Bayou Paradox (5 page)

Bubba closed the folder and rubbed his stubbled chin. Had he shaved this morning? He honestly couldn't remember. Okay, so no gas leak. What else?

Tanty Shaw and Marie LeBlanc. Both hospitalized with the same symptoms. Both elderly. Neither very aggressive or with any known enemies. It had to be something medical, right? Nothing else made sense.

But two women having the same mysterious illness that medical staff couldn't easily explain left too many unanswered questions. That didn't make sense, either.

What was the connection?

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his worn chair. Their ages were close, but so were many others in town. They both lived close to the bayou, but so did a lot of other folks.

Voodoo.

Bubba shot upright and stared at the blank wall. That was the only common denominator between them that ruled out most of the rest of the town.

Only, Marie LeBlanc didn't practice voodoo anymore.

But Tara did.

Ah, Tara. Just her mental image sent strange sensations racing through him. He'd known her almost all her life, but now, something about her made him uncomfortable. He hadn't had a chance to analyze his recent reaction to her yet, but he would. Later. After he figured out what was going on in his town.

Voodoo had to be the connection. He had no clue what all that involved. He'd made it a point to steer clear of such nonsense a long time ago. Maybe it was time he paid more attention.

With a heavy sigh, Bubba lifted the phone. He could think of only one person he could ask, but that person would ask questions about why he wanted to know. Everything could snowball from one phone call.

Unfortunately Tara would be on the receiving end of the avalanche.

He didn't have a choice. He flipped through his Rolodex, found the entry and dialed.

T
hat interfering, meddlesome man!

Tara marched into the house, muttering under her breath about Sheriff Bubba Theriot. How dare the man take it upon himself to notify
her
family about Grandmere's illness? He had no right. She'd barely made it home when her cell phone rang and Alyssa lit into her. Now she had to deal with her sister and brother-in-law coming to town. As well, Alyssa had called CoCo on her honeymoon.

Oh, just wait until she saw that man again. She'd give him a piece of her mind, no matter how good-looking he was. Good-looking? She must really be going nuts.

The house needed a cleaning. Dirty coffee cups and plates of Grandmere's still sat in the sink. Tara's wet towels from this morning hung haphazardly across the shower rod, and her paperwork covered the kitchen table. Alyssa could probably handle dirty dishes and wet towels with minimal complaint but not the paperwork—not anything to do with voodoo.

She reached for the ledger, but her gaze fell on the client sheets. Her heart gave a little kick.

Suzie Richard!

Tara scanned the notes again.

Could this be the same Suzie who gave her the business card outside the hospital?

Tara went out to her car and grabbed the card from the console. No names listed. Just
Godly Women,
an e-mail address and a phone number. Why hadn't she used the good manners Grandmere taught her and gotten the woman's last name?

Returning to the house, Tara stared at Tanty's comments on the client sheets. Just how distraught was Suzie? Hmm. She glanced at the card again. Might not even be the same person. Then again, maybe the name sounded familiar because Grandmere'd mentioned Suzie when talking about her church group. Could be a long shot, but it was the best lead she had at the moment.

She could lose Grandmere and Aunt Tanty. The enormity and severity of the situation hit her anew. The loss would kill her. She'd have no one to turn to. CoCo had Luc. Alyssa had Jackson. Tara wouldn't have anyone to help ease her grief. She shook her head. No, she wouldn't think along those lines. She was a LeBlanc, strong and determined.

After passing a broom over the living-room floor and cleaning the bathroom, she made sure the other two bedrooms had clean sheets. Then, exhausted, she fell onto her own bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, whirring slowly, its steady ticking punctuating the hum of the air conditioner. Her eyelids drooped.

Bam!

Tara jerked upright, blinking away cobwebs.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The screen door! Had she even closed it? She flipped her legs over the bed to the floor. “Coming.” She stumbled down the stairs, rubbing her face.

“Tara?”

Recognition hit with a slight thrill, followed immediately by irritation. She pushed open the screen. “Sheriff.”

“Is everything okay? Are you all right?” His broad shoulders filled the doorway.

A spark of attraction tried to ignite, but she used her annoyance to stamp it out. “Aside from my grandmother being in a coma without any medical reason and you going behind my back to call my family, I'm just hunky-dory. Why do you ask?”

“I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to cause any problems.”

“Yes, indeed.” She leaned against the open door. “You accidentally picked up a phone, dialed Jackson's number and informed him that my grandmother's in the hospital? Sure, I can see how that just happens.”

“I needed information. You said you were going to notify them. I assumed you'd do that sooner than later.”

“Well, you were wrong. Just like you're wrong in thinking what's happening with Grandmere and Tanty is coincidental and random.” She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing down the wayward strands. “Was there a particular reason you came by, other than just to annoy me?”

“I was concerned when you missed the last visitation with your grandmother.”

Guilt slammed her like a sledgehammer. She cut her gaze to the wall clock. Could that be right? Had she really dozed off for a couple of hours? “Uh, I fell asleep. Has there been a change with Grandmere? I mean, the nurses are supposed to call if there's any—”

“No, no. There's no change. I just got worried about you when you didn't show.”

Shame transformed her words into cutting remarks. “I don't need a keeper, thank you very much. I'm a big girl, able to take care of myself.”

“I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I on—”

“And I don't need you jumping into my family business.” She turned away from the door.

“Look, I said I was sorry about that.” He followed her into the kitchen. “Besides, I need to follow up on a couple of things with you.”

Standing at the sink, she reached for the sponge. “Such as?” She rested her hand on the hot-water knob.

“You said your grandmother had a visitor before she fell ill.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “And?”

“You said there were dishes left in the sink?” He joined her and jutted his chin toward the plates and cups she'd been about to wash. “Those them?”

She nodded.

He pulled several paper bags from his pocket. “Can I run some tests on them?”

“Please.”

He donned latex gloves, then carefully slipped the plates and cups into the bags before shoving the two forks into envelopes. He tossed the gloves in the trash and grabbed his pen. In a neat hand, he labeled the bags, then glanced around the kitchen. “Do you have any idea who might've come to visit your grandmother?”

“I told you, I wasn't here. I haven't a clue.”

“Well, these tests will probably net us nothing, but we'll try.” He lifted the bags and hesitated. His eyes softened as he stared at her. “I really am sorry. For everything.”

The spark flared again. She nodded, sure no words could force their way past the emerging lump in her throat. The door shut softly behind him.

Tara stared out the window, noticing the sun dipping below the trees as the bayou prepared for night. Alyssa and Jackson would be here soon. How could she avoid the confrontation that would certainly take place?

By not being at home when they arrived.

They'd probably stop by the hospital before heading to the house. She could leave them a note, go into work and get the club's books current, take a leave of absence, then go to the hospital for the night visit and slip more of the healing potion into Grandmere. If she played her cards right, she could avoid her sister until the wee hours of the morning. By then, surely Alyssa would be either asleep or too tired to fight.

Yeah, good plan.

Ten minutes and a shower later, Tara dressed and scrawled a note for Alyssa and Jackson. She headed to her car just as an SUV whipped into the driveway. Great. Now what?

An older woman sporting hair an interesting shade of blue jumped from the running board, gripping a casserole dish covered in foil. “Hi, there, honey.”

Like she knew this woman? Maybe a friend of Grandmere's? “Hello. Can I help you?”

“I'm from your grandmother's church and brought you this chicken casserole.” She reached Tara and handed her the dish. It was still warm. “You can stick it in the fridge if you're on your way out. Easy as pie to reheat. Just put it in the oven at three-seventy-five for thirty minutes and it'll be right as new.”

“Thank you.” The woman made no attempt to move. “I'm just on my way to work.”

“Oh. Don't let me keep you, then, honey. My name's on masking tape on the bottom. Marie will know how to get it back to me.” The woman gave a final nod before climbing back into her SUV and backing down the driveway.

Tara ran the casserole into the house, shoved it in the fridge, then headed back out the door. She couldn't risk Alyssa catching her at home.
Mais non.
That wouldn't do. She hopped in her car and sped to the jazz club.

But that casserole had sure smelled good. Her stomach growled as she parked behind the club. When was the last time she'd eaten? She'd grab something on her way to the hospital. In the meantime, she'd snatch all the pretzels she could from the club.

The band neared the end of its last set as Tara wove around people toward the office. She stopped at the bar and smiled at the bartender. “Hey, Mike, can ya give me some pretzels? I'm starved.”

He passed her a bag and winked. “Want a cola with that?”

“Please.” She turned to face the crowd.

Smoke hung a hazy curtain over the room. The band broke, then left the stage. Voices rose over the jukebox as it kicked on and spewed out old jazz classics. A few couples remained on the dance floor, oblivious to the change in music.

Her boss, Jayden, made his way across the crowded floor and plunked down on the barstool next to her. “Hey, there. I heard about your grandmother. How is she?”

“In a coma. That's part of the reason I came by—I need to take a leave of absence to be with her. I'll get everything caught up tonight, though.”

He touched her arm. “I understand. No problem. I'm so sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Jayden stood, hesitating. “If you need anything, you just call, okay? I'm here for you.”

She smiled as he touched her hand. “Thanks.”

He retreated to the back office while she glanced back over the dance floor. Another reason for her to take a leave of absence—Jayden had lately been showing interest in her. Too much interest.

“Hi.”

Tara nodded at the woman standing beside her at the bar. Stunningly beautiful, the woman lifted her blond hair off her neck. “It is hot in here, isn't it?”

Something about her accent, along with her striking good looks, struck Tara as familiar. “It's a bit warm, yes.” She inspected the woman.

Mike slid a tall cola across the bar to Tara, then widened his smile at the woman. “What can I get ya, honey?”

The woman primped without a mirror. “How about a martini, dry.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled at Tara.

The movement sparked a flash of recognition. It was the woman with the pharmaceutical company's research team. Irritation bloomed in Tara's chest. “I thought y'all would be long gone by now.” She took a sip of her drink, watching the woman over the rim of the glass.

“Not until we get what we came for.” The comment left no question that the woman knew exactly who Tara was.

“Thought you got it. The other night.” Tara set her drink on the bar and clutched the bag of pretzels tighter.

“Not quite.” The woman's throaty chuckle changed to a croon as Mike slid a martini glass toward her. “Thank you, so much. I'm downright parched.”

Parched? Who used such a word? A Yankee, that's who. Tara lifted her cola and pushed away from the bar. “Just make sure you stay off my land while you're getting whatever else you need. You've been warned.”

“Trespassers will be prosecuted?”

Tara narrowed her eyes at the woman's condescending tone, then smiled. “No, trespassers will be shot and fed to the gators.”

 

“Do you have any idea where my sister is?”

Bubba turned from the nurses' station and stared at Alyssa LeBlanc Devereaux. Her husband trailed her, wearing a sheepish look. “I don't know.”

Alyssa shook her head. “I can't believe she didn't call me and isn't here now.”

“Have you tried her cell phone? I talked to her earlier. She was fine.” Bubba shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He'd dropped off the dishes from the LeBlancs' at the lab, grabbed a quick sandwich and headed straight to the hospital, sure he'd see Tara.

He'd been wrong. As he usually was in regard to her. Beautiful, but frustrating.

“I'm sure she is. But she's not
here,
and she's not answering her cell. Someone should be with Grandmere all the time.”

Bubba rubbed his chin, dismissing the stubble this time. “We can only go back into the ICU to visit for fifteen minutes every couple of hours. The rest of the time is just hanging out in the waiting room.” Boy, no wonder Tara had berated him for calling Alyssa. He'd forgotten how demanding she could be when provoked. He should've remembered. But in his defense, he'd been in ICU himself most of the time she'd been working to find out who attacked him.

A fact he'd never forget.

Jackson lay an arm across his wife's back and extended his free hand to Bubba. “How's your aunt?”

Grabbing his old fraternity brother's palm, Bubba gave a half shrug. “No change.” And every hour that passed had him more worried. Neither Aunt Tanty's nor Mrs. LeBlanc's condition had been upgraded from critical, and the fact that the doctors still had no clue what had caused their comatose condition concerned him greatly. Not to mention Tara's admonitions. Or were they accusations?