Night Moves: Dream Man/After the Night (9 page)

Gently Gray lifted his sister. Dr. Bogarde took the glucose bag in one hand and his medical bag in the other, and trotted at Gray’s side as he carried Monica out to the doctor’s four-door Chrysler. The doctor climbed in first, then helped Gray carefully maneuver Monica onto the backseat. Dr. Bogarde hooked the glucose bag on the garment hanger over the side window, and took up a position on his knees on the floorboard.

“Don’t go slamming us around,” he instructed as Gray squeezed his long frame under the steering wheel. Dr. Bogarde was barely five foot five, so the seat was so close to the steering wheel that Gray’s chest was brushing it. He couldn’t let the seat back, though, with Dr. Bogarde on the back floorboard. “Keep it at a steady speed and we’ll make better time. And put on the emergency lights.”

Gray had a violent thought about backseat drivers, but he kept it to himself. Following orders, he left the clinic more sedately than he had arrived, though his instincts were screaming at him to push the gas pedal to the floorboard and
keep it there. Only the knowledge that the roomy sedan, built more for comfort than road handling, would likely straighten out a curve if he pushed it the way he did the Corvette kept him at a reasonable speed.

“How’d this happen?” Dr. Bogarde asked.

Gray glanced at him in the rearview mirror. The doctor was a small, dapper man with shrewd blue eyes. Despite his name, he was neither Creole nor Cajun; he had to be in his mid-fifties, with graying, sandy blond hair. Gray had known him all of his life. Noelle had never gone to him, preferring an urbane physician in New Orleans, but everyone else in the family had been to see him with everything from childhood cuts to influenza to the broken arm Gray had received in spring practice when he was fifteen.

Gray didn’t want to tell him everything, preferring to keep the details quiet for a while longer until his broker had had time to sell and Alex had done his legal maneuvers, but it wouldn’t be possible to completely stifle the news. He gave Dr. Bogarde the central fact, the only one that mattered. “Dad and Mother have separated. Monica . . .” He hesitated.

Dr. Bogarde sighed. “I see.” Everyone in the parish knew how Monica doted on Guy.

Gray concentrated on his driving. The Chrysler’s suspension evened out the bumpy roads, and the tires sang on the pavement. The sense of unreality he’d experienced earlier returned. The sun poured hotly through the window, burning his jean-clad leg, and the tall pines flashed by. The sky overhead was a deep, pure blue. It was high summer, and everything was as familiar as his own face. That was what was strange. How could it all be so unchanged, when his world had crashed around him today?

Behind him, Dr. Bogarde checked Monica’s pulse and blood pressure again. “Gray,” he said quietly. “You’d better go faster.”

Five

I
t was ten-thirty that night when Gray and Dr. Bogarde left the hospital in Baton Rouge. Gray’s eyes burned with fatigue, and he was numb from the emotional roller coaster he’d been on all day long. Monica had finally been stabilized and undergone surgery, and was sleeping peacefully, under sedation. She had gone into cardiac arrest soon after arriving at the hospital, but the emergency room team had gotten her heartbeat back almost immediately. She had been given four units of blood prior to surgery, and another two units in surgery. The doctor who had done the repair work thought there was no permanent damage in her right wrist, but she had severed a couple of tendons in her left wrist and might not regain full mobility there.

All that mattered to Gray was that she was going to live. She had awakened briefly when she was transferred from recovery to the private room he’d gotten for her, and had groggily murmured, “I’m sorry, Gray,” when she had seen him. He didn’t know if she’d meant she was sorry she’d tried to kill herself, sorry that she hadn’t succeeded, or sorry that she had caused him so much worry. He chose to believe she meant the first possibility, because he couldn’t handle the thought that she might try again.

“I’ll drive,” Dr. Bogarde said, reaching up to slap him on the shoulder. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell,” Gray rumbled. “I need a cup of coffee.” He was just as glad to let Doc drive. His brain felt like a wasteland; it probably wouldn’t be safe for him to do the driving, and it
was
the doc’s car. His knees would still be sticking up under his chin, but at least he’d have room to breathe.

“I can manage that. There’s a McDonald’s a few blocks from here.”

Gray folded and inserted himself, and thanked God that the Chrysler had a padded dashboard. If it hadn’t, his shins would have been black and blue.

Fifteen minutes later, with a large polystyrene cup of coffee gently steaming in his hand, he watched the streetlights of Baton Rouge slide past. Some of the happiest years of his life had been spent here, at LSU. He had prowled all over this city, a wild, energetic, perpetually horny kid on the hunt for action, and there was plenty of it. No one knew how to have more fun than a Cajun, and Baton Rouge was full of coon-asses. His four years here had been a ball.

It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d come home for good, only a couple of months, but it felt like a lifetime. This nightmarish, unending day had forever sealed away that high-spirited kid, leaving a definite line of demarcation between the two parts of his life. Gray had been growing up gradually, like most people, but today the full weight of adult responsibility had been dumped on his shoulders. They were broad enough to carry the load, so he’d braced himself and done what had to be done. If the man who emerged from the wreckage was grimmer and more ruthless than he’d been when he’d gotten out of bed that morning—well, if that was the price of survival, he’d gladly pay it.

More problems awaited him at home. Under these circumstances, most mothers would have had to be pried from their child’s bedside with a crowbar, but not Noelle. He hadn’t even been able to get her to the telephone. He’d talked instead to Oriane, who told him that Miss Noelle had locked herself in her bedroom and wouldn’t come out. At his
instruction, Oriane had relayed the information that Monica would be all right, shouting it through the locked door.

At least he had no fears that Noelle would try the same stunt Monica had pulled. He knew his mother too well; she was too self-centered to harm herself.

Despite the coffee, he dozed on the way home, and woke only when Dr. Bogarde stopped the car at the rear of the clinic. He’d left the top down on the Corvette, having more important things on his mind, so dew had collected on the seats. He’d have a wet ass on the drive home, and he was almost grateful. Maybe it would keep him awake.

“Will you be able to sleep tonight?” Dr. Bogarde asked. “I can give you something if you think you’ll need it.”

Gray gave a short bark of laughter. “My problem will be staying awake until I get home.”

“In that case, maybe you’d better sleep here at the clinic.”

“Thanks, Doc, but if the hospital needs me, they’ll call me at home.”

“All right. Be careful, then.”

“I will.” Gray swung his leg over the door of the ’Vette and slid into the seat. Yep. A definite wet ass. The cool moisture made him shiver.

He left the top down, letting the air slap him in the face. The night smells were clear and sweet, fresher than when heated by the sun. As he left Prescott behind, the rural darkness closed in around him, soothing and protective.

One oasis of light disturbed the darkness, though. Jimmy Jo’s, the local roadhouse, was still booming. The gravel parking lot was crowded with cars and pickup trucks, the neon sign blinked in endless welcome, and the walls were thudding with the force of the music. As Gray neared, the black Corvette slicing through the night, a battered pickup shot out of the parking lot into his path, tires screeching as they grabbed for traction.

Gray stomped the brake pedal, bringing the ’Vette to a sliding halt. The truck skidded sideways, almost overturned, then righted itself. His headlights caught the faces of the occupants, roaring with laughter as the one on the passenger side, waving a bottle of beer in his hand, leaned out and shouted something at Gray.

Gray froze. He couldn’t understand what had been shouted, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the occupants were Russ and Nicky Devlin, and that they were headed in the same direction he’d been going, toward Rouillard land.

The bastards hadn’t left. They were still on his property.

The rage built slowly. It was cold, but it was powerful. Oddly detached, he felt it come, starting at his feet and working up, as if transmuting the very cells of his body. It reached his abdomen and tightened the muscles, then filled his chest before spreading upward to explode in his brain. It was almost a relief, banishing the fatigue and mental fog, leaving his thought processes cool and precise even as all systems kicked into overdrive.

He turned the Corvette around and headed back toward Prescott. Sheriff Deese wouldn’t like being woken up this time of night, but Gray was a Rouillard, and the sheriff would do as he asked. Hell, he’d even enjoy it. Getting rid of the Devlins would cut the crime rate of the parish in half.

•  •  •

Faith hadn’t been able to relax all day. She had been almost sick with a sense of disaster and loss, unable to eat. Scottie, sensing her mood, had been whiny and fearful, continually clutching at her legs and getting in her way as she mechanically tried to do her chores.

After Gray had left that morning, Faith had numbly started packing, but Amos had slapped her on the side of the head and yelled at her not to be stupid. Renee might’ve gone off for a couple of days, but she’d be back, and old man Rouillard wouldn’t let that young son of a bitch run them out of their home.

Even in her misery, Faith wondered why Pa called Guy an old man, when he was a year younger than Pa.

After a while, Amos had gotten into his truck and gone in search of a drink. As soon as he was out of sight, Jodie darted into the bedroom and began going through Renee’s closet.

Faith followed her sister, and watched in bewilderment as she began tossing garments onto the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Mama won’t need these anymore,” Jodie blithely replied. “Guy will buy her all new stuff. Why do you think she didn’t carry this with her? I can sure use it, though. She never would let me borrow any of her clothes.” This last was said with a tinge of bitterness. She held up a tight yellow dress with sequins around the neckline. It had been oddly striking on Renee, with her dark red hair, but clashed horribly with Jodie’s carroty locks. “I had a hot date with Lane Foster last week and wanted to wear this, but she wouldn’t let me,” she said resentfully. “I had to wear my old blue dress, and he’d seen it before.”

“Don’t take Mama’s clothes,” Faith protested, her eyes filling with tears.

Jodie gave her an exasperated look. “Why not? She won’t be needin’ them.”

“Pa said she’ll come back.”

Jodie hooted with laughter. “Pa don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Gray was right. Why on earth would she come back? Nah, even if Guy chickens out and goes running home to that ice cube he’s married to, Mama will get enough from him to keep herself real pretty for a long time.”

“Then we’ll have to leave,” Faith said, and a salty tear trickled down her cheek to puddle at the corner of her mouth. “We should be packing.”

Jodie patted her on the shoulder. “Baby sister, you’re too innocent for your own good. Gray was mad as hell, but like as not, he won’t do anything. He was just shootin’ off his mouth. I think I’ll go see him, and maybe get the same kind of arrangement his pa had with Mama.” She licked her lips, and a hungry look came over her face. “I’ve always wanted to find out if what he has in his britches is as big as I’ve heard it is.”

Faith jerked away, jealousy slicing through her misery. Jodie didn’t have the sense to see that a snowball would have a better chance at surviving a Fourth of July picnic on the equator than she had of attracting Gray, but oh, how Faith envied her the gumption to try. She tried to imagine how powerful it would feel, to have the self-confidence to walk up to a man and be certain he found her attractive. Even when Gray turned Jodie down, it wouldn’t put a dent in her ego,
because there were too many other boys and men panting after her. It would just make Gray more of a challenge to her.