Bayou Judgment (8 page)

“I'm not a child, Luc.” Her voice rose an octave.

“Then stop acting like one!”

“Just go. Leave me alone.” She slammed the door. The click of a dead bolt echoed across the courtyard.

Luc shook his head and knocked again. “Open the door. I have something to tell you. About Mom.”

The wait felt like forever as he leaned against the wall. Spencer's stomach cramped. He hated confrontations like this. Had seen enough, been through enough, to last a lifetime.

Luc rapped his knuckles against the door. “C'mon, Felicia. I'm serious.”

Still no answer.

He turned from the door and caught sight of Spencer. “She's probably gone in the back where she can't hear. Tuning me out.”

Spencer nodded. What could he say?

“I need to check on Mom. Will you tell Felicia where we are when she calms down?”

“Sure.” Great, he'd be the bearer of bad news again.

“
Merci,
Pastor.” Luc headed to the parking lot.

Spencer fell into step alongside him. “I'll be praying for your mother.” He patted Luc's shoulder.

“I appreciate that. Tell Felicia I'll call her after I've seen about Mom.”

Luc peeled out of the parking lot, tossing loose gravel onto the sidewalk. Spencer headed to Felicia's apartment. Maybe she'd cooled off some by now. He hoped so. He felt a little like Daniel being tossed into the lions' den.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, he clipped a person with his shoulder. Glancing up, Spencer stared into the face of a tired-looking young woman. “Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Same,” she replied, continuing her trek down the walkway.

Something about her voice sounded familiar to him. What was it? He glanced over his shoulder. She wasn't a member of his congregation, that much he knew. Had she visited, perhaps?

Felicia's door swung open, and she stepped onto the sidewalk, her cane in her right hand and a yard-size trash bag in the other. She dropped the bag when her eyes lit on him. “What're you still doing here?”

“I talked to Luc.”

She peered over his shoulder. “Is he making plans to come in and scoop me back home? Didn't you tell him the sheriff has Kipp?”

Obviously not enough time had passed to cool her ire.

“Uh, Felicia, I need to tell you something.”

Anger scurried from her eyes. “What's wrong?” She leaned against the door frame.

“Luc received a call. Your mother's checked herself into a rehab clinic.”

“What?” The cane tumbled to the concrete. “Where? When?”

Spencer slowly handed her cane back to her, careful not to be obvious in taking care of her. “All I know is she's at a place in Covington, and Luc said he'd call you once he checked in on her.”

Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. “It's all my fault. Luc warned me she'd begun drinking again after I moved back here, but I didn't listen.” She shook her head. “No, I had to be Ms. Independence and think only of myself. Selfish, selfish, selfish.” Her last words were barely audible.

He couldn't take her beating herself up. Reaction and instinct kicked in. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her into the curve of his arm. Her entire body trembled. He planted a kiss on her temple, ignoring the little voice in his head warning him to keep his distance.

But as she clung to him tighter than ever before, Spencer had a sneaking suspicion his heart would drown out the alarms.

W
asn't there a rule somewhere in the universe that mornings were milder, calmer in the South? Wasn't that why people referred to New Orleans as the Big Easy? If no such rule existed, it should.

Unfortunately, Felicia had a morning as dense as the lily pads on the bayou. Physical therapy had been a cakewalk compared to the visit with her mother. The lamenting, the crying, the theatrics, not to mention the free guilt trip…all wore Felicia slap out. Yet she still had another stop to make.

Two Mardi Gras masks covered the entryway into the sheriff's office. She yanked the door open with a weight in her heart despite the revelry of the decorations. After asking the dispatcher, Missy, to see the sheriff and being told to have a seat, Felicia checked her cell phone again—no missed calls. Why hadn't Sheriff Theriot called last night and given an update on Kipp?

And why hadn't she heard from Spence?

No, she wouldn't wonder about that. He'd made his intentions, or lack thereof, very clear. She'd remove him from her mind, once and for all.

Shame her heart wouldn't comply.

The door whisked open, pulling in the nippy February air. A deputy led a handcuffed man through the swinging door. Felicia scowled as they disappeared around the corner. But once she'd realized what she'd done, a chill deeper than the temperature settled in the pit of her stomach. Had she really become so hardened against criminals that she couldn't comprehend forgiveness? The thought made her shudder. She'd have to work on letting go of such animosity.

“Felicia.”

She snapped up her head and struggled to stand. “Sheriff Theriot.”

“What can I help you with?”

“Kipp Landry? Jolie's murder?”

He let out a weary sigh and opened the swinging door.

“
Allons
back to my office.”

She exerted care with each heavy step until she dropped into a chair in his office. “You said you'd call me. About Kipp.”

The sheriff sat behind his desk, the wooden chair legs creaking against the weight. “We have two options here, Felicia. One, release him and put a tail on him. See if he leads us to these loan sharks. Or two, keep him here with the extortion charge and maybe never learn who killed Jolie.”

“He hasn't given up their names?”

“Nope. Says he's too scared.”

“Can't you make him tell you?”

“You know as well as I do that you can't make somebody cough up a name if they don't want to.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “You seemed to do quite well when you were intimidating my brother, yes?”

His face flushed. “C'mon, Felicia. I was just doing my job. Luc understands that.”

She knew it, too. “Why didn't you call and tell me this?”

He squirmed and avoided eye contact.

“You called Luc again, didn't you?”

“Look, I know Kipp scared you and all, but I really think we have a better chance to get to the truth by letting him out and following him.”

“He didn't scare me. He made me furious.” She stomped to her feet. “So you confided in Luc to get him to urge me not to press charges against Kipp for his extortion.”

He stood. “We're running out of clues on the case, Felicia. I'll use whatever I have in order to get a break.”

“Including me?”

“I don't think you're in any danger.”

The image of Kipp's enraged face blipped across her mental radar. The sheriff might not be right on that danger issue. “Have you considered Kipp could've killed Jolie? People do murder their kin.” Like Grandfather's killer.

“We did. His alibi for the time of death holds.”

“What alibi?”

“He was at the casino, at the blackjack table. The manager verified that.”

“Who could be involved with the loan sharks and lying for him, yes? The involvement of the casino in my grandfather's case proved the unreliability of those people.”

Sheriff Theriot shook his head. “Security tapes don't lie.”

Figured he'd have a thick-as-Spanish-moss alibi. “What about Sadie Thompson? Our neighbor heard yelling and identified Sadie at the scene of the crime.”

“She's been cleared because the timing isn't right. And, she has an alibi.” He scowled. “I understand you went looking for Sadie. You're bordering on interfering in a police investigation, Felicia.”

“There's no law that says I can't talk to people, yes?” She blew off the implied warning, opting to appeal to his emotions instead. “Jolie was my best friend, Sheriff. Our neighbor saw Sadie and heard her yelling at Jolie.”

“The time of death was after Sadie left. The coroner confirmed it.”

“She could be lying about when she left. Sadie's not exactly the most trustworthy person in Lagniappe, you know.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Don't you think we verified her alibi?”

“But is the verifier honest?”

“I'd say the preacher of our church is pretty honest.”

Felicia snorted. “Our preacher?
Sadie
was with our preacher? Whatever for?”

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Just because someone's a preacher doesn't make them righteous.” Or above playing with someone's emotions. Felicia pressed her lips together, shoving out Spence's image.

“Good point.” The sheriff sighed. “Look, we're checking out every lead we have. But right now, my gut tells me to go with following Kipp and see where it goes.”

“What about Wesley? Is he still a suspect in your book?”

“Right now, we're focusing our efforts on Kipp, but we'll consider all evidence.”

Would justice ever be served for Jolie? And what about Luc? Would letting Kipp walk make her brother demand she move back home, especially with all that was happening with their mother?

“I really wish you hadn't called Luc, Bubba.”

Sheepishness darkened his face, despite the glow his red hair cast from the overhead lights. “I didn't get to talk to him, if that helps any. I left a message on his voice mail.”

Maybe she had a shot at keeping her independence. “What'd you say on the message?”

“Just that I wanted his opinion on the extortion charges.”

Yes! “When he calls back, you can just tell him the situation's been handled.”

“Has it?” He arched a brow.

She let out a sigh. Either take a chance on solving Jolie's murder and silencing Luc's threat to move her back home or stand on principle and risk having the goals she'd worked so hard to attain ripped out from under her. What a choice. “Yes. I won't press the extortion charges.”

Lord, did You have to make her so beautiful from the inside out?

Spencer stared across the center, his focus on Felicia in spite of himself. His eyes had a mind of their own.

But I tell You that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

Did that Scripture apply if he wasn't married? Wait a minute, he didn't feel lust for her. He felt affection for her, yes, but not lust. So that Scripture didn't apply at all.

How about
“If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell”
? Was his focus on Felicia and not the case causing him to sin? Should he be focusing more on protecting the center?

Nothing but silence answered him.

Felicia waved, her arm flailing. He rushed to her station.

“I'm sorry, Winnie, but we had to notify the police of your calls. I'm sure you have no intention on acting violently toward your ex, but we have a moral obligation to report your comments.” Felicia wrapped the cord around her pointer finger.

Spencer grabbed the secondary headset and plugged into the call.

“Can't believe you'd stoop so low. This is what I get for calling a Christian hotline. And I thought we could be friends.”

“No matter what kind of hotline you called, the operator is still obligated to report such threats.”

“I don't believe you. It's only because you're part of those do-gooders.”

Spencer activated the microphone on his headset. “Winnie, this is Pastor Bertrand and—”

“She switched my call to you? I don't believe that piece of…”

The disconnection popped, as if she'd slammed the phone down. Spencer tossed the headset onto the desk while Felicia dropped her head. “She's right. We don't normally report such things to the police.”

Spencer tucked a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his. “That was before Jolie was murdered. We have to put safeguards in place. Don't you feel guilty over this, Felicia.”

She jerked away from his touch. “That woman has nothing to do with Jolie's murder.”

“No, but it's made me realize I need to tighten procedures around here.” His heart raced as she met his stare. “To protect y'all.”

“But word will get out on the street that we're snitches, and nobody will call in. How can we help them then?”

“We have to trust that God will send the people here who need us. Who we can help.”

He met her gaze.

Big mistake.

Longing for what could be shoved the air from his lungs.

She nodded. “I know you're right, but it's discouraging. For the callers, I mean.”

He could detect the disappointment hovering in her tone. Just about the center, or was there more?

A sinking feeling sat in the pit of his gut. After Frank had been killed, she'd kept everyone at arm's length, not willing to take the chance to be hurt again. He'd watched her rebuild her life on her own terms. Now she looked at him with something else. Something beyond the friendship they'd forged.

He met her inquiring stare, the one that pinned him to the spot. Waiting for him to say something. “God will work through us, regardless of the guidelines we work within.”

She let out a soft sigh. Obviously not the response she'd been looking for. “I—”

Her phone rang. She gave him a half smile and lifted the receiver.

He couldn't resist squeezing her shoulder before trudging back to his office. The need to put his face to the floor pulled his steps faster. The time had come to do some real seeking from the Father.