Relentless Pursuit: A Novel (Secrets of Roux River Bayou) (12 page)

Zoe walked over to the table by the window at Zoe B’s and handed Father Sam the day’s issue of the
Les Barbes Ledger
.

Hebert looked up at her, his gray curls lopsided where he’d slept on his side, his blue shirt missing a button. “Anyting in dere wert reading?”

“According to Pierce, it’s mostly old news.” Zoe combed Hebert’s hair with her fingers. “At least regarding the cyanide scare.”

“So da sheriff still not telling us anyting?”

Father Sam took a sip of coffee. “Hebert, my friend, we’ve been over this a hundred times. The sheriff’s telling us whatever we need to know, when we need to know it.”

“You don’ tink it’s strange dat da whole weekend went by and dey still don’ know who’s responsible for dis? Do we even know if a terrorist group took credit? If dey’re planning more attacks?”

“Good heavens”—Father Sam took off his glasses—“this horrible tragedy just happened on Saturday. The authorities have barely had a chance to breathe, let alone figure out the particulars of how all this went down. We need to give them space. A little trust wouldn’t hurt either.”

Hebert swatted the air. “Dat’s all I got: a
little
trust. Dey’re not going to tell us anytin’ dat could start a panic.”

“Well, do
you
want a panic?” Tex hooked his thumbs on his red suspenders. “I sure don’t. I opt for bein’ told the facts on an as-need-to-know basis. I’ve lived here twenty years, and I’ve yet to see law enforcement pull a fast one.”

“Dat’s true.”

“Shoot,” Tex said, “the authorities haven’t even called in the FBI or Homeland. If they thought it was a terrorist attack, don’t you think the feds would jump on it like fleas on a hound dog?”

Hebert scratched his chin. “I suppose dey would.”

“I’m just grateful business isn’t suffering,” Zoe said. “Pierce installed motion detectors at the kitchen doors so they buzz when someone’s coming in. He’s making sure no one enters the kitchen undetected, including the wholesale delivery guys.”

Savannah walked over to the table, her shoulders slumped.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Zoe said.

Savannah heaved a sigh. “A seventh person has died. Molly Delaney, a thirty-year-old single mother of three.”

“Oh no.” Zoe felt a pang of sadness but was grateful she didn’t recognize the woman’s name.

“Savannah, how’d it happen?” Tex asked.

“According to her parents, for her thirtieth birthday, they offered to watch the kids so she could have a weekend by herself in New Orleans. All she wanted to do was lie in the sun and read novels. The maid at the hotel where she was staying found her body this morning. Police discovered a bottle of Gaudry water on the nightstand. It’s got the same date and numbers as the bottles here. She must’ve stopped at Marcotte’s and bought it on her way down the bayou.”

Father Sam shook his head. “Poor dear probably didn’t know anything about the cyanide scare.”

Savannah nodded. “You’re right. Her parents told police she called when she arrived in New Orleans, all excited about no TV. No news. No stress. They didn’t think she was in any danger from cyanide there, so they opted not to tell her about what was going on here until she headed back to Les Barbes. It never occurred to them that she might have stopped at Marcotte’s on her way out of town.”

“Can you imagine what they must be feelin’?” Tex said.

Hebert shook his head slowly, his hand over his heart. “
J’ai gros coeur
.”

“Makes me want to cry too.” Zoe put her hand on Hebert’s shoulder. “I’m still hurting over Domi’s death. But this is what the authorities have been worried about. They just don’t know how many contaminated bottles are still in circulation.”

Chapter 13

Jude pushed aside Monday’s issue of the
Les Barbes Ledger
, his elbows on his desk, his face in his hands. He felt as if his pounding head would fall off his neck at any moment.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he sat up straight, glad it was just Aimee and not one of his deputies.

“Molly Delaney’s parents just left,” Aimee said.

“Sorry I had to bow out. I’ve got a banger of a headache. How’d it go?”

“They were emotional. Gil and I had difficulty getting them to focus. We asked all the same questions we asked the families of the other victims. We’re convinced they don’t know anyone who would target their daughter. She’s well liked. Taught second grade at Les Barbes Elementary School and has won all sorts of state teaching awards. She was even on good terms with her ex-husband. The Morgan City PD questioned him. He’s pretty shaken too. He’s squeaky clean, and they don’t think he had anything to do with it.”

“Did the security tapes at Marcotte’s record Ms. Delaney in there on Friday?”

Aimee nodded. “She went through the express checkout at three forty-two. We enhanced the image on the security tape. It appears she had three bottles of water and some snack items. New Orleans police didn’t find any other bottles of water in her room. We’re assuming she drank them. Guess her luck ran out on the third bottle.”

Jude sighed. “How old are her children?”

Aimee sat in the chair next to his desk, her arms folded across her chest, her legs crossed at the ankle. “Two, four, and five. Tell me that doesn’t break your heart.”

“Where are the kids now?”

“With their father. He has joint custody and has been taking them every other weekend for the past eight months. But I can’t imagine a single father taking full responsibility for three small children overnight.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He’s an orthodontist.”

Jude arched his eyebrows. “Knowing what I paid our orthodontist when Bridgette was in braces, I’m sure he can afford to hire a nanny.”

“Thank God. I’m sure the grandparents will help. At least the children won’t have to go through the additional trauma of being farmed out to foster homes.”

Jude thought about the people in this town whose lives had been wrecked because a loved one was poisoned with cyanide. He slammed his hands on the desk and swore under his breath. “I want whoever’s doing this, Aimee! Get out there and find me some evidence. We’re missing something. Keep digging.” He softened his tone. “And make sure the media reminds the public on the hour to call and report any unopened bottles of Gaudry water. Deputies will pick it up.”

“We’ve got another problem,” Aimee said. “Dozens of bloggers are stirring people up, claiming this was the work of Muslim extremists and is designed to slowly wipe out whole communities.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jude said. “Homeland won’t even get involved in this. They reviewed the facts and decided it’s inconsistent with the pattern of Muslim extremists. Don’t these people read the paper and listen to the news?”

“Probably. But they don’t believe we’re telling them the truth.”

“Muslim terrorists wouldn’t bother doing something this small—just seven victims when they could’ve taken out hundreds, maybe thousands?”

“So far,” Aimee said.

Jude locked gazes with her. “Do
you
have doubts?”

“It’s irrelevant. I’m paid to rely on experts to analyze this kind of thing.”

“But you think there’s a possibility that Muslim extremists did this?”

Aimee shrugged. “I guess until we know for sure who’s behind it, I’m keeping an open mind.”

“For cryin’ out loud, since Gaudry water is bottled and sold only in the state, not even the FBI wants a piece of this. If Muslim extremists were responsible, don’t you know they’d be bragging—taunting us? Everything points to this being the work of one twisted individual—or small group.”

Aimee’s eyes narrowed. “What if it’s just a warning shot, Jude? What if they plan to poison the water supply?”

“We’ve already heightened security at the water treatment plant and added more surveillance cameras. Every employee has been put under a microscope and made aware of the need for vigilance.”

“But for how long? Terrorists are patient. They wait months—even years—to pull off some of these attacks.”

“Tell me I didn’t just hear you say
these
attacks?” Jude didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “Regardless of what’s bouncing around inside your head, the experts are telling us this was not done by Muslim extremists. People are scared enough without opening that can of worms.”

“With all due respect, Sheriff, the can is open.”

Emily poured two glasses of ice-cold lemonade and carried them to Chance’s kitchen table, then sat facing him.

Chance put his hand on hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m just glad I can be here for you.” Emily glanced at the
Les Barbes Ledger
folded on the table. “I’m glad the newspaper got the times right for the visitation tomorrow night and the funeral on Wednesday.”

“I almost forgot,” Chance said. “Monsignor Robidoux called back and confirmed that the women at Saint Catherine’s are planning to bring food for the family. Imogene somebody will contact us. I wrote her name down. I don’t know any of the details, but I’m sure Aunt Reba will gladly take charge.”

“Do you know if she’s left Shreveport yet?”

“I’m sure she has. She hasn’t called. Her feelings are probably hurt.”

“She’ll come around,” Emily said. “It had to be hard for someone who likes to be in control to have a stranger call and tell her that you need space.”

“Let’s hope she listened.”

Emily took a sip of lemonade. “Chance … would it be so hard to make amends and let her help you? I’m scheduled to work the late shift today from three until eleven. And the early shift tomorrow from seven until three. I won’t be able to see you in between—and that’s a long stretch of time to be by yourself.”

Chance squeezed her hand. “You’re the only one I want to be with.”

“Sorry.” Emily’s heart sank. “I asked Zoe to give me back-to-back shifts so I could be off for the visitation tomorrow night, have all day Wednesday off, and not go in until Thursday afternoon.”

“Whatever.” His voice was flat.

“I’m doing my best to be there for you. I’m juggling other responsibilities too.”

“I said, whatever.”

“Chance, please don’t make me feel bad because I have to work. Zoe’s counting on me, especially since business has picked up.”

“I’ll manage.”

Emily pulled her hand free and took another sip of lemonade. Chance’s self-pity was probably grief talking. The guy had just been orphaned, and he had no siblings. She couldn’t even imagine what he must be feeling.

“I’m doing the best I can to help you,” she said. “I feel bad I won’t see you for twenty-four hours—but then I’ll be off for forty-eight.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do worry about it. I care about you, Chance—a lot. Seeing you hurting isn’t easy for me either.” Emily blinked the stinging from her eyes.

He looked out the window, his expression stony. “I’m just trying to make it through the day without losing it.”

“Maybe you
need
to lose it.” Emily put her hand on his forearm. “All that grief needs an outlet, or it’ll make you sick. Maybe in your time alone, you’ll be able to deal with the severity of what’s happened. That’s pretty much what I told your aunt Reba.”

Chance sighed and stared at his hands.

“It might help to remember that she’s hurting too.” Emily drew a cross in the condensation on her glass. “She just lost her sister tragically. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I lost Vanessa.”

“Try losing your
mother
! Aunt Reba will go back to Shreveport and pick up her life where she left off and not miss a beat. My life will never be the same!”

“Sorry, Chance. I didn’t mean to diminish your grief. None of us can know what you’re feeling.”

Emily sat quietly for a few moments, her gaze fixed on the refrigerator picture of Chance with his parents in front of the Eiffel Tower. The three looked really happy. Was Chance’s relationship with his father really so lacking that he felt nothing about his dying—or was it just overshadowed by the deep sadness he felt at losing his mother? Either way, Chance was in for a long, uphill battle of grieving the family unit that no longer existed. And preparing to go back to Harvard Medical School at the end of August, ready to focus on learning.

Sax walked into Zoe B’s, the tinkling of the bell on the door causing Zoe to turn in his direction. She picked up a menu and hurried over to him.

“Sax, what a nice surprise to see you again. I wasn’t sure whether you were still in town.”

“I’m here,” he said. “I’ve got some business pending. I normally don’t take time for lunch, but I don’t really need to be anywhere at the moment. I enjoyed the crawfish étouffée so much I thought I’d try something else. Zoe B’s seems to be the place everyone trusts to be safe right now.”

“My husband’s watching the kitchen like a mother hen. He even put motion detectors at the kitchen doors so no one can come or go without it beeping. We’re getting all our food from a New Orleans wholesaler. And, for the time being, we’ve stopped getting our fresh produce from the farmer’s market.”

Sax glanced around the room. “Well, you sure have a lot of customers. I guess everyone trusts you.”

“We’re not the only ones who are taking serious measures to ensure the safety of what we serve,” Zoe said. “But it didn’t hurt that the sheriff and his wife ate here the other night and mentioned it on the news.”

Zoe led him to the table where he had sat the night before. The same three men were seated at the table by the window and appeared to be playing checkers.

Sax pulled out a chair and sat.

“Mommy!”

Zoe turned just as a little boy and girl broke free from the hands of an attractive young woman wearing a backpack and raced in her direction. Zoe bent down, her arms open, and received them, kissing their cheeks.

“Maddie’s taking us to the park,” said the little girl with curly blonde pigtails and the face of an angel. “We popped popcorn, and we’re allowed to feed the ducks.”

“Are those beautiful children yours?” Sax said.

“Yes, this is Grace.” Zoe beamed. “She’s four going on twenty-one. And Tucker—he just turned one. This is Mr. Henry.”

Grace extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Henry.”

He smiled and shook Grace’s hand. She had Zoe’s features, but her eyes were the color of topaz. “Well, aren’t you the polite one?”

“Grace has been around customers since the day she was born,” Zoe said. “She’s a real people person. We’re not sure about Tucker yet. He’s at the age of taking it all in.”

“Hey there, Tucker, my man.” Sax tickled the boy’s ribs, and Tucker giggled with delight, his shiny chestnut hair the exact color of Zoe’s. “They look a lot like you. Really cute kids.”

“Thanks. They’re a blessing.” She motioned for the woman wearing the backpack to come. “Sax Henry, this is Maddie Lyons. She watches after the children when I’m working. She’s a godsend.”

Sax smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.” Maddie turned to Zoe. “I’m going to put them in the red wagon and head for Cypress Park. We shouldn’t be gone more than an hour and a half. I need to get Tucker down for his afternoon nap.”

“Have fun.” Zoe hugged Tucker and then Grace. “Do what Maddie tells you.”

“I’ll help Maddie make Tucker be good,” Grace said. “Bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, sweetie.” Zoe looked adoringly at her children as Maddie carried Tucker and walked Grace out of the dining room.

Sax was surprised to see Zoe’s eyes brimming with tears.

“Sorry.” She took a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “I was just thinking about how blessed I am. Dominic Corbin, the little boy who died of cyanide poisoning, was Grace’s favorite playmate at preschool. His visitation is tomorrow night, and I’m dreading it.”

“I didn’t know that. Must be hard on her.”

“She’s happy Domi’s with Jesus. I don’t think she really understands that he’s not coming back. I suppose it’ll have to sink in slowly. This is the first time she’s had to deal with death.”

“Are you not worried about your kids being out there with the killer still on the loose?”

“If I thought about it, I’d go out of my mind,” Zoe said. “Maddie won’t let them eat or drink anything she’s not brought with her in the backpack. They’ll be fine. We can’t just hole up and cower in fear.”

“I suppose not.”

“Do you have children, Sax?”

“No. My third wife and I spent five years and thousands of dollars trying to make it happen. The fertility gods didn’t smile on us. Probably just as well. My old man was a mean drunk, and I’m not sure I even know how to be a good dad. I never did the father-son stuff.”