up in the past couple weeks. I started to receive anonymous notes with just five words:
I know what you did.
I thought for sure someone figured out I stole the ring and wanted hush money not to go to Adele with the information. That’s when I decided to go to Adele and confess everything. So I made up the story about my friend Annabelle dying. I needed a reason to leave town that day so I could drive to Alexandria and face Mrs. Woodmore.”

“So you lied to me about
that,
too?”

“I’m sorry, Pierce. I just wanted to fix things. I hated lying to you again, but I kept thinking it would be the last time.”

Pierce threw his hands in the air. “Why stop when you’re so good at it? I never suspected a thing. I prayed for your safety while you were driving down the bayou in that tropical storm, for heaven’s sake. How can I trust anything you say?”

“I don’t blame you for being mad. Or for wondering if you can trust what I say. But this is the gospel truth. Why would I hurt you like this and risk our marriage by telling a lie?”

“What happened when you went to see Mrs. Woodmore?”

Zoe told him everything that had happened the day she went to Adele and confessed to stealing the ring, how Adele agreed to let her pay back the thirty thousand dollars, and how the notes became threatening after that, leading up to tonight’s meeting with Angus Shapiro—or whatever his real name was.

“So what
does
he want, Zoe? I assume you told him you confessed everything to Adele about the ring?”

Zoe started to cry. “He doesn’t know anything about Adele or the ring. He was looking for Zoe Benoit, the daughter of Pierre and Violet Benoit, who died in a house fire in Texas.”

“Did you tell him you’re not that person?”

“He didn’t believe me. He said my parents were involved in trafficking heroine and that they owed him a hundred thousand dollars when they died. He thinks I’m their daughter, Zoe, and that I skipped out with the inheritance money so I wouldn’t have to pay their debts.”

“So he wants a
hundred thousand dollars
from you? How can he just march into your life and make this demand without any proof you’re the daughter he’s looking for?”

“Pierce, please don’t yell. This is hard enough.”

“Maybe I want to yell! How in world did Shapiro even find you?”

“He was in Lafayette on business and read the feature story they did on Zoe B’s. He put two and two together and figured I must be the Zoe Benoit he’d been looking for all these years.”

“That is just great! I hope you told him you’re not paying him a nickel! That he’s got the wrong person!”

Zoe felt sick. Was she going to throw up? “I tried.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He held me at knifepoint and told me to get the money by the time the banks close on Monday or he’d kill me. And if I went to the cops or told anyone else who did, he’d know. And he’d carve me like a totem pole and then kill me. He cut my cheek to prove he was serious.”

Pierce’s face went from flushed to ashen.

“I would never have had the courage to confront my deception unless I was forced.” Zoe put her hand over her mouth and willed away the nausea. “I’m not half as worried Shapiro’s going to kill me as I am that this is going to kill
us—
our marriage.”

“What marriage? It’s all a lie!” His voice bounced off the walls. “You’re the one who killed us, Zoe! You just took away everything I believed about you! What do you want from me? You broke my heart and stole my future.…” Pierce bit his fist, his chin quivering. Finally he lowered his voice and said, “You’re not considering trying to come up with the hundred thousand?”

“No. He’s probably planning to kill me either way. Vanessa convinced me that I have to go to Jude with this. It’s my only chance to stay alive.”

“
Vanessa
knows about Shapiro?”

“She saw me when I came in this evening. I was sweaty and bloody and my clothes were torn. She thought I’d been raped. If I hadn’t told her what was going on, she would’ve gone downstairs and gotten you. That wasn’t the right time.”

“And this
is?”
Pierce got up and flung his pillow into the door. “I can’t believe what a dupe I’ve been.”

Zoe winced. Had she ever seen him so mad? “I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me right now. But I need you to help me figure out how to talk to Jude without Shapiro finding out.”

“Oh, so
now
you decide to involve me in your life. Well, guess what? If Shapiro is watching you like he said, there’s no way we can go to Jude without the guy knowing. He’s probably listening in to our phone calls. For all I know, he’s got our room bugged.” Pierce picked up a hardback book from the nightstand and slammed it on the floor.

“Calm down,” she said. “You can hate me later. Right now, we need to think.”

“Why bother? We’re dead, Zoe! There’s no way out of this! Once Shapiro knows you’ve gone to the sheriff, he’s going to come for us, whether it’s tomorrow or the next day or the next! Drug dealers are thugs. They get even.”

“Have a little faith that Jude might catch him. If I give him the hundred thousand, he
will
kill me for sure. And you, too, since you’ve seen him and heard his voice.”

Pierce flopped on the bed and lay flat on his back, his eyes closed, his fists clenched, tears trickling down the sides of his face.

Zoe’s heart sank. The only other time she had seen him cry was when his grandfather died. “You have every right to be furious with me for deceiving you. But you have to believe I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“And how did that work for you, Zoe?”