Bayou Paradox (4 page)

“But will it be in time to save them?” Her voice caught and she sniffled. “They're just lying there, wasting away.”

“Tanty's my aunt. Of course, I'm doing everything I can to get to the bottom of this.” His heart twisted. Didn't Tara realize it hurt him just as much to see his aunt lying there like that? “The medical staff is doing everything it can.”

“That's not good enough.” She grabbed his forearm. His muscles tensed automatically and his heart picked up its pace at her touch. “We need to find out who did this to them.”

She released her hold on his arm, but his heart continued to race. No, he wouldn't allow himself to be sidetracked from the matter at hand. Couldn't. Back to the facts. They were something he could control. Black and white. Cut and dried.

“Someone did this, Sheriff. I know it.” Her voice held a pleading tone. “We need to find out who's responsible.”

How could someone have done this, caused two elderly women to just lose consciousness? It didn't make sense. More than likely, there was a logical explanation. Something the team of doctors would find and be able to treat. Heal. “We'll know more once the test results are in.”

A nurse emerged from behind a curtain, her white shoes squeaking against the tile floor, and addressed Tara. “Ms. LeBlanc, we're moving your grandmother now. You can go up to the fourth floor and see the nurses for her visitation schedule.”

“Merci.”
Tara turned back to him, her eyes hard and unwavering. “Fine, you keep running tests and looking for medical answers. I'll find out who's behind this on my own.”

“Tara, don't stir up anything.” Wasn't that what voodoo was all about, stirring up spirits and potions?

“What could I possibly stir up, Sheriff? This is all perfectly reasonable, totally logical, right?”

“Stay out of it. Take care of your grandmother, and let the police handle the investigation.” He didn't give her a chance to reply, just strode down the hall.

Infuriating woman. Yet striking. Strong, but vulnerable. A true enigma. One who, despite his better judgment, seemed to draw him to her.

In spite of all her rough edges, she loved her grandmother and his aunt dearly. It was only her concern for them that made her act like this.

At least, he hoped that was the reason. Surely she couldn't be right.

But what if she was?

He strode into the elevator, jabbed the fourth-floor button and waited as the elevator jerked into motion. Maybe the doctors would have some test results back. Ones with definite answers. Ones that would defy Tara LeBlanc's outrageous allegations.

Barely waiting for the doors to slide fully open, Bubba marched to the ICU nurses' station. The kindly gray-haired nurse from yesterday smiled as he approached. “It's still an hour from your visiting time, Sheriff.”

“I need to know if any of the tests on my aunt have come back yet.” He rested his elbows on the counter, hunching over to get on eye level with her.

“They're not back yet. I'm sorry.”

He shook his head and straightened. “In the meantime, my aunt is just lying there. I want answers, Nurse.”

“Careful there, Sheriff. Sounds like you might be considering that something funny's going on,” Tara said from behind him. “Sure wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression, yes?”

He glared at her over his shoulder. “I'm just checking up on my aunt, as well as trying to conduct a police investigation.”

She lifted her chin. “I wasn't aware a
medical
condition warranted a police investigation.” Her eyebrows hitched over her stunning eyes. “Sounds like you might suspect I'm right.”

He'd never admit that. Not now. Not without facts. He pivoted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you I'd run a thorough investigation.”

A half smile sneaked onto her face. “I'm impressed.”

“Ms. LeBlanc?” a nurse interrupted. “Your grandmother is settled now. You can visit her for fifteen minutes.”

Tara nodded, then stared at him again. “Let me know when you face facts and want some help.” She turned and followed the nurse down the hall.

Little upstart, as if she could help him with anything. Still, there was something about her. Something brave and…beautiful.

He shoved the thought away, refusing to dwell on Tara LeBlanc. He had his faith, his career and his friends. He didn't have time for romance or a relationship.

And with Tara's belief in voodoo, there was no potential for one.

Or was there?

N
ight fell over Lagniappe in a hush. No storms, no quaking skies, nothing special to signify another day was done.

Tara stared at the phone in her hand, as she'd been doing for nearly half an hour. She needed to call Alyssa, at least, but didn't have enough energy for the fight she knew would ensue. She'd never really gotten along with Alyssa, not like she did with CoCo. Maybe because Alyssa had fled the bayou as soon as she'd been able. She only just began accepting her roots in the past year. Marrying Jackson Devereaux and living in New Orleans probably helped, too. Her sisters deserved to know about Grandmere. Especially if she never recovered. Tara swallowed the thought. That wouldn't happen. She'd already made the healing potion, and would get some of it into Grandmere's system somehow.

If only CoCo weren't on her honeymoon. Tara would much rather deal with her oldest sister than Alyssa, who would load up her husband and head out from New Orleans immediately. She let out a sigh. The phone wouldn't dial itself. Then again, maybe she should wait until tomorrow. Give the potion time to work. Wouldn't it be better to call both couples with more hopeful news than what she had now?

CoCo and Luc. Alyssa and Jackson. Tara, alone.

The cold hard truth hit her square between the eyes like never before. Without Grandmere, she was all alone. No one to talk to, no one to share her fears and burdens with. Life wasn't fair. The need to cry nearly choked her.

She. Would. Not. Feel. Sorry. For. Herself.

The sheriff's face flashed through her mind. Why was that? Tara pinched her eyes closed and shook her head hard.

“No!” She shoved herself to her feet. No more wallowing in self-pity. Starting now, she'd be proactive. She'd find the person responsible for Tanty's and Grandmere's condition, see justice served, then her life could get back to normal. She'd never cared much about men or being in a relationship with one, so what was her problem now? Look at how her sisters had changed their lives to accommodate their husbands—CoCo had to convert to the whole Christian thing, and Alyssa gave up her journalism career to move to New Orleans and marry. If that was what love did to people, she'd pass, thank you very much.

She stalked to the kitchen table and opened her backpack, then carefully set out the three client sheets from Tanty's. The master ledger followed. Tara hunched in the chair, studying the paperwork.

After rereading the note on Rebekah Carlson, Tara looked up formula 38 in the ledger. And nearly fell out of the chair. That was the treatment for male impotency. The mayor suffered from impotency? No wonder Mrs. Carlson went to see Tanty.

Did the mayor know? What if Mrs. Carlson had told him someone saw her leaving? Implications knotted Tara's stomach. How far would Mayor Carlson go to protect his public image, especially over something so private?

Beep! Beep! Beep!

She jumped, disoriented for a second, then pressed off the alarm on her watch. Time to go visit Grandmere. Tara headed to the car, shoving her hand into her pocket to touch the vial. Healing potion good to go.

She turned the key, but the engine didn't respond. Great. She didn't have time for this. Running a hand over the dashboard, she whispered, “Come on, baby.” After twisting the key three more times in rapid succession, the engine turned over. She pumped the accelerator several times, letting the engine rev. Whew!

The air conditioner didn't have time to get the car's cabin cooled off before Tara whipped into a parking spot outside the hospital. Too much heat and humidity for an old clunker like her Mustang to overcome. Her damp shirt clung to her back as she made her way through the automatic doors.

Cold air blasted her face. She paused, closing her eyes for a brief moment and relishing the reprieve from the oppressive heat. Only May, and already over ninety degrees. It would be a long hot summer.

Two nurses greeted her as she stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor. They told her there was no change with her grandmother. She fingered the vial in her pocket again—she'd just see about that “no change” status.

Grandmere's face appeared even paler. Worse than when she'd had her heart attack, even. Tara flashed a shaky smile to the nurse exiting the room, clipboard in hand. She glanced over her shoulder. No one stood outside the glass wall of the ICU unit. No one watched her.

She withdrew the vial from her pocket. The machines attached to Grandmere emitted a steady beep. Tara's heartbeat beat in time. She unscrewed the lid and withdrew the dropper. Another glance over her shoulder. Coast still clear.

Tara eased forward and slipped the end of the dropper past her grandmother's cracked lips. She pressed the little bulb, releasing four drops into Grandmere's mouth. And waited. The potion would absorb quickly through the tongue.

Seconds, then minutes ticked off the clock. Tara waited. She closed her eyes and mumbled the voodoo words she'd been taught.

The beeps from the machine broke rhythm—skipping once, doubling in the next second.

Tara opened her eyes and fell silent, staring at her grandmother. There—was that a twitch or had her eyelids quivered?

She repeated the administration of four drops before slipping the vial back into the pocket of her shorts. Grandmere couldn't have more potion until tonight. Would the dosage now be enough to bring her from her coma?

The door behind Tara swhished open. She jerked and turned.

“Didn't mean to startle you, Ms. LeBlanc.” The doctor, his pristine white coat flapping as he walked, moved to Grandmere's side and inspected the machine. “How's our patient?”

“I think she's looking better. Don't you?”

He cast a serious look in Tara's direction. “While she's in stable condition, there's been no change in her vitals.”

Tara stood, fighting to look him in the eye. “What about her tests? Have any results come back?”

“Her heart's fine—she hasn't suffered even a mild attack.”

Tara already knew that. “What about the toxicology screen?”

“It'll take a few more days for the results to come back.”

“And in the meantime?”

“We monitor and wait.”

Not good enough. Same lines they'd been fed about Tanty. Tara leaned over and gave her grandmother a kiss on her sunken cheek and then strode from the ICU room.

And ran straight into Sheriff Theriot.

His chest was as unmoving as a brick wall. She would have fallen over had he not steadied her. “Whoa, where's the fire?”

Frustration filled her. “I'm sick of this.” Tears seared the back of her eyelids.

His brows lowered. “Has something happened with your grandmother? Is there a change?”

“No. She's the same. And I'm getting the same tired answers. That's the problem. Nothing.
Nada.
Zilch.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder, and comfort eased through her. “These things take time. They'll find out what's wrong.”

She shrugged off his touch. She didn't need comfort from a cop. A Christian one at that, even if his image danced in her mind at the most inopportune times. “Not soon enough. I know someone's responsible, and I need to find out who.”

“There's nothing for you to do but be here for your grandmother.” He hitched an eyebrow. “And pray.”

Tara snorted. “Yeah, you do that. I see it working so well with Tanty.” The acidic comment stuck to her tongue, but she couldn't help it. What if she lost both Grandmere and Tanty?
Then
where would she be?

He cleared his throat and scowled. “Have you called your sisters?”

Great. Another hit below the belt. “Not yet.”

“You need to let them know, Tara.”

“I know.” She cleared the frog in her throat. “I'll call them this afternoon. I just don't have any information for them.”

“They deserve to know. She's their grandmother, too.”

She gritted her teeth. “You don't have to tell me. This is my family business, Sheriff. I'll handle it.” She turned and stomped to the elevator.

Cooyon!
As if she didn't know what she should do. But she couldn't help wanting to give the potion a little time to work before she called her sisters. Any improvement would be better than what she could tell them now.

She got off the elevator, crossed the lobby and hit the hospital's double doors. Humidity suffocated her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The late-afternoon sun blasted her as she made her way to the car, gluing her shirt to her back again. She slipped behind the wheel. Hot vinyl seared her bare legs. She winced and fumbled with the keys.

“Ms. LeBlanc! Ms. LeBlanc!”

A woman ran across the parking lot, waving her arms. “Wait, Ms. LeBlanc.”

Who was she? Tara didn't recognize her, didn't think she'd even seen her before. The engine turned over and lukewarm air sputtered from the vents. She kept the door open as the woman approached.

Red-faced and panting, the waddling woman reached for the door. “I'm glad I caught you.” She jerked her hand free as hot metal made contact with her flesh. “Whew! That's hot!”

Patience had never been Tara's strong suit. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, no. Sorry.” The woman's thin brown hair was stuck to the sides of her puffy face. “I'm a member of your grandmother's church. The ladies' group wanted to let you know that we're having a round-the-clock prayer vigil for Mrs. LeBlanc.”

Lovely. Just what she didn't need to deal with right now. But these were her grandmother's new friends, and her Southern upbringing dictated she not be rude. “I'm sure she'll be delighted to know that once she comes out of the coma.”

“And we wanted to let you know that someone from the church will be bringing dinner by to you every evening.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“But we want to. And if you need anything, you give us a holler.” The woman passed a business card to Tara. “I'm Suzie, by the way.”

Tara took the card, giving it a once-over. A cherub floated in the left corner, while the words
Godly Women
jumped off the card. An e-mail address and phone number were listed beneath. “Uh, thanks.”

“I mean that. If there's anything we can do for you, just call that number. Someone's available to answer twenty-four/seven.”

Oh, happy day. Time to end this little tête-à-tête. “I appreciate that. Thanks again.” Tara eased the door closed. At least the air conditioner blew cooler air now.

She put the car in reverse, still gripping the card. She stared at it for a moment before dropping it into the console. Suzie waved from the parking lot as if they were long-lost best friends. Tara turned the car and pointed it toward home.

Godly woman? More like strange woman.

 

“Sheriff, I understand two elderly ladies have been hospitalized over the past two days.”

Bubba shifted in his chair and doodled as he gripped the phone tighter. “Yes, Mayor. My aunt and Luc Trahan's grandmother-in-law.” Was that even a word,
grandmother-in-law?

“Mrs. LeBlanc is a member of our congregation. Is there something going on I should know about?”

Swallowing back a groan, Bubba dropped the pencil onto his desk calendar. “We're still waiting for test results on both ladies.”

“What I'm asking, Sheriff, is, is there a threat to Lagniappe?” The mayor's curt words matched his tone.

What Bubba wouldn't give to be able to answer that question with certainty. “At this moment, sir, I don't think so.”

“You don't
think
so? That's not good enough. I need to know. I have to protect the citizens. They've suffered enough recently.” Mayor Carlson's implication cut to the core.

Bubba cringed against the reference. Like he didn't remember? “I understand, sir.”

“I'm working behind the scenes to try to bring new life into this town. The last thing I need is to scare off potential industrialists.”

“I'll get you an answer as soon as I know something.”

“You're the sheriff—light a fire under somebody.”

“Yes, sir.” But the disconnecting click told him the mayor didn't hear him. Bubba slammed the phone back in its cradle.

He didn't need the added stress of Mayor Carlson breathing down his neck. If he were smart, he'd take a leave of absence and spend his time at his aunt's bedside. Unfortunately he didn't have anyone to take his place. Deputy Gary Anderson was good but still too wet behind the ears to head an investigation. Still, this wasn't really a police investigation, right? Just a follow-up.

Reports sat on the edge of his desk. He grabbed the first folder—Anderson's report from the gas company. No leaks detected at Tanty's house, inside or out.