Only By Moonlight (25 page)

Between them they guided LaShaun to her feet.
A walk that seemed to last forever took them to M.J.’s white Chevy
Tahoe. The Sheriff’s Department shield was on the front doors. The
deputy practically lifted LaShaun single-handedly into the
passenger side of the back seat. M.J. pulled a large flannel
blanket from a bag. She opened it and spread it across LaShaun.

“Hey, what is this?” LaShaun protested,
though the leather seat felt welcome after the hard cold
ground.

“You could go into shock easily after the
night you’ve had. Now stretch out.” M.J. satisfied herself that
LaShaun was well covered up. She turned at the sound of another
vehicle.

“I don’t need to lie down.” LaShaun relaxed
against the seat back. Despite her attempt at bravado, her eyelids
felt like tiny weights. She even felt too weak to close the vehicle
door.

A long white RV pulled up with the Sheriff
Department logo and the words Incident Command painted in large
letters on it. One of the doors swung open and Dave Godchaux jumped
down. He walked toward them looking like he was already in charge.
LaShaun sat up on alert, her lethargy suddenly gone.

“Sheriff, anything else we need out here?
Going to be too dark for an evidence search. I assigned Deputy
Thibeau to patrol out here tonight to keep the area secure as
possible.” Dave glanced around before he faced M.J. again.

“Thanks, Dave. That’s good thinking,” M.J.
said.

“Yeah, yeah,” LaShaun muttered as she watched
them.

Though she strained to hear, their voices
were low as they walked off toward the clearing. No doubt M.J. was
bringing him up to speed. Dave carried a powerful flashlight with a
huge lens. He and M.J. continued to walk for a few seconds only and
then headed back. Their conversation became more audible as they
approached.

“I agree, Sheriff. Getting her checked out is
the best thing. You want to call Deputy Broussard I expect,” Dave
said. Then his voice went low.

M.J. answered him just as quietly before he
turned around and went back to the Incident Command RV. “Okay,
let’s go. Deputy Thibeau, keep your eyes on anything moving out
here.”

“Will do, Sheriff,” he replied in a deep
voice. He shut the SUV’s door and he looked at LaShaun. “Feel
better, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” LaShaun replied. She started to say
more but the deputy quickly strode off intent on his patrol.
“Where’s Chase?”

M.J. climbed into the SUV behind the wheel.
After she slammed the door shut M.J. let out a noisy grunt.
“Investigating leads on that last victim we found. The guy’s so
beat up we had to use fingerprints to identify him. Luckily he has
a long criminal record. He’s a felon on the run from Shreveport, a
known gang member.”

“Damn. Greg is running with a rough crowd.”
LaShaun shivered.

“We can’t tie him to Greg. Remember they
weren’t found together. So I sent Chase up to Shreveport to look
for any possible connection.” M.J. turned the key and the Tahoe
rumbled to life. “But mostly to get him out of town for a
while.”

“And you’re going to tell me why,” LaShaun
shot back, ready to defend him despite pain and fatigue.

M.J. scowled at LaShaun. “After you get
checked out at the hospital. Don’t try that scary voodoo princess
look on me. I’m not in the damn mood.”

“Humph.” LaShaun crossed her arms and glared
at the world through the wide windshield. She knew M.J. wouldn’t
say more until she thought it was the right time.

“He’s meeting with a gang task force. No
interviewing gang bangers, so he’s not going to be in any tricky
situations,” M.J. added.

“I can’t wait to hear your explanation.
You’ve gotten a lot like your mentor Sheriff Triche.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” M.J. drawled in imitation
of the retired Sheriff’s deep swamp country Cajun accent.

“I didn’t mean that as a compliment,” LaShaun
grumbled.

M.J.’s loud laugh in response only made
LaShaun more petulant. She settled in for a long ride back to town
with the steel-willed Acting Sheriff. She knew full well M.J. would
stay true to her word and not talk. LaShaun grunted in
annoyance.

Chapter 15

The ER doctor released LaShaun after two
hours of observation at the hospital. L She felt alert and jittery.
Since M.J. wanted to get her statement, they drove to the sheriff’s
station. More than a few heads turned to watch them once they
arrived. As M.J. closed the door to her office, the low hum of
conversation signaled a lot of speculation was going on. LaShaun
sat down on one of the imitation leather chairs in front of the
wide desk. True to form papers were arranged neatly on it. One set
in a stylish wooden outbox. Another set waited for attention in the
matching inbox.

“See how much fun it is being Sheriff?” M.J.
frowned down at the stack of messages and snorted.

“You handle the job with a lot of grace,”
LaShaun replied with a grin.

“Diplomacy, tact, and a quick lesson in
playing politics is what this job requires. Having a level head
doesn’t hurt either,” M.J. said and sat down in the executive chair
behind her desk.

“Hmm.” LaShaun could sense something more was
on M.J.’s mind so she waited.

M.J. rested her elbows on the wood surface.
“I’m still worried about Chase. I mean his state of mind.”

“Listen, Sheriff, there is nothing wrong with
Chase,” LaShaun shot back. When her outburst was met with silence
LaShaun sighed. “I’m sorry. This has been one helluva day for
me.”

“I hate bringing it up now, but his behavior
is causing folks to talk. I don’t think it’s helping his campaign.
At first he was the ‘tough on criminals’ hero. Now more than a few
people are saying he might go overboard. Greg’s parents are
whipping up sympathy with some in their crowd.”

“Humph, you don’t have to tell me people can
turn on a dime. Funny how they were thrilled when he arrested a
poor black kid. But let a privileged spoiled brat be held
accountable and all of a sudden Chase is too hardnosed.” LaShaun
grimaced.

“He’s still got his defenders. Quentin
Trosclair and Neal Montgomery seem to think he’s fair and honest.”
M.J. raised both her dark shapely eyebrows

LaShaun stared at M.J. like she’d just
announced a unicorn was in the parking lot. “Is that a joke?”

“You heard me right,” M.J. replied.

Before LaShaun could react, Dave Godchaux
knocked firmly and opened the door. “Excuse me, Sheriff. I needed
to tell you before I finish up paperwork with the guys and go home.
Judge Trahan released Regan to the custody of her parents. Becky
has a big knot on her head, so they’re keeping her overnight for
observation. So far the baby seems fine though, and they don’t
think Becky has a concussion. The overnight stay is
precautionary.”

M.J. heaved a relieved sigh. “Well that’s
something. The last thing we need is a charge that we caused a
sixteen year old girl to miscarry.”

“You might want to mention that big as hell
knife she was swinging at me. The girl acted like a serial killer
from one of those old slasher movies,” LaShaun retorted and rubbed
a growing dull ache in her right shoulder.

“The problem is her parents have influence.
The judge will consider her age, no previous record. The assistant
DA said something about letting her plead to assault,” Dave
said.

“I don’t want her in jail, even though I’d
love to be the one to give her a spanking she never forgets,”
LaShaun retorted.

“I have to agree. These privileged brats have
gone way past annoying pranks. Maybe a judge can put some scare
into her,” Dave replied.

“Yeah, we can only hope,” M.J. said with a
sigh.

“I don’t think that girl is scared of
anybody,” LaShaun muttered. When Dave cleared his throat, LaShaun
looked at him.

Dave gazed at M.J. “Did you...”

“Yeah, we were just talking about Chase.”
M.J.’s worried frown returned.

LaShaun glared at Dave. “Look, I know you
want to get elected, but don’t try trashing Chase’s good name to do
it.”

“Dave isn’t trying to take advantage of this
situation,” M.J. said quickly.

“Sure he isn’t,” LaShaun replied.

“He didn’t bring up the conversation. I did.
Two deputies had already expressed concern to Dave since he’s in a
supervisory position,” M.J. said.

“They didn’t want to talk to M.J., I mean the
Sheriff, and hurt his career with the powers that be,” Dave
added.

“Lord, please don’t refer to me as one of the
‘powers that be’,” M.J. said. She pinched the bridge of her nose
and rubbed eyes red with fatigue.

“You know what I mean,” Dave said quietly.
“I’m surprised the mayor or president of the aldermen board hasn’t
shown up.”

LaShaun stood. “Chase was a hero just a few
days ago. People in this town make me sick. I’m ready to go
home.”

“You’re going to stop being so defensive and
listen,” M.J. said. When LaShaun cast a heated glance at Dave she
sighed. “Thanks for the update, Dave.”

Dave nodded his understanding. “I’m his
opponent in the race, Miss Rousselle. But I’m not his enemy.” He
left and closed the door behind him.

“He’s right, LaShaun. Dave has his faults,
like being a real kiss-up to the ‘powers that be’ as he put it.
But,” M.J. said quickly to cut off a wisecrack from LaShaun. “He
really wants what’s best for Vermilion Parish.”

“Sounds like you’re ready to hand out
leaflets for him,” LaShaun said sourly. When M.J. crossed her arms
and stared back at her, LaShaun lost some of the heat in her
attitude. “So fine, Dave is an all round solid guy.”

“The point being something is going on with
Chase. Dave isn’t the only one who’s taking notice.” M.J. gestured
for LaShaun to sit back down.

LaShaun suddenly felt worn out. She dropped
back into the chair. Closing her eyes, LaShaun willed herself not
to blurt out all of her fears. She had no intention of sharing her
true suspicions with the level-headed Acting Sheriff. M.J. had a
serious skepticism about the supernatural. In her opinion most of
the local legends were a big pile of nonsense superstition.

“Maybe it’s the stress of facing an election
and a wedding. I don’t know,” LaShaun said in a muted tone.

“He had some bad experiences in Afghanistan.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can come out in some strange ways.
And I hope... that he’s not drinking,” M.J. said.

“Chase only drinks socially with his pals and
not even that often. How could you even imply he’s an alcoholic? I
can’t believe you’d say such a thing,” LaShaun said, her voice
bouncing off the glass wall windows that surrounded M.J.’s
office.

Outside, two deputies looked into the office.
M.J. waved a hand at them and turned back to LaShaun. Her stony
expression showed that she was done with the soft approach. “Stop
twisting what I say. You know damn well I support Chase’s campaign.
More than that, we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Right,” LaShaun said, but her spurt of
outrage had fizzled at the look M.J. gave her.

“Damn right,” M.J. shot back. “Chase used to
party too much when he was a teenager. His daddy got him out of
trouble a few times back in the day. I’m worried that seeing some
bad stuff during his Army tours might push him back to hard
drinking.”

LaShaun let out a long, slow breath. “Chase
is acting strange, but he’s not drinking too much. Trust me on
that.”

“Okay, well what about this? Doesn’t it worry
you that of all people, Quentin Trosclair is on his side? Not to
mention that lawyer from New Orleans trying to get crazy Manny
Young back on the streets. I can tell you it’s kept my mind buzzing
for the last day or two since I found out.”

LaShaun’s heart skipped at her words. “Yeah,
and Chase went to Quentin’s Mardi Gras party. He said he wanted to
meet voters on Quentin’s side of the tracks.”

“Chase didn’t like Quentin long before you
came to town. To say I’m surprised Chase decided to socialize with
Quentin is an understatement. Even with the election coming up.”
M.J. blinked at LaShaun.

“It gets better. Greg’s daddy made a big
scene. He accused Chase of harassing his son. We didn’t have much
fun let me tell ya.” LaShaun massaged her temples as a tension
headache threatened.

“Jonathan Graham is saying Chase set up that
scene at your house just so he could shoot Greg.” M.J. waved both
hands in the air when LaShaun’s mouth dropped open. “I know it’s
nutty, but folks are starting to listen. Add to that we don’t have
any evidence that Greg killed Elliot. The other members of that
little gang aren’t talking. Or what they’re saying doesn’t make
sense.”

“Tell me,” LaShaun said.

“I won’t discuss an active investigation. All
I’m saying is so far the DA isn’t anywhere close to a murder
charge, maybe reckless endangerment or aggravated negligent
injury.” M.J. slumped back in her chair.

“You don’t have to tell me Elliot’s parents
are upset,” LaShaun said.

M.J. looked at the pictures of her ten year
old son. “Hell yeah. I don’t want to know what that’s like. Ever. I
want my kid to bury me.”

LaShaun put a hand over her abdomen and
thought about the threat to children she might have. Correction,
according to two gifted psychics, LaShaun would most definitely
have children. Even worse, a demon looked forward to their
birth.

“I know,” LaShaun said softly.

M.J.’s eyes went wide. “Wait a minute. Are
you pregnant?”

“What? No!” LaShaun burst out. “And don’t
start that rumor. All we need is folks saying Chase is a ‘baby
daddy’.”

“Right, right.” M.J. glanced around as though
afraid someone had overheard her question. Then she lowered her
voice. “A lot of us would be happy for you both.”

“Not his mother, or a certain group of
conservative old Beau Chene folks.” LaShaun felt a tingle when she
looked at M.J. “You know something.”