Bayou Betrayal (16 page)

“Because you're headstrong and stubborn, just like the other women in this family,” Luc said, but winked at his wife.

“I prefer determined and strong, thank you very much.” CoCo angled her head in that distinct way of hers.

“We'll never win, Luc. Just give it up.” Spence moved behind his wife and kissed her temple.

“Like you want to win at something?” Felicia giggled and then looked at Monique. She sobered immediately. “I'm sorry. We're joking around at a very stressful time for you.”

“Nonsense. I'm not scared. This jerk isn't going to bring my life to a screeching halt. I won't stand for it.” Not anymore. She'd passed the point where she'd allow her life to be run by anyone else.

“You go, sistah.” CoCo raised a fist into the air.

Luc shook his head. “I give up. Too much estrogen in one room for me.” He pointed a finger at Monique. “But regardless of how tough you are, I'm going to camp out on your new sofa tonight.”

“I can't let you do that.”

CoCo jumped in. “You have to. Otherwise, he'll bother me all night, worrying about you.”

Monique chewed her bottom lip.

“I'll be gone well before daylight.” Luc grinned and winked before turning to his brother-in-law. “Spence, I'm going into the living room to wait on the deputy.”

“I'm with you, man.” Spence planted another kiss on Felicia's temple before following Luc from the kitchen.

“Seriously, we didn't mean to make light of everything happening to you.” Felicia fluffed her honey-colored hair.

“No problem. I refuse to let all of that drag me down. I'm not going to react anymore. I'm going to be proactive. I'm going to take a stand. This jerk wants to mess with me, I'm going to stand up for myself.”

“Good for you. I understand one hundred percent.” CoCo slipped onto an opposite bar stool. “And we're behind you one hundred percent.”

“I'll call these places first thing in the morning. I'm not gonna play around with this guy.”

“Be careful, Monique.” Felicia's face was wreathed in worry. “He's already tried to kill you by burning down your house.”

“And he makes threatening phone calls and leaves anonymous letters. The man's a coward.” Monique finished writing down the numbers and snapped the phone book closed. “I don't do cowards.”

The front door slammed. “Monique?”

Gary. And he didn't sound very happy with her. She pushed off the stool. “In here. The kitchen.”

His steps treaded heavily on the polished wooden floor. He entered the kitchen, brandishing a gun in a holster. “This was in your truck. Care to explain why you're driving around with a concealed weapon?”

S
he felt like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew.

And she hated the sensation because she had no reason to feel like that. She had every right to have that gun—now more than ever.

Felicia and CoCo discreetly slipped out of the kitchen.

Monique crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Because I have a permit to carry it—concealed, by the way.”

Gary set the gun on the counter. “How's that? It didn't come up on the background check.”

“Because I haven't committed any crimes, and that's all those checks report. My husband was a private investigator. I was his assistant. He and I both qualified on the range and got permits.”

“You pack a Desert Eagle?” Gary's eyes were wide. But with what? Admiration or intimidation? So many men had a problem with women being crack shots. And she was an ace.

“Yep. I also have a Beretta and a nine mil in the closet. And before you ask, I have permits for those, too.”

“Quite an arsenal you have there.”

“Kent and I enjoyed target shooting. We even won several competitions.” And she proudly had the blue ribbons to prove it.

Well, she did before the fire consumed them all.

“I never knew a woman to enjoy firearms.”

“Well, now you have.” She wished she didn't sound so snarky, but he brought her defensive hackles to attention.

“You know I'll have to ask you to see that permit.”

“Of course.” She jerked her purse off the counter and flipped through her wallet. Sure he had to ask—he was all about the job again. She thrust the permit toward him.

He took it, studied it a moment, then handed it back. “Okay.”

“So, instead of asking me about a weapon I have legally in my possession, why don't you go out and find this jerk who seems obsessed with harassing me?” She put the permit back in her purse, followed by the holstered gun.

Hurt marched across his face.

The deputy Gary had brought with him chose that moment to enter the kitchen. “Excuse me, ma'am. Gary, tow truck's here.”

“Have them load up her vehicle and take it to impound.” He spoke to the deputy, but kept his gaze focused on Monique.

“Um, I came to get the keys.”

She reached into her purse again and retrieved her key ring. She removed the key to the truck and handed it to the other deputy. “Here.”

“We'll let you know when you can pick it up, ma'am.” He turned to Gary. “Want me to head back to the station and fill out the lab forms on the vehicle?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mike.”

He nodded at Gary, then Monique. “G'night, ma'am.”

If he called her ma'am one more time…

“Look, I know you're upset. You have every right to be. But I'm doing my job as best I can. I want to catch this guy just as much as you do.” Gary stood straighter, taller.

“I'm sure you do. You police officers always do. Looks good on your records.” Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut?

“Have I done something wrong here, Monique? Anybody would ask to see your permit. You know that.”

And she did.

She blew the bangs off her forehead. “I'm sorry. I wish I could explain why I'm always snapping at you.” Maybe because she was attracted to him and felt bad because she
didn't
feel guilty about that, which triggered the snarkiness.

“It's okay. You're stressed. A lot's happened over the last couple of weeks.”

“It feels like months. But I shouldn't keep biting your head off. I'm really sorry.” She ducked her head. She really was sorry. “And I haven't even thanked you for the rocker.”

He lifted her chin with his thumb until she looked in him the eye. “You just did. You're welcome.”

Her heart wouldn't stop doing flips. Her breath came in spurts. Even her head felt dizzy, like she'd just stepped off a roller coaster.

His gaze remained locked on hers as he slowly bent forward. He tilted his head slightly. She gave a quick intake of breath just before his lips brushed over hers. Not really a kiss. Not really. More like the promise of a kiss to come. A hint.

One that left her breathless and wanting another.

He straightened and cleared his throat. “I need to go question the others. Get their, uh, statements.” His normally smooth voice sounded hoarse.

She nodded, not taking her eyes off his.

“Well, I'll, uh, go talk to her. Them. Them in the living room.” He took a step backward, away from her. “And arrange for protection for you starting tomorrow. Luc said he's staying here tonight?”

“Yes. Okay.” Her voice sounded too falsetto to her own ears. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Of course.”

“Monique?”

“Yes?” Her reply came out almost on top of his saying her name. Her pulse reverberated in her temples.

“Would you have supper with me tomorrow night? Not to discuss this case, or anything? Just you and me, having supper, together?”

Her heart did a triple back handspring. “Are you asking me out on a date, Deputy Anderson?”

“I guess I am.” He grinned. “Are you interested?”

She couldn't contain her responding smile. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“I'll pick you up around five, then?”

“Yes.”

He paused, staring at her. Then grabbed his notebook and pencil from his pocket. “I'm going to talk to them now.”

“Okay.”

Turning, he nearly ran smack into the counter. He sidestepped and headed into the living room.

Alone, Monique's heartbeat echoed inside her head. Had she just accepted a date from him?

She smiled. Oh, yeah, she had.

Even better? She was looking forward to it. Very much.

 

Thursday morning dawned clear and crisp over the bayou. Not cold—it never was in Lagniappe—but chilly enough to warrant a jacket. Beautiful weather, beautiful nature, beautiful everything.

Gary grinned as he drove to the station. He waved at passing townsfolk, smiled at people out walking their dogs before going to work. Luc had called at daylight and said there'd been no further activity at Monique's house. She was safe and secure. It was a glorious day.

Then again, maybe his great mood was because he had a date with Monique tonight.

He pulled into the sheriff's office parking lot, whistling under his breath, and strode across the lot. He had a busy morning planned, and he'd better get his head out of the clouds and focus on the job at hand. That's why he'd come in so early.

With only the night dispatcher still on duty and reading at the front desk, the station was quiet. Gary finished his reports and filed the new ones. He reviewed the lab order for Monique's truck, impressed at the thoroughness of Mike's instructions. The man was a good deputy. Might even be a good chief deputy, as much as the thought pained Gary.

With everything that'd happened in their small little town over the past couple of years, the citizens of Lagniappe deserved the best officer for chief deputy. If that happened to be Mike, so be it. Gary would find other ways to help his mother.

But Gary had to admit he'd be sorely disappointed if he wasn't promoted.

“You 'bout ready to head over to Haynie's place?”

The booming voice caused Gary to jump and turn simultaneously.

Bob stood in the hallway, chuckling. “Didn't mean to scare ya.”

So the old codger
could
laugh. Would wonders never cease? Gary shook his head and strode toward the front door. He told the dispatcher to let Missy and Mike know where he'd be, then headed to the cruiser. On the drive to Kevin Haynie's house, he told Bob about the break-in report filed by Mr. Haynie last week, handing him a copy of the report.

Bob grunted as he read. “Sounds like this could be the source of the accelerant, but if it was stolen, then we're back to square one.”

“I know.” Still, he refused to be discouraged. They
would
find this guy. And when they did…

“Did you get the check back on these characters?”

“No. They should come in sometime this morning.”

“Maybe that'll give us another starting point.”

“Hope so.” Man, did he ever.

Bob read off the directions to the Haynie property. Gary eased up to the house, parking the car in front of a manufactured home. With white siding and green trim, the house needed the kudzu cut back and the windows washed, but it was in good condition. Couldn't be more than five years old at most. Last Gary had heard, the Sanderson family still owned the place and rented it out. He'd check on that.

A Ford sedan, about three years old, sat alone under the carport. No bikes, ATVs or motorcycles crowded the area.

The house stood on the opposite side of town from Monique's new place. The property butted up against the bayou, but then again, most of the land in Lagniappe did. Unlike Patterson's place, this yard looked well-kept. At least the lawn was mowed. The little porch looked as if the wood had been treated in the fall.

Gary knocked on the door, pulling his badge.

“Qui ici?”
came the reply from the other side.

“Deputy Anderson with the Vermilion parish sheriff's office.”

The door opened and Gary had to look down to meet the man's eyes. “I need to speak to Kevin Haynie, please.”

“I'm Kevin. How can I help you?”

The man couldn't be more than five feet and had the slightest frame. Although Gary knew from the break-in report Mr. Haynie was forty-eight, he had boyish features that made him look at least a decade younger.

“I'm Deputy Anderson—” he flashed his badge “—and I need to follow up on the theft report you filed.”

“Most certainly.
Tout de suite.
” He waved Gary and Bob into the living room. “Please, have a seat.”

The room held a sofa, a love seat and a recliner. Really, too much furniture for the small space, but nice pieces. A coffee table crowded the arrangement even further. The smell of incense burned Gary's nostrils as he sat on the edge of the sofa. As he had at Niles Patterson's, Bob stood in the doorway while Mr. Haynie perched in the recliner that seemed too big for his frame.

Gary pulled out his pen and notebook. “According to the report you filed, Mr. Haynie, twenty-five gallons of biodiesel was stolen from your shed last Wednesday night. Is that correct?”

“Yes. My battery charger and voltage meter were stolen, as well. That meter was brand-new, too. Only used once.”

“May I ask why you had twenty-five gallons of biodiesel? You purchased that about two and a half weeks ago from Un-Bio-Believable, right?”

The man wriggled closer to the edge of the chair. “I did, yes.”

“Why?” Bob boomed from the doorway.

Mr. Haynie did a little start, twisting to stare at the hulking arson investigator. “To be honest, I wanted to test the fuel. Break down the components.”

“For what purpose?” Bob took a step into the room.

“Well, with gas prices the way they are, I wanted to see if I could duplicate the fuel and produce it myself.”

“For personal use?” Gary kept writing in his notebook, noting Haynes's Cajun dialect.

“Mainly.” Haynie's cheeks reddened. “But if I could duplicate it, I could also make some to sell to some of the locals.”

“How long have you lived here, Mr. Haynie?” Gary tapped the pen against paper.

“About a month or so, I'd guess.”

“You bought this place?”

“Renting it.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you really think I'd decorate like this?” He gestured toward the duck hunting scene hanging prominently on the wall.

“Why are you in Lagniappe, Mr. Haynie?”

The man scooted back against the chair. “What a rude question, Deputy.”

“I don't mean to pry, but I need to clarify the details for the report.”

“Well, I'm a bit of a vagabond, a gypsy, if you will. I meet a lot of interesting people as I move about. I sometimes go to places I've been told about. See what the draw is.”

“Why?” Bob asked from his sentry post.

“Because I'm working on a novel. But Louisiana is my home—I'm from Lafayette originally.”

“Pardon me if this seems like another rude question, but how do you afford to live?” Gary asked.

Haynie shrugged. “I do a little part-time work here and there. Freelance. Dabble in the stock market a bit. I manage to keep myself afloat. But that's why I rent and don't buy, Deputy.”