Relentless Pursuit: A Novel (Secrets of Roux River Bayou) (3 page)

Chapter 2

Emily Jessup sat at a corner table at Zoe B’s Cajun Eatery, enjoying a refreshing orchard smoothie and admiring the array of oil paintings for sale by local artists. At a nearby table, a young couple and their four kids, each dressed in a green souvenir T-shirt from GatorWorld, sat drinking limeades. What a contrast they were against the open grand step-back cupboard where Zoe’s prize collection of D’Arceau Limoges collector plates was displayed.

Emily turned her gaze to her handsome friend Chance Durand as he took another sip of chicory.

“I’ve never developed a taste for that,” Emily said. “My college friends all like it. But no matter how I psyche myself up, it still tastes like warm mud to me.”

“I can’t ever remember not liking it. Even as a kid I chose chicory over sweet tea or soft drinks. My dad said it was a fitting drink for someone who’s dumber than dirt.” Chance smiled wryly, his dark eyes peering over the top of his square glasses.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re the only one
I
know going to Harvard Med on a full scholarship.”

“Yes, but when I was in grade school, Dad thought I was stupid—before I had my eyes examined and the ophthalmologist told him how poor my vision was.” Chance raised an eyebrow, which disappeared under the sleek brown hair combed across his forehead. “After my folks got me glasses, my grades went from Ds and Fs to straight As. And my teacher told them I had the highest IQ in the class.”

“I hope your dad apologized for saying something so awful.”

“That’s not his style. He can be a real jerk. But you should’ve seen the look on his face the first time I brought home all As. I honestly think he was mad at me for
not
being stupid.” Chance smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on that. What I started to say is that Dad couldn’t stand chicory either, but Mom loved it and let me have it as a kid. Can’t hurt you. There’s no caffeine.”

“I love caffeine,” Emily said. “I would never have made it through my first year at LSU without it.”

Chance pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. “I’ve found a more effective way to stay alert and study longer—”

“Not me. I’ve been offered every kind of upper imaginable. But I made up my mind from the day I started college that I wasn’t going to depend on anything other than hard work and determination—and maybe a lot of caffeine. Not because my mom’s a cop, either. I just don’t want to start down that path. I’ve got a long way to go before I get into medical school, and I sure don’t want to break the law to get there. I don’t want any skeletons in my closet.”

Chance held up his palm, a broad smile exposing a row of perfect teeth. “Whoa, girl. Neither do I. The way I’m able to stay alert and study longer is by
running
five miles a day. I focus better. I sleep better. And I have more energy.”

“Oh.” Emily stirred the luscious blend of fresh fruit, cherry juice, and vanilla yogurt, hoping her face wasn’t as pink as her smoothie. “No wonder you’re so fit. I used to jog with my mom almost every morning, but I got out of the habit when I started college.”

“It’s never too late to start up again. Maybe we can run together sometime.”

“I’d like that.” Emily mused, “Do you realize it was three weeks ago today that we met? My first outing after I arrived in Les Barbes was to check out the library. I certainly never expected to make a friend.”

Chance took his index finger and traced the rim of his cup. “I’m glad our paths crossed. It’s great hanging out with a woman who understands what it takes to pursue a career in medicine. I look forward to spending more time together.”

“Me, too.”

“So are you enjoying your stay at Langley Manor?”

“Absolutely,” Emily said. “I always do. My sister and brother-in-law have turned it into the most popular bed-and-breakfast in the area.”

“Are you staying in one of the guest rooms?”

“Actually, I’m not. Those rooms are booked all the time. I’m staying downstairs in the living quarters with Vanessa and Ethan. They have an extra bedroom. There’s plenty of room to hang out with them—and with my nephew, Carter. He’s turning nine next month. You’ll have to come out and let me show you around. The grounds are amazing. The caretaker is a descendant of a slave who helped the founding Langleys move runaway slaves up north on the Underground Railroad.
Southern Living
did a whole spread on it last summer.”

Chance nodded. “I heard that.”

“I enjoy staying out there, but I love coming into town. I’m a city girl. I like people watching, especially in places like Les Barbes that draw tourists from all cultures.”

Emily glanced out the window at the row of quaint, old-world buildings along
rue Madeline
, each with a gallery or balcony decorated with flowerpots and greenery and extending out over the sidewalk.

“The first time I visited Les Barbes,” she said, “Vanessa and Ethan were up to their ears in the renovation of Langley Manor and living in the apartment upstairs.” She nodded toward the ceiling. “I used to stand out on the gallery in the evenings and wave to the tourists. This place rocks after dark. It’s like a carnival.”

Chance smiled. “I guess it does. I don’t give it much thought, since I grew up here. But I always thought the Broussards lived upstairs.”

“They do, but there used to be two apartments. After Vanessa and Ethan moved out, the Broussards knocked out the walls and made it into one large apartment. Vanessa is still best friends with Zoe. That’s how I got a part-time job waiting tables here.”

“So are you staying all summer?”

Emily dipped her spoon into the orchard smoothie and took out a chunk of fresh peach. “Until the eighteenth of August, and then I’ll drive down to New Orleans. I signed a lease for an off-campus apartment near LSU. My roommate, Clarissa, will arrive the same day. It’s furnished, so getting settled before classes start on the twenty-third should be easy. What about you?”

Chance wiped his mouth with a napkin. “My classes start on the twenty-fifth, and my flight leaves for Boston on the seventeenth. My scholarship includes a private room at Vanderbilt Hall. It’s furnished. All I really have to do is unpack. I have several friends from last year who will be staying there too. So do you know Clarissa, or is she just someone you hooked up with to pay half the rent?”

“We were in the same biology class last year. She’s hoping to get into medical school. She wants to be an ob-gyn too.”

Chance flashed a wry smile. “Think I’ll stick with being a neurosurgeon. At least my patients will show up by appointment—and not at all hours of the night.”

“I’ve wanted to deliver babies since I was a kid. Vanessa let me come into the delivery room when Carter was born. I was only ten, but it was awesome. I think the nurses thought it would be too much for me, but I went to the classes with Vanessa and was well prepared. Actually, I cried. I could hardly believe that living, breathing little baby came out of my sister—and I was holding him just minutes after he was born. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re intriguing. Intelligent. And you’re really pretty. But I guess you hear that a lot.”

Emily did hear that a lot. But it was usually a line. Why was she so inexplicably drawn to this guy? “Thank my parents. I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

He laughed. “I suppose not. But you got the pretty genes.”

Emily heard a commotion and saw a man in a chef’s hat, his back to her, talking to some customers in close proximity. She realized it was Pierce Broussard. His voice was lowered, and she strained to listen.

“The food here is perfectly safe,” Pierce said. “The incident at Marcotte’s was isolated. There’s no reason for concern. I make everything from scratch, and we get our ingredients from a New Orleans wholesaler. And our produce from the farmer’s market.”

“I wonder what’s going on,” Chance said. “Judging from the intense looks on the customers’ faces, it can’t be good.”

Zoe Broussard seemed to come out of nowhere and stood next to Emily. “Have you two heard about what happened at Marcotte’s Market?”

Emily shook her head. “No, but I overheard Pierce talking to those customers. What’s going on? Why is he talking about food safety?”

Zoe’s face was flushed and splotchy, her blue-gray eyes wide and red-rimmed. “People are pouring into the ER at Hargrave after eating at the food bar at Marcotte’s. One little boy died. The doctors said the symptoms are consistent with cyanide poisoning.”

“
Cyanide
?”

Zoe put her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “The little boy that died was Dominic Corbin. He was Grace’s best friend at preschool. I still can’t believe it. Authorities are trying not to alarm us, but they still don’t know the extent of the contamination.”

Emily sat stunned, staring at Chance.

“Did they give the names of the people who were admitted to the hospital?” Chance asked.

Zoe dabbed her eyes. “Not yet.”

“How could a food bar get contaminated with cyanide?” Chance said. “I promise you I wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of whoever’s responsible.”

Pierce came over to the table, deep lines scrunching his forehead. He whispered something to Zoe and then left without greeting them.

All the color drained from her face. “Three more people have died. I hope it’s no one we know. I just had to tell our four-year-old daughter that her best friend isn’t coming back.”

Emily blew the hair off her forehead and tried to take it all in. She wondered if Vanessa had heard the news.

Chance’s cell phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “The sheriff’s department? How weird. I need to take this.”

Emily listened as he put the phone to his ear.

“Hello … yes, this is Chance Durand … I just heard about it …
What
? Are you sure …? How serious is it …?” Chance glanced over at Emily. “Can’t you just tell me if they’re going to be all right …? Don’t tell me to calm down. We’re talking about my parents …! No, I’m with a friend … I … I can be there in fifteen minutes.” Chance put his cell phone in his shirt pocket and grabbed his keys. “I’ve got to go.”

“What happened?” Emily said.

Chance didn’t answer her and seemed disoriented.

Emily grabbed his wrist. “Talk to me. What happened?”

“Uh”—Chance blinked and then lifted his gaze—“A 911 call came in from my parents’ address. The person who placed the call was gasping, so the 911 operator dispatched an ambulance. The EMTs found my parents unconscious on the kitchen floor.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emily hated that the words sounded rote. “Do they know what happened?”

“They think it’s cyanide poisoning. But the deputy wouldn’t tell me their condition.” Emotion welled up in Chance’s eyes. “I need to get over to the emergency room at Hargrave. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

Emily jumped to her feet. “
I’m
driving.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re in shock.” Emily went around the table and took his arm. “Come on. You don’t need to be thinking about the road at a time like this.”

“Emily’s right,” Zoe said. “There’s no way you’re thinking clearly. Let her help. I don’t know what to say, except I’m so very sorry.”

Emily saw the terrified look in Zoe’s eyes and wondered if it mirrored her own. When she got up that morning, could she ever have imagined that people would be collapsing right and left from cyanide poisoning? Or, worse yet, that one of them would be Grace’s playmate and two of them Chance’s parents?

Emily shut the door of the private room just off the ER at Hargrave Medical Center, listening to the cadence of Father Gauvin’s heels clicking on the tile floor as he walked away. Could this really be happening?

She whispered a quick prayer, then went over and sat next to Chance on the sofa, unable to form any words and wondering if it mattered. Were there any words appropriate for this moment?

“I … I can’t believe they’re both gone.” Chance’s voice was little more than an exhale.

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling,” Emily managed to say. “Is there someone you want me to call?”

“Not yet. I need to pull myself together.”

“Are your grandparents still alive?”

“No, but both my parents had siblings. I’ll have to go home and look for the phone numbers.” Chance sighed. “How could they have died of cyanide poisoning? They were nowhere near Marcotte’s Market today.”

Emily shuddered. “It’s frightening that the authorities aren’t sure where the cyanide is coming from. But maybe it was in the bottled water, since the EMTs found two open bottles of it on the table. The deputy said they took it into evidence and are having it tested. There was probably bottled water at the food bar, too.”

Chance buried his face in his hands. “Mom and Dad were supposed to go on their first cruise in two weeks. To Alaska. Mom had been trying for years to get Dad interested. Finally he said yes. And now …” Chance let out a sob, then seemed to swallow it.

Emily blinked the stinging from her eyes and gently rubbed Chance’s back. She didn’t say anything—not that she was even able.