Hall, Jessica (25 page)

"I can't." He moved in and put a hand on her shoulder.
"It doesn't mean anything. Settle down."

"Why should I?" She stopped unpacking and shrugged off
his hand. "Your life isn't being torn to shreds, Jean-Del. Mine is."

She didn't say
again,
but the word hovered between them
anyway. He had the feeling that she was relating
the present
situation to what had happened on the night of the dance ten years ago, but
why? What did their breakup have to do with an APB?

Another item to add to the list of things they were going to
settle before this was through. "You're not going to be arrested. I'll
tell them the truth."

That made her laugh—and it was a sad, bitter sound. "When has
the truth ever mattered?" She didn't wait for an answer but simply brushed
past him. "I'm going to take a shower."

She was still running away—from trouble, from him. Always from
him. Anger surged in him, but he shoved it down.

"My partner found a culling pole at the warehouse. Same kind
used out on the bayou." He leaned back and watched her halt in the
doorway. "They're testing it now, but it looks like it's the murder
weapon."

She turned slowly around. "So?"

He let his gaze drift down to her hands, which were clenched into
tight fists. "Your father—Remy—he's an oysterman, isn't he? I bet he knows
all the other oystermen on the bayou, too."

Her face went blank. "Papa is not getting involved in
this."

He already is, and you know something you're not telling me.
"Where
did he get those scars on his face?"

"As I told you last night, Papa was burned in the fire that
nearly killed my mother and me when I was a baby. He was the one who rescued
us." She folded her arms. "What's your point?"

"He must have loved you and your mother a lot."

"Yes, he did. But Remy had nothing to do with Marc's murder.
If anyone did, it was—" She stopped and drew in a deep breath. "It
could have been anyone."

"You mean it could have been Gantry." When she didn't
answer, he switched directions. "Remy risked his life to save you and your
mother. Then he married her and took you both away from here." He followed
the taut line of her jaw to the tick of the pulse at the base of her throat.
"You said Gantry's father was arrested right after the fire. That would
have been while Remy was recovering in the hospital, right?" She nodded.
"Then why did he take you and your mother away? Bud Gantry was in
prison."

"Someone paid him to burn our house. My mother was afraid
they'd try again." Her voice was tight. "She did it to protect
me."

"Or maybe Remy was worried about Marc."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know what you're trying to say. My
father may be nothing but a poor Cajun fisherman, but he's never hurt anyone in
his life."

"He stuck a shotgun in my face this morning."

She strode right up to him. "That was just for show and you
know it!"

"It must have been tough on him, knowing someone else got
your mother pregnant, but your mother never telling him who. Then finding out
after she died that your father could buy and sell him a hundred times
over."

"He was happy for me."

"Happy that Marc could give you everything that he couldn't.
Maybe it started to eat at him. First his wife, then his daughter—"

J. D. didn't try to avoid her hand as she swung and slapped him,
hard. "Don't you talk about my papa like that again," she whispered
through white lips. "Ever."

"You want the truth, baby? Sometimes the truth fucking
hurts." He caught her wrist when she tried to hit him again and used it to
pull her into his arms. "I'm
not letting you sacrifice
yourself to protect a killer. Not even if it's Remy. Do you understand
me?"

"I don't
know
who killed Marc," she said through
gritted teeth, twisting against his grip. "But it wasn't Remy. He ran into
the fire to save me and my mother. He wouldn't leave me to burn then and he
wouldn't have done it now."

"This is a waste of time—if s barely noon," Terri
grumbled. "I'm telling you, Gantry won't be there."

Cort should have left Terri Vincent back in the city, but she knew
where Gantry's operation was, and he didn't feel like wandering around the
swamp for hours trying to find it himself. "We'll check anyway."

"Of course we will." She sighed and turned onto a narrow
lane leading into the swamp.

"Tell me what you know about Gantry."

"He's the meanest son of a bitch in the state." At his
sideways glance, she sighed. "Okay, he's first runner-up. Should you ever
be unable to carry out your duties..."

He silently counted to ten. "Give me facts."

"Gantry has a large outfit, runs about thirty boats, most
with two- to three-man crews." As they approached the docks, she slid on
her sunglasses. "He does mostly fishing and swamp tours. He keeps to
himself and he doesn't like cops." She leaned forward. "Oh,
hell."

"Hell what?" All he could see was a decrepit old Chevy
parked on the side of the lane. "Let's run a check on that plate."

She didn't want to tell him, but finally dragged the
words
out. "I don't have to. That's the car that was reported stolen from Mercy
ER last night."

Which meant his brother or Isabel Duchesne had been here. Could
still be here. Cort counted five boats and fifteen men at the dock as she
parked. He got out. One of the men—the biggest one—was already walking toward
them.

"That Gantry?"

"That's him." Terri put herself in front of Cort,
holding up one hand. "Hang on, Caine. This is official business."

Gantry looked over her head at Cort. "You look like a
Gamble."

"I am."

"Got a warrant?" When Terri shook her head, Gantry
showed some teeth. "Then get the hell off my property."

Cort smiled back. "Sure. Soon as you tell us where my brother
and Isabel Duchesne are."

"Fuck if I know." The big man looked down at Terri, and
some of the hatred left his face as he put a hand on her shoulder. "You
and I gonna go round about this again, Therese? I thought we danced enough last
night."

Before he thought about what he was doing, Cort moved and shoved
Gantry away from Terri. "You'll want to keep your hands off her and where
I can see them, Cajun."

"Or what?" Black eyes measured him. "You might be
big enough, Gamble, but I doubt you have the belly for it."

Cort centered his weight. "Try me."

"Whoa. Guys. I'm starting to choke on all the male hormones
in the air." Terri put herself between them and placed a hand on Cort's
chest. "Marshal, we're not
here to brawl, just ask some questions.
And you"—she turned to Caine and jabbed his sternum with her
finger—"you're going to settle down and answer them."

"Gamble isn't here. Neither is Isabel." He jerked a
thumb back toward his boats. "Ask my crew. We've been out looking for them
all morning."

Cort folded his arms. "Why bother?"

"We're decent folks," Gantry said, his tone as bland as
Cort's.

"Decent folks who take care of their own."

"Your cop brother and his slut don't belong to us." His
upper Up curled. "You can take them on back to the city, as soon as we
find them."

"Before or after you crack their skulls?"

Gantry's smile widened. "You got something to say, Gamble, go
ahead and say it."

"Caine." Terri's voice held some kind of warning.
"We need to know if you're missing any gear."

Black eyes moved to her face. "Like what?"

"Like a murder weapon." Cort started walking toward the
wet house, but the big man got in his way. "I can come back with a
warrant, and a Fish and Game inspector. The warrant will permit a search, but
the warden will shut you down. The same way Marc would have."

"Bring it on. I run a legal operation here, and my lawyer
loves to take assholes like you to court." Gantry turned to Terri.
"What's this about a murder weapon?"

"Someone used a culling pole to kill Marc LeClare."

Gantry went still, then regarded Terri the way he would a
poisonous snake. "You really do want to wrap things up in a hurry, don't
you,
chère?"

To Cort's surprise, the brunette flushed. "It's not what you
think, Caine."

"I don't think—I know. It runs in the family." He eyed
Cort. "So, you sweet-talk her into planting it, or was it her idea?"

Cort knew Terri's father had been a cop, but had been caught
planting evidence at a scene and forced to retire. The disgrace was not common
knowledge, however, and before he broke the Cajun's jaw he'd find out how
Gantry knew about it. "Terri?"

"Caine's father is my mother's brother." She rubbed a
hand over the back of her neck. "Much as I hate to admit it, we're first
cousins."

Cold rage solidified inside Cort. "That's why you've been
trying to dump the case."

She nodded. "As soon as I heard it was Marc LeClare. If Caine
here didn't set that fire and kill him, then another member of my extended
family probably did."

Gantry grabbed her arm and gave her a rough shake. "You don't
go pointing fingers at kin, girl."

"Gantry." An ugly heat rose inside him. "I told you
to keep your hands off her."

The big man released Terri's arm and chucked her under the chin.
"Why didn't you tell him you were a coon-ass,
chère?
Might have
gotten in his pants faster." He directed a sneer at Cort. "Won't make
any difference if you turn the lights out, you know. Hell, a Cajun girl can
teach you what you're really supposed to do with your dick."

It was as if the civilized switch in Corf s head suddenly clicked
off for the first time in his life. He lunged, and Gantry met him halfway. They
went down grappling.

"Cort!" Terri skirted around them. "Damn it, Caine,
stop it!"

Gantry's heavy fist plowed into his jaw just as Cort
knocked
the air out of his lungs with a punch to the diaphragm. He shoved the Cajun
away, jackknifing to his feet at the same time Gantry did. The two men circled
for a moment, waiting for an opening. The sound of a gun being fired three
times made them both freeze.

"Now that I have your attention," Terri said, holding
her weapon on them, "I'd like a little cooperation. Caine Gantry, you're
under arrest for assault and whatever else I can think up on the way into the
station. Marshal Gamble." She tossed a pair of handcuffs to Cort. "Do
the honors, if you would." She turned to the advancing wall of Caine's men
and shifted her aim. "John, you're in charge. How many of your boys do you
want to take to the emergency room today?"

"Coldhearted bitch," Caine muttered as Cort cuffed him.

"Runs in the family," Terri agreed cheerfully.
"John, you've been to my daddy's house—you've seen my marksmanship
trophies in the hutch in the dining room. Let's not add to them."

"I'll call the lawyer, Caine." The foreman held out an
arm, and the crew halted in their tracks. "Let them

Cort marched Gantry to the car and shoved him in the back before
getting behind the wheel. Terri slid in the other side, keeping her eye on the
surly faces of the fishermen.

"You're making a big mistake,
chère,"
Gantry
said. "He came at me—it was self-defense."

"It's whatever I say it was." She eyed him in the
rearview. "You'll want to shut up now, cos."

Gantry subsided into silence, and Terri busied herself trying to
call someone on her cell. Cort didn't trust himself to speak on the drive back
to the city. He
escorted the big man into police headquarters and handed him off
to the desk sergeant before heading for the elevator. Terri called after him
but he didn't hesitate.

He came back down to Processing a half hour later, and found her
typing up the arrest report with Gantry still cuffed in a chair beside the
desk. "Terri."

"Yo." She pulled the report out of the typewriter and
hunted in the drawer until she pulled out a case file folder. "Just
finishing up. You want to take his statement with me? It's bound to be a
fiction of incredible proportions."

"Terri." Cort waited until she looked directly at him.
"Detective Garcia will take over from here."

"What are you talking about?" She looked from him to the
unhappy Garcia and back to him. "This is my collar."

"I've had you removed from the case." He nodded to
Garcia, who took Gantry by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "You're
assigned to desk duty upstairs until further notice."

He turned his back on her stunned face and walked away. The only
sound that followed him was Caine Gantry's low, soft laughter.