Only By Moonlight (4 page)

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t wiggle out of answering
my question. What did you hear or see outside?” Chase followed
LaShaun to the bedroom when she headed off.

LaShaun put her derringer and knife in the
drawer of a small table and then got undressed. She still wore her
pajamas underneath her clothes. “Some kind of rustling, like maybe
one of Mr. Marchand’s horses got loose or something. I took the
weapons for safety, like you would have told me to do.”

“I told you not to even go out, but to call
the station and they’d get word to me.” Chase gazed at her hard,
and then took off his shirt.

“We got to go through this again? I’m no
scary little girl who can’t protect herself, so just relax. I don’t
want you worried about me while you’re out chasing bad guys.
Concentrate on them, so you’ll stay safe.” LaShaun walked to him
and planted a kiss on his lips.

“You’re trying to get me off the subject,”
Chase murmured and brushed a hand through her hair.

“I can’t think when you’re looking so hot,
Mr. Lawman.” LaShaun kissed him again, slowly and more
passionately. She tugged at the zipper of his jeans.

In seconds, they were definitely distracted.
Chase covered LaShaun’s body with kisses that left her weak. By the
time they were joined, LaShaun would have told him anything he
wanted to know. Chase’s only conversation consisted of how much he
craved her in every way. After long, luscious minutes of pure
pleasure, the electric pinnacle to their desire left them panting.
They lay side by side locked in a loving embrace.

“Nice breakfast,” he murmured as he nuzzled
her neck.

“I love you, Deputy Broussard,” LaShaun
whispered.

“April I’ll be saying ‘I love you Mrs.
Broussard’,” he replied. His eyes closed, but before he drifted off
to sleep, Chase added softly, “When I wake up we’re going to talk
about what you really thought was outside.”

“But--” LaShaun began but broke off.

His soft regular breathing stopped her. With
the long hours and stress of the last few days, LaShaun knew he
needed rest, not arguments. She snuggled closer to him, knowing
very well he’d keep his promise to get answers. LaShaun also knew
he’d be quite dismayed when he got them.

She kissed his forehead. “Be careful what you
ask for.”

***

The next day, the residents of Beau Chene
buzzed with the latest news. Over a late breakfast, or early lunch
since they didn’t eat until eleven o’clock, Chase watched the news.
The Channel Six early morning broadcasts were replayed on a local
access cable channel until noon. The grim set of his jaw tightened
as a young male reporter talked.

“What’s he doing on my crime scene? Dave is
supposed to be in charge of keeping folks outta there,” Chase burst
out after a commercial came on. He pointed his fork at the
television. A chunk of sausage danced crazily on the end of it.

“Stop getting all worked up, honey. Looked
like the reporter was a good distance away from the crime tape,”
LaShaun replied calmly.

Chase wasn’t in the mood to be reassured. “I
can’t wait for this damn election to be over. Dave is probably
kissing up to the media. If I hear any stuff that’s from a ‘source
inside the sheriff’s department’ I’m going to kick his--”

“Whoa now, you can’t be beating on your
opponent. That is not video you want going viral on the Internet.
Calm down,” LaShaun insisted. “Besides, you don’t know that Dave is
talking to the media or giving them inside tidbits.”

“He’s seen the polls. I’m ahead by two
points. Dave is determined to be the next sheriff.” Chase sighed
and dropped the fork onto his plate. “I don’t know why I ever
thought running for sheriff was a good idea. I hate all this
political crap!”

“Sheriff Triche and M.J. both schooled you on
what to expect. Sheriff Triche said being a lawman is only fifty
percent of the job,” LaShaun said in a deep gruff voice in
imitation of the older man.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. I don’t mind working
with people in the community, making policy and administrative
decisions. but dealing with the mayors and other local politicians…
gonna take a lot of gettin’ used to.” Chase gathered up his plate
and LaShaun’s and then went to the sink. He started the faucet and
poured liquid soap into the sink.

“It’s going to take diplomacy, so start
practicing. By the way, thanks for the delicious breakfast. Can I
expect regular service like this after we’re married?” LaShaun
teased. She grinned at him.

“Washing dishes and doing other chores
relaxes me. You most certainly can expect plenty of service after
we’re married,” Chase quipped, wiggling his dark eyebrows at her
before returning to his task.

“I’m gonna hold you to all promises, stated
and implied,” LaShaun said with a laugh. “Seriously though, Chase.
You’re going to make a wonderful sheriff.

“So M.J. keeps telling me. I think she’s just
itching to let me sit in the hot seat. I’d rather have her as an
opponent. At least I’d know we wouldn’t have a brown-nosing fool
running the department.”

M.J. Arceneaux had made history by being the
first black person and first woman appointed acting sheriff. More
than a few citizens had urged her to run for the office. M.J. stood
firm in telling everyone ‘no way’. Privately, she’d confided in
LaShaun and Savannah that she wasn’t ready to face the constant
backlash. She felt sure every decision she made would be
questioned. Any missteps would be amplified because of her race and
gender.

“There would be a lot of pressure on her, and
she’s a single mother. Besides, she’d rather be one of the tribe
than be the chief.” LaShaun giggled when Chase rolled his eyes at
her.

“I get it. M.J. is part Indian and you’re so
clever,” Chase shot back as he rinsed soap from a plate.

“Thank you,” LaShaun said, ignoring his
playful sarcasm. “Anyway, you’re going to win. I’ve seen it in the
stars.”

“Don’t be saying stuff like that in front of
folks. They’ll swear you worked a mojo or something equally
stupid.” Chase scrubbed the cast iron skillet he’d used to fry up
eggs and sausage.

“Us voodoo queens routinely use gri-gris to
get what we want,” LaShaun replied. When Chase let out a loud groan
she giggled. “I won’t kid about it outside these walls. I can count
the number of folks on one hand who’d know I was joking.”

“Humph, fortunately, we have a lot of new
blood in the parish now.” Chase stacked plates onto the drain
tray.

LaShaun joined him at the kitchen sink. She
grabbed a fluffy towel to dry them. “They’ll vote for you. Dave has
the solid, good old boy thing going on. But you have the young,
fresh twenty-first century look. Not to mention you’re sexy as
hell. Women will flock to the polls to vote for you.”

“Oh please.” Chase shook his head.

“I’m serious, babe. Take a picture with your
shirt off, hat pushed back and with those brawny arms crossed. Put
that on a billboard and Deputy Godchaux’s campaign is dead in the
water.” LaShaun grinned when he winced.

“Luckily you’re not my campaign manager,”
Chase said with a scowl.

“You don’t have one,” LaShaun replied.

“And now you see why,” he retorted. Chase
wiped his hands dry and leaned against the counter. “Speaking of
your gift for seeing stuff in the stars, what exactly did you see
in the woods at two o’clock this morning?”

“Ahem… I saw, hmm, it was a strange light.”
LaShaun concentrated a little too much on drying the last coffee
cup. She turned away from his scrutiny to put the dishes in the
cabinet.

“A blue light like the times before?” Chase
stood straight and frowned.

“I was still half asleep. It could have been
just moonlight reflected on mist rising from the ground.” LaShaun
worked on making her tone of voice matter-of-fact.

“You wouldn’t have gone out there locked and
loaded if you thought it was just moonlight. You had your
grandmother’s rosary in your jacket pocket. It fell out when I hung
up your coat.”

LaShaun let out a long sigh. “Okay. Okay. I
talked to Miss Rose over in Mouton Cove. She taught my mama way
back in grade school. She was good friends with Monmon Odette.”

“Your grandmother didn’t have many friends,
so Miss Rose must be…special,” Chase said.

“At odd times she sees, I don’t know,
pictures of the past because they’re tied to something happening in
the present.” LaShaun held her breath for a few seconds. She
watched his expression. When he didn’t groan or grab his head in
despair right away she exhaled.

“She couldn’t just be a regular retired
school teacher. Nope, that wouldn’t make life quite as
interesting.” Chase rubbed his forehead for a few seconds and then
sighed. “Okay, so you talked to her and then saw that thing,
whatever it is, floating around. Now what?”

“Truthfully I don’t know. It could be nothing
supernatural at all,” LaShaun said with a shrug.

“Uh-huh. You told me that before. I ended up
fighting off a demon.”

LaShaun rubbed his shoulder. “Not everything
is hocus-pocus.”

“Let’s get back to you being outside,” Chase
said and gazed at her steadily.

“The light, night mist or whatever it was,
just kind of faded away. Now I have questions for you.” LaShaun
stepped close to him. “You seemed out of it when you were in the
yard this morning. It was like you didn’t see me at first, and you
just stared off into the woods. Did you feel, I don’t know,
strange?”

“What I felt was tired and keyed up at the
same time. I probably just paused to enjoy some clean air after
dealing with crap all day,” Chase said. He smiled at her. “Don’t’
worry.”

“Okay,” LaShaun said and smiled back. She
proceeded to worry.

Chase easily switched to everyday topics. He
ran through errands and chores he’d do before he went back to work.
LaShaun worked at paying attention, but she couldn’t stop thinking
about their early morning encounter. His odd behavior coupled with
the reappearance of the blue light meant she should get started on
that research. Now.

Chapter 3

“Well come on in.” Pete Kluger, the director
and curator of the museum, waved LaShaun into his office.

LaShaun had driven over to the Vermilion
Paroisse Musée only minutes after Chase left her house. Located in
a nineteenth century three story building donated by a local,
wealthy family, the museum housed a varied collection. Some of the
items, like voodoo dolls, were controversial. Luckily for Pete, a
transplant from the mid-west, the museum board supported him.
Monmon Odette had donated furniture and books. LaShaun carried on
the tradition as well. She’d donated three antique books and
pottery after her grandmother died.

Pete, tall and lean with thick silvery gray
hair, chattered on about museum events and other local gossip. “Oh,
and we’re going to have a fantastic Mardi Gras exhibit opening next
Saturday, the twenty-second. Did you get your invitation to the
reception?”

“Yes, but I confess I’ve been preoccupied.
It’s still sitting on my desk in the kitchen. Sorry I haven’t sent
in my RSVP.” LaShaun sat down at the round antique table in the
seating area of Pete’s office.

“No problem. You can tell me now, and I’ll
put you and Chase’s name on the guest list. The deli from Mayor
Savoie’s grocery store is catering. I may have my quarrels with the
man, but he’s got some of the best local cooks making his dishes.”
Pete bustled around making hot chocolate, his favorite. “We’re
going to have jambalaya, crawfish pasta, boudin balls, the works.
Mrs. Grenier is going to make the king cakes. Yum.”

“Sounds wonderful,” LaShaun replied and
accepted a mug with the museum logo on it from Pete. She sipped a
little of the hot chocolate. Smooth and rich, Pete prided himself
on making it from an old Creole recipe. LaShaun let the delicious
liquid slide down her throat slowly to savor it. “Perfect, as
usual.”

Pete beamed with pleasure at her
appreciation. He sat down in the chair next to her at the table.
“Thanks, dear. Much as I agree my chocolate is worth a trip over
here, I don’t think that’s why you came.”

“No, I’m doing some special research,”
LaShaun said.

“The last time you did ‘special research,’
scary things were happening. Please tell me we’re not infested with
rougarou again,” Pete replied with a grimace.

“No,” LaShaun said and drank more hot
chocolate.

“Thank the Lord for small favors,” Pete
murmured with a relieved sigh.

“At least, I don’t think so,” LaShaun
added.

Pete’s eyes widened. “Help us sweet
Lord.”

“Calm down. I’m pretty sure Chase and I
cleared out the last pack. I’m thinking this is something else. I
need anything you have on the Metier family.”

“Of course, we have quite a few books on
local families. I started a list of common surnames in the parish
fifteen years ago when I first took over. Then I cross referenced
those names to public documents from the historical records,” Pete
said. His mug of liquid chocolate forgotten, he went to the
computer on his desk.

“You’ve done an excellent job digitizing the
collection.” LaShaun took his mug and placed it on the desk at his
elbow. She knew he’d be reaching for it soon.

“Hmm,” was Pete’s distracted reply.

LaShaun sat back down and kept quiet while he
searched. As she expected, Pete picked up the mug and sipped a few
times. His gray eyebrows pulled together as he concentrated on his
task. Minutes later his expression relaxed and he grinned.

“You’re in luck. A descendent donated
furniture from the kitchen of the mansion outside Abbeville. Let’s
see, according to my files, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Volant made the
donation in 1946. Mrs. Volant was the great-great niece of one
Felicity Metier,” Pete said, and he continued to use the wireless
mouse to click on icons.